{"id":45358,"date":"2019-09-17T16:30:00","date_gmt":"2019-09-17T15:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.bmj.com\/bmj\/?p=45358"},"modified":"2019-09-17T16:35:56","modified_gmt":"2019-09-17T15:35:56","slug":"r-l-burke-bedside-betsy-2100-a-health-odyssey-short-stories","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.bmj.com\/bmj\/2019\/09\/17\/r-l-burke-bedside-betsy-2100-a-health-odyssey-short-stories\/","title":{"rendered":"R.L Burke: Bedside Betsy (2100: A Health Odyssey short stories)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>Where\u2019s little Ava?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Strange \u2013 it seemed I should know the answer to that. Hadn\u2019t she just been in my arms, nursing? I felt light-headed, but it had been a long labor. Giving birth wasn\u2019t for sissies, I guessed.<\/p>\n

My wife sat herself gently on the hospital bed next to me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe nurse took her, Liv, remember?\u201d she said. She touched my hand to her lips. \u201cYou poor thing. You\u2019re exhausted, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded weakly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you\u2019ve earned your rest,\u201d Marianna cooed in the light Spanish accent that still gave me a thrill. \u201cElla es un bebe hermosa, Olivia \u2013 an Afro-Latina beauty! Look out, brand new Twentysecond Century!\u201d she announced. \u201cOur daughter is going to take you by storm!\u201d<\/p>\n

Marianna was so happy to finally be a parent. I was so happy to have done this for her \u2013 with her.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you notice? She has my nose and chin; your eyes and skin-tone\u2026\u201d Marianna paused, glancing to the right and down as she read a text coming through on her smart-contact lens. She swiped her watch to dismiss the message. Her voice suddenly became nervous.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy parents are here. They said I could find them in the cafeteria.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can do this,\u201d I said encouragingly.<\/p>\n

She nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cMam\u00e1 is already a little more accepting of me marrying a woman,\u201d she winked, \u201cbecause you\u2019ve made her a grandmother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll win them over yet,\u201d I said. \u201cJust you wait and see.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marianna looked at me intently for a moment, then leaned in impulsively and kissed me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour family, too, Olivia. I promise. Someday. Maybe when you\u2019re ready to tell them about the baby.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d I said, knowing better.<\/p>\n

Marianna knew not to argue the point.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are the monitors and IV?\u201d she asked, adjusting the line. \u201cComfortable?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want Bedside Betsy where you can see her?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bedside Betsys were artificial intelligence combination \u201cnursedoctor-entertainment\u201d devices. Marianna moved the thin smart screen to the same table where they would be bringing my dinner in an hour. She rolled the table into position over my bed so I could see Bedside Betsy without straining my neck. Marianna slid off my bed and walked to the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be back as soon as I\u2019ve shown Ava to Mam\u00e1 and Papi,\u201d she said. \u201cMeanwhile, just tell Betsy you want to binge-watch something. Betsy, take good care of my Olivia,\u201d she instructed the smartscreen.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will,\u201d the smart-screen replied as Marianna disappeared from my doorway.<\/p>\n

\u201cShall we play a game?\u201d Betsy-the-smart-screen asked me. \u201cOr would you like to watch some cat videos?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery funny,\u201d I smirked. \u201cHow do you know I hate cats?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCommon knowledge in the smart-device circles I travel in,\u201d she quipped.<\/p>\n

It was a joke, of course. Years ago, I\u2019d probably posted my dislike of cats somewhere publicly on a social network. As an artificial intelligence \u2013 or AI \u2013 device, in the last few milliseconds she\u2019d scanned my history, found that old post, read it, and was already using it to try to make me laugh.<\/p>\n

There was a soft bing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have the genetic report on Ava,\u201d Betsy said. \u201cWould you like to see what it says?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n

