418

Chapter 2: Insurance

2

Insurance

How could anything look so dead, but not actually be dead? Brian thought about it all the way back to the office. He’d had staff injured before, he’d had one crushed, and he’d even had one—he’d wanted to get rid of—he’d sent off to work at the nuclear plant. But he hadn’t had one damaged to the point of unconscious and alive. Surely, 418 wasn’t going to make it?

The car pulled up at the office. “Make busy.” He did not tell it to park in case he needed it again. Brian hadn’t noticed getting out or walking through the carport. The next thing he knew he was back in his office. Opening his computer, he went to the Popular’s website and checked his case; useless. It still said pending.

Brian scrolled to the bottom of the page. He clicked the help link, and a video window popped up, “We would like to help you, would you chat with us?” There were two options, a green “Yes” button and a red “No” button. Brian picked the green “Yes” button.

The page loaded in a flash. An attendant, stylized after Brian’s own features—brown skin, big brown eyes, a tuft of thick black straight hair, much like his own when he was younger—appeared in the pop-up. “Good afternoon. My name is Rahul. How can I assist you today, Mr. Agarwal?”

Brian answered, centering himself in the display of his camera—as if it mattered, the attendant was only animation and likely didn’t care if Brian was there at all as long as it got the audio feedback it was listening for. “I would like to get an update on a case I have pending.” Brian started searching for the serial number. “The number ends in 418,” he continued.

The assistant cut him off. “The case of 686381KAA418, now referred to as 418: The staff was involved in an exception involving transportation this morning. They were transported to clinic 14. The prognosis is indeterminate, timeline, indeterminate.”

Brian shook his head slightly, rolled his eyes.

The animated assistant, after it had decided Brian was not going to speak, continued, as if Brian had agreed to something. “Yes, after examination, a prognosis and diagnosis will be made.”

Brian had known he should not have gone with the lowest cost insurance company. Something his father used to say echoed in his ear, “You pay for what you get, but you don’t always get what you pay for.” Brian liked to parry back, “Sometimes you paid and didn’t get,” which his father would concede was true. “If you don’t pay, you certainly won’t get.” It was the third part of this, the not getting it, that Brian now feared.

“Look,” Brian replied, “can I speak to someone?”

The animation stopped its explanation, didn’t look hurt, and didn’t argue with him. “I can set up a call back at a time that is convenient for you, or perhaps I can be of assistance?” it replied with programmatic optimism.

“Call me back.”

“When shall you be free?”

“Anytime during business hours, anytime ten to five.”

“Okay, I will have your account representative call you back at her or his earliest opportunity. Is there anything else I can do for you?” the animation asked.

“No. Thanks.” Brian clicked the chat panel closed. It would probably be a good time to go for a coffee.

I felt like I was floating up from the bottom of a deep dark lake, my limbs waterlogged, so heavy I could not move them. It felt like I was moving through thick cold water, as slowly the light from the surface brightened. I couldn’t see where I was or how I got there, but at least the light was getting brighter and not darker. I tried to figure out how I got there. Everything was a mess. I must have been buried in the bottom of a lake, water placed on top of me, pinning me in the muck. I was beginning to float back to the top. It felt like the water was flowing through me, I was coming out of dissolution.

When Brian got back from getting his coffee, his computer was ringing. Why hadn’t they just called his mobile? He rushed around his desk and touched the screen, where a friendly green box was flashing the friendly word “Answer.”

A two-paned window popped open. The smiling face of a young man, a short brown haircut, acne and hazel-colored eyes, appeared in one side. “Hello, Mr. Agarwal.”

Brian settled in front of the camera, smoothed down his shirt and made sure he was sitting straight. He reached up and removed the cover from his webcam. His own smiling face appeared in the darkened window beside the smiling young man who appeared on the screen. “Hello,” Brian answered, “please call me King.”

The smile on the young man faded as he looked away from his camera. “Um, yes,” he was reading something, searching, not finding. “King it is.” Brian could see him type. He hadn’t been doing this job long enough to type and not look like he was doing it. “Well, good afternoon, King, my name is Bolt Greene, and I am your senior personal claims adjuster. I understand you wanted to speak with us directly,” he continued, feeling better to be back on script. “What can I help you with?”

