The Divine Intervention
1138 Words
As James stepped off the podium and headed toward the lobby, chaos erupted near the ER entrance.
"Clear the way! Patient has Refractory Status Epilepticus complicated by Neurogenic Pulmonary Edema!" a senior nurse screamed, her face ghostly pale.
A gurney flew past at top speed. On it lay a seven-year-old boy, his body racking with violent seizures. Foam bubbled from his mouth, and his skin was turning a sickening shade of blue from extreme oxygen deprivation.
The world-class specialists exiting the symposium swarmed the gurney. A top German neurosurgeon checked the boy's pupils and shook his head. "It’s end-stage. The intracranial pressure is off the charts. If we intubate now, the sheer pressure will cause a cerebral hemorrhage on the table. This is a lost cause."
Max saw his opening. He shoved through the crowd, pointing a trembling finger at James.
"Hey, James! You just gave a big speech about 'medical justice' and 'new standards,' didn't you? Why are you standing there like a statue? Weren't you the star resident with the perfect scores?" Max laughed, his eyes glinting with malice. "Go on, then! Show these investors and experts what you’ve got! Save him! Don't just buy stocks—prove your hands don't shake when you hold a scalpel!"
Dr. Arnold tried to grab his son’s arm. "Max, stop! This is impossible! Don't make it worse!"
"Why, Dad? Let him try!" Max shouted. "When he fails and this kid dies on his watch, the world will know he’s nothing but a fraud with a checkbook! Come on, James! Don't be a coward!"
Sofia held her breath. She knew that status epilepticus combined with pulmonary edema was a death sentence. Not a single doctor in that room was brave enough to touch a patient who was already halfway in the grave.
James stepped forward slowly.
[Divine System: Diagnosis Detected...]
[Condition: 85% neuronal damage, microscopic brainstem hemorrhage, pulmonary failure.]
[Status: Clinical death in 120 seconds.]
[Option: Activate 'Divine Touch - Level 1'.]
"Julian," James whispered.
"I’m here, my Lord," Julian replied, instantly stepping into a defensive stance to ensure no one interfered.
"Get me a basic surgical kit and an ampule of saline," James commanded.
The senior doctors gasped. "Mr. O’Connell, you can't be serious. This patient needs a state-of-the-art OR, and even then, his chances are less than one percent!" Dr. Vance cried out.
James ignored them. He approached the gurney, his hands moving with impossible speed.
"What are you doing? Saying a prayer?" Max jeered. "Are you a doctor or a witch doctor?"
Suddenly, a faint golden light—nearly invisible to the naked eye—began to pulse from James’s fingertips. Only James could feel the energy surging into the boy’s skull, stitching shattered neurons back together and absorbing the fluid clogging his lungs.
[System: Restoration Process Initiated...]
[Energy Sync: 20%... 45%... 70%...]
The skeptical doctors blinked. The heart monitor began to steady. The oxygen saturation, which had plummeted below 50%, started climbing rapidly: 85%... 92%... 98%.
"Unbelievable... look at the pressure! His intracranial pressure is dropping without a burr hole?!" one specialist shouted, staring at the monitor with bulging eyes.
The seizures stopped instantly. The boy’s ragged, foaming breaths became deep and rhythmic. The blue tint in his face faded into a healthy flush.
James pulled his hands away. He snapped the saline ampule and let a few drops fall onto the boy’s forehead—a simple camouflage for the miracle he had just performed.
"Patient is stable," James said coldly. "Move him to recovery. He’ll wake up in ten minutes."
Silence fell over the lobby. The specialists swarmed the boy, re-checking every stat. It was a miracle that defied every textbook ever written.
"This is impossible," Arnold muttered, checking the boy’s pupils. "His nerves are fully recovered. How did you do this?"
James gave Arnold a look of pure disdain before turning to Max, who stood frozen, his face ashen.
"Max," James said, his voice a low vibration that rattled Max’s spine. "You said a doctor’s hands should never shake, right? It looks like yours are shaking pretty hard right now."
Max tried to speak, but the words died in his throat. He stumbled back against an information desk, fear finally overriding his ego. "You... you used an untested drug!" Max shrieked, desperate for logic. "That’s it! You injected something illegally! You’re performing human experiments!"
James didn't bother responding. As he walked away, the lobby thawed. Doctors were buzzing with excitement, but in the shadow of a marble pillar, Sofia stood with a racing heart.
She looked at James’s broad shoulders, then at Max, who was currently throwing a temper tantrum at a nurse. In her eyes, Max now looked like a pathetic loser—a rich brat who had just lost his favorite toy.
I have to fix this, Sofia thought. If James can buy this hospital in a night, he can buy me the world.
…
An hour later, James found Sofia waiting in the VIP corridor. As soon as she saw him, she hurried over and tried to touch his sleeve, but James pulled away.
"James, please, just hear me out for one second," Sofia whispered.
James crossed his arms. "What is it now, Dr. Sofia?"
Sofia immediately donned a mask of tragic regret. "I was forced into it, James. Max threatened me. He said if I didn't break up with you, he’d destroy your career. I did all of it to protect you! I pretended to hate you so Max wouldn't hurt you any more than he already had!"
James nearly laughed at how quickly she had spun such a polished lie. A red notification flashed in his mind.
[Psychological Analysis: Subject Sofia is attempting high-level manipulation. Sincerity: 0.01%. Goal: Access to User’s financial assets.]
"Oh, really?" James offered a thin, cryptic smile. "So, spitting on my shoe this morning... was that also part of your 'protection' plan?"
Sofia choked on her words for a second but quickly recovered, reaching for James’s hand. This time, he let her take it. "That was just so they wouldn't suspect anything! James, I still love you. Remember the New Year’s fireworks? Remember our promise? My parents are out tonight. Come over for dinner? I want to explain everything, just the two of us. I miss you, James."
James looked into her eyes. He knew exactly what she was playing at.
"Dinner at your place?" James asked, feigning hesitation.
"Yes, James. I’ll cook your favorite. Please, give me one chance to make it up to you," Sofia pleaded, her fingers stroking the back of his hand.
James paused, letting the silence stretch until Sofia was holding her breath. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. I’ll be there at seven."
Sofia’s eyes lit up with a flash of triumph. "Thank you, James! I’ll be waiting. Don’t be late!"
- Writer