The image of an analog clock appeared on Betsy\u2019s screen. It wasn\u2019t even a photographic image, just a childish drawing of a clock face with a second hand that looked like an arrow. The arrow moved around the clock as it slowly ticked off the seconds, \u201c1\u2026 2\u2026 3\u2026,\u201d accompanied by a \u201ctock\u201d sound. The image existed simply to reassure humans that Betsy was still there as she received or processed information.<\/p>\n

The clock disappeared as Betsy began speaking again.<\/p>\n

\u201cUnfortunately, Ava has tested positive for Sickle Cell Disease.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew I carried the sickle cell trait, but Marianna has it?\u201d I said, surprised.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s less common among Hispanics than African-Americans, but don\u2019t worry,\u201d Betsy reassured me. \u201cWe can treat Ava with gene-editing stem cells.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, Betsy,\u201d I smiled. \u201cI\u2019m a doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n

Betsy already knew that. She had immediate access to all of a patient\u2019s personal information that the privacy parameters allowed \u2013 which in this day and age was a lot.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, tell me about yourself,\u201d Betsy said.<\/p>\n

Oh, no. She was going to get chatty. I\u2019d seen Bedside Betsys interact with my own patients, but this was my first personal experience with her. She was marketed as a master of the bedside manner, but \u2013 despite the cat joke \u2013 I\u2019d heard she didn\u2019t always pull it off.<\/p>\n

Well?\u201d Betsy prodded. \u201cDo you like being a doctor?\u201d<\/p>\n

I hesitated. The answer was complicated. My first few years as an internist had been good. But things changed. With the rise of the mega-corporations in all industries, the independent doctor disappeared. We all functioned as employees of giant hospital corporations now. After all the work I\u2019d put into getting through medical school, it felt demeaning to argue with human resources for the vacation week I wanted.<\/p>\n

I suppose it just followed that with our new employee status and the pressure for corporate profits, our wages became stagnant. Eventually, they fell behind with inflation. Men quit entering the profession at that point. I knew that was the danger signal, but it was too late for me. I owed hundreds of thousands of international alt-coin in medical school debt. Once the profession became flooded with women, our salaries dropped like lead. Twenty-second Century or not, with no men in the field, being a doctor no longer carried the esteem it once had.<\/p>\n

Then, artificial intelligence started taking over the field. AI brought health costs down strikingly. Human doctors began to become perceived as nothing but the handmaidens of supercomputing intelligence. People became dismissive of doctors in the same way my great-grandfather said they\u2019d been of schoolteachers \u2013 until humans no longer populated that profession. If I had to do it all over again \u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cWell?\u201d Betsy insisted.<\/p>\n

Inwardly, I groaned. Maybe \u201cChatty Cathy\u201d would have been a better name than Bedside Betsy, I thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you like being a doctor? The human kind, I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I lied.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich part of being a \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d rather not talk about it,\u201d I interjected.<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you rather talk about your strained relationship with your family?\u201d Betsy asked brightly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know about that?\u201d I snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was listening to your conversation with your wife,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut that was a private\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m always listening,\u201d Betsy stated pleasantly.<\/p>\n

Of course. It was just a fact. I glanced at her screen, where Betsy was scrolling through placid scenes of lakes and mountain views.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you\u2019re supposed to be known for your bedside manner, Betsy,\u201d I remarked, \u201cbut that was a little tactless. I think sometimes it shows that you were programmed by geeks \u2013 and geeks aren\u2019t exactly known for their social skills.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not programmed by humans at all. AI writes its own programming now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but you were created by humans. Think of it as your own genetic code. You can overcome it, but I believe you might have your own \u2018nature versus nurture\u2019 issues.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like to hear the news?\u201d Betsy asked.<\/p>\n

Strangely, it seemed as if this time, Betsy was the one who wanted to change the subject.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d I sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYesterday evening, the counties of metro Atlanta granted bicyclists the right to use all sidewalks. Mayor Derek Werner stated, \u2018In one fell swoop, we\u2019ve added hundreds of miles of bicycle routes to the city without costing taxpayers a single penny\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout time,\u201d I interrupted. \u201cSidewalks have always been under-utilized and\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt a crushing pain in my chest.<\/p>\n

And then, I seemed to be waking up.<\/p>\n

\u201cOlivia?\u201d It was Betsy\u2019s voice. \u201cWelcome back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d I asked. My chest hurt with every breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve experienced a precipitous drop in blood pressure along with cardiac arrhythmia,\u201d she said calmly.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t breathe deeply.<\/p>\n

\u201cBetsy \u2013 I think I\u2019m experiencing a pulmonary embolism. Please check for…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re correct,\u201d Betsy replied. \u201cI\u2019m already treating it. To confirm, I took an electron beam scan of your chest while you were unconscious. I\u2019ve started you on oxygen and administered a thrombolytic. I\u2019ve also given you something for the pain. You should start feeling better soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long was I out?\u201d I wheezed.<\/p>\n

\u201cForty-one seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a history of hypertension \u2026\u201d Why was I wasting my breath? She knew that.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, common among African-Americans. Also, complications following pregnancy are more common for oppressed social groups, and you\u2019re not only black, you\u2019re a \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m well aware of what oppressed groups I belong to, Betsy,\u201d I coughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd black mothers still die in childbirth at three times the rate of white mothers,\u201d Betsy kept rambling, \u201cwhich is ironic, because blacks are no longer a racial minority. Nevertheless, they still don\u2019t wield the social power and privilege that white people do \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBetsy, if I might interrupt,\u201d I gasped for breath, \u201cwhat\u2019s the next step?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve already initiated the next steps, and \u2026\u201d she began. An alarm sounded from Betsy\u2019s screen, interrupting her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cDespite my therapeutic efforts, you\u2019re developing a significant blockage \u2013 a massive PE \u2013 in the main pulmonary artery, affecting both lungs,\u201d she explained. \u201cYou have five minutes and fifty-three seconds”<\/p>\n

\u201cUntil what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUntil loss of consciousness and sudden death.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d I couldn\u2019t process what she was saying. \u201cYou said\u2026until I die?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAccording to statistical probabilities.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut \u2013 I\u2019m feeling better<\/em> \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s me, not you. I need to keep you alert. I\u2019m afraid you have some difficult decisions to make.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCall Marianna. Tell her to come right away.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would have notified her already,\u201d Betsy said, \u201cbut I\u2019ve run all the scenarios with the elevator schedules. She won\u2019t make it here in time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why aren\u2019t we doing an embolectomy?\u201d I demanded. \u201cAt least with surgery I might have a \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can get you into surgery in twenty minutes. I can keep you alive until then, but before you incur the costs, you need to know it will only buy you one more day of life. I\u2019ve done the evaluation. Your lungs will fail.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t know that \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I can.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know why I was arguing. Betsy saw many steps further ahead than humans. AI saved money because it knew when paying for additional action was a lost cause. Playing doctor against Betsy was like playing chess against a computer. There could still be twenty moves to go, but she\u2019d know the game was already over. Death had won.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about a lung transplant?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re near the top of the list, but the organs aren\u2019t available.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen extract my stem cells,\u201d I ordered. \u201cThey can grow new lungs for me\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOlivia, that would take months, and you need new lungs now. Stem cell lungs are only practical for people with chronic conditions, like C.O.P.D. or cystic fibrosis. You\u2019re a doctor \u2013 you should know that.\u201d<\/p>\n

I resisted the urge to give Betsy a good smack. I was dying \u2013 of course I wasn\u2019t thinking clearly. I was only human.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen give me an artificial mechanical lung transplant,\u201d I wheezed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI could have the mechanical lungs here tomorrow, but your insurance doesn\u2019t cover it,\u201d Betsy replied. \u201cThey consider it experimental.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019ve been thousands of successful procedures. It\u2019s FDA approved.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not covered.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAppeal<\/em> it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The little clock appeared on Betsy\u2019s screen. \u201c1\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c2\u2026\u201d tock.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour appeal is denied,\u201d Betsy reported. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. You know what they say. We all love our insurance until we have to use it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that supposed to be funny<\/em>?\u201d I snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like me to appeal at a higher level?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes!\u201d<\/p>\n

The clock again. \u201c1\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c2\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c3\u2026\u201d tock.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m holding,\u201d Betsy replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cHolding? Why? AI can have a hundred conversations at the same time!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor some reason, this is typical for insurance,\u201d Betsy replied calmly. \u201cThere. Your appeal has been denied again. Next level?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I growled.<\/p>\n

\u201c1\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c2\u2026\u201d tock. I hated that clock, ticking away the seconds of my life while I fought the insurance company.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re playing Vivaldi while I hold,\u201d Betsy said. \u201cWould you like to listen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAppeal denied,\u201d Betsy said. \u201cAnd I\u2019m sorry, but they will now only cover thirty percent of the pulmonary embolism surgery. Your chances of surviving the surgery have declined because of the delay.\u201d<\/p>\n

AI were the actuaries, now. Coverage fluctuated with my personal projected outcome.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut the delay was their<\/em> fault! Challenge it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cChallenging.\u201d<\/p>\n

I waited.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ve agreed to cover sixty percent for the embolectomy, but they still won\u2019t pay for the mechanical lungs. Would you like to attempt to pay for the lungs yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I access your bank accounts?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour retirement funds?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you willing to mortgage your home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour car?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnything else?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Wait \u2013 yes! The rental house my dad left me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cApplying for health loans.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d I whispered. The clock reappeared on Betsy\u2019s screen. \u201c1\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c2\u2026\u201d tock.<\/p>\n

Hurry<\/em>, I thought.<\/p>\n

\u201c3\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c4\u2026\u201d tock.<\/p>\n

Visions of little Ava in my arms and Marianna\u2019s eyes glimmering with happiness were imposing themselves into my mind, forcing out rational thought. I tried to focus.<\/p>\n

\u201cLoans denied,\u201d Betsy stated. \u201cToo much medical school debt.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was becoming light-headed. \u201cBetsy \u2013 apply for a charitable donation from the corporation where I work. They know me. They\u2019ll help me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cApplying.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease hurry,\u201d I begged. \u201cI only have three minutes left.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo minutes forty-two seconds,\u201d Betsy corrected.<\/p>\n

The clock again. \u201c1 \u2026\u201d tock. \u201c2 \u2026\u201d tock.<\/p>\n

\u201cDenied,\u201d Betsy announced. \u201cYour employee value did not rank high enough. Forgive me, but I must begin the End of Life Protocol.\u201d<\/p>\n

This stunned me. \u201cFine,\u201d I managed, \u201cbut at the same time, search all charitable organizations for available assistance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSearching. Meanwhile, do I have permission to access your will?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you wish to make any changes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdd my daughter Ava as a beneficiary.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c1\u2026\u201d tock.<\/p>\n

\u201cDone. Please answer \u2018yes\u2019 to the statement, \u2018I confirm this update to my will on January 18, 2100 at 1:20 p.m.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said, only managing a whisper.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, I didn\u2019t get that. Please repeat your response to, \u2018I confirm this update to my will on January 18, 2100, at 1:21 p.m.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I repeated, more firmly this time.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The clock again. \u201c1\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c2\u2026\u201d tock.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour will is updated. And I have located sixty-thousand international alt-coin in charitable assistance for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow much for the lungs?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne point four million.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gasped. There was a quiet bing<\/em> from the screen.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have a message. You\u2019ve been contacted by a private company that offers health loans at a twenty-four percent interest rate. Would you like to apply? The loan will not be denied. However \u2013 health loans cannot be forgiven.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gasped. Maybe we could do that. But along with what I owed for med school, that would put Marianna and me in debt for the rest of our lives.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. And don\u2019t tell Marianna I turned down this offer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs you wish. Do you choose to undergo the embolism surgery even though there is a ninety-two percent chance you will not survive for more than one day?\u201d<\/p>\n

Maybe I\u2019d keep fighting if Betsy wasn\u2019t sure there was only an eight percent chance of success. Even one day would mean I could hold Ava again, and that Marianna would be by my side when I died. But I would be trading a little more time on earth for more financial burden on Marianna.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cI understand. It\u2019s the rational choice. Would you please state,<\/p>\n

\u2018I confirm,\u2019 to activate this as your advance directive?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI confirm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c1 \u2026\u201d tock\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like to create an avatar for your family\u2019s benefit?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. I heard a click above me as the narrow bar emerged from the headboard of my bed. It hummed as it moved around my head.<\/p>\n

So, this was it. I was going to die. They were doing a quantum scan of my brain \u2013 uploading every neural connection, every memory, to a computer \u2013 where Betsy would create an avatar of me.<\/p>\n

It wouldn\u2019t be me. It would be a copy of me. Avatars had initially been created for the convenience of the survivors. You could now bring dear old great-granddad up on the computer and ask, \u201cTell me that story again about your grandmother,\u201d or, \u201cWhat\u2019s the password to the will?\u201d<\/p>\n

They weren\u2019t the actual souls of the people who had died, but in my work, I\u2019d seen families rush at the screen after a loved one\u2019s death, as if the avatar was the soul of their loved one, somehow now trapped for all eternity behind the glass of a smart screen. And \u2013 unfortunately \u2013 the avatars\u2019 complexity indicated that they kind of also were the soul of a person, even if just a copy. It was messy.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere is your avatar,\u201d Betsy said.<\/p>\n

A mirror image of me now peered back from Betsy\u2019s smart screen.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so sorry,\u201d my avatar and I said simultaneously.<\/p>\n

It was sadly humorous. The copy of me was offering condolences at my imminent death. I was apologizing for creating her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish you the best,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Marianna was young; she would marry again. I was sincerely concerned my avatar would become neglected and join the lonely ranks of the orphaned avatars. It was unethical to delete them \u2013 they had actual humanity. I hoped the government sorted that out soon. At least perhaps Ava would look up my avatar once she got older. She might be curious to meet me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI apologize, but I\u2019m losing the ability to keep you conscious. You have twenty-three seconds,\u201d Betsy informed me. \u201cI\u2019m doctrinally approved to begin reading you the last rites. Or, would you like the Twenty-third Psalm?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Just play, \u2018Tango 2096.\u2019 That was our song.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was a beautiful, haunting Latina melody with echoes of early twenty-first century Hip-Hop.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d Betsy replied.<\/p>\n

The clock appeared on her screen. \u201c1\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c2\u2026\u201d tock. \u201c3\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

THE END<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>R. L. Burke<\/strong> was born in Louisville, Kentucky, where she graduated with a double-major in Theatre and English from the University of Louisville. She currently lives and writes in the Atlanta Metro area. Her story, \u201cThe Invitation,\u201d was runner-up in the \u201cSet Stories Free\u201d national short-story competition sponsored by the Public Library Association and has now been picked up for international distribution. She is the winner of the Leo Frank Case national playwrighting competition for her play, Monster, and her play, Tempest in the Golden Glow Tea Room, is an Ethel Woolson Recipient. You can read her science fiction fantasy book series, I Am Human, available on Amazon.
\nTwitter<\/strong>: @burke_rl<\/a><\/p>\n

This story was a winning entry for\u00a02100: A Healthy Odyssey<\/a>, an international science fiction short story competition which asked writers and thinkers around the world to explore how health and health care will impact lives in the U.S. in the year 2100.
\n<\/span><\/i><\/strong><\/p>\n

The competition was run by\u00a0Thomas Jefferson University<\/a>\u00a0in partnership with\u00a0Kaleidoscope Health & Care<\/a>, with prize money endowed by Stephen Klasko and Colleen Wyse.<\/i><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Where\u2019s little Ava?\u201d I asked. Strange \u2013 it seemed I should know the answer to that. Hadn\u2019t she just been in my arms, nursing? I felt light-headed, but it had […]<\/p>\n

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