“Sure, Bolt,” Brian started a little awkwardly. He watched for a reaction that he might have gotten it wrong, but there wasn’t. This guy’s name was Bolt. “As you know, I have staff in the clinic, at Clinic 14.” Brian paused. The young man had been waiting for Brian to say something more definite, but Brian liked saying things that were open-ended to see where it would go.

Bolt got tired of waiting. “Yes, thank you, King. I can see your staff 686381KAA418, to be now referred to as 418, was involved in an exception this morning while 418 was en route to its assignment.”

“Yes,” Brian tried to prompt him along.

“As a result of the exception, 418 was damaged and was taken to Clinic 14 for assessment.”

Smiling, Brian replied, “Thank you, I was there.”

The young man smiled, probably because he could see that in the notes he was reading. “Yes, you were.” His cheer level went up just a bit. “And you saw we have taken all appropriate precautions with your staff. It is stabilized and immobilized pending review.”

“Yes, that is what I wanted to talk to you about?”

“Yes, Mr…” pause, “…King. What would you like to know?”

Brian sat back a bit, feeling more comfortable, “I know you have taken all the precautions and preventative measures and whatnot, but what I saw didn’t look good.” Brian paused.

Finally, “How so?”

“Well,” he continued, wondering how to put it carefully, “it looks pretty dead.” He didn’t at all put it carefully.

“Oh, I see,” Bolt had evidently not seen 418. “Well, we are assured that your staff, 418, will be fine, but we have had to freeze, or immobilize, the body for a few days to let the physical trauma subside, in order to conduct a proper evaluation.”

Brian scratched his nose, then remembered he was on camera. “Seems like a lot of work for staff?”

The young man looked flustered, like he hadn’t expected Brian to head off in that direction. “Um, I’m not certain what you mean?”

“I mean…” Brian was amazed how calm he was. Perhaps it was his belief in how useless it was to argue with an insurance company. “It seems like a lot of work to do for staff that is pretty much dead.”

“Oh, that,” Bolt continued, “let me assure you King, we have placed your staff into that state, a form of catatonia so that its body can heal without it being able to hurt itself further.” He repeated the same excuse again, as if this wording would stick better.

Brian was nodding at the screen; still not sure this was required for staff.

“Our techs have assessed that, aside from some superficial damage to the left cheek, there is not likely any lasting physical damage that would prevent your staff from returning to work.”

“Really?” Brian replied skeptically. No way! That one is busted for sure, he thought.

Bolt’s voice lowered a bit as if this part was a bit trickier, “We have to do an assessment if there has been any brain damage.”

“Right.” This was the news that Brian had been waiting for, “I saw…” He had to pause. ‘418’ it sounded odd to say. “And 418 looks pretty brain damaged.”

Bolt smiled, back on track. “Correct, and if we find that your staff has been damaged and cannot return to work, this will be reflected in the compensation portion of your claim.”

“But why can’t we do that now?” Brian asked.

Bolt replied, “Because we don’t know if there has been brain damage.”

“I’m pretty sure there has been.”

“But we don’t know.”

This wasn’t going to work out. Sensing the impasse, he tried a different tactic. “How long will this evaluation take?”

Bolt searched his screen, “I would say,” he paused as he read, “about a week.”

“A week!” Brian almost shouted. “What do you mean a week?”

Bolt smiled, feeling in control again. His white teeth shone through as he smiled. “First, the swelling and hemorrhaging has to abate.” Brian was impressed by the word abate. He’d have to look that up. “Then, we will have to do a full check on his education systems.”

“Uh, huh.” Brian mentally did the math. “Who is going to pay for that?”

“We will,” Bolt say cheerfully.

“And who is going to compensate me for not having a staff member while you do all this testing?” Brian asked.

“King,” Bolt continued, seeing an end to this conversation. “We here at the Popular Insurance Company are here for you during times like this, and we will compensate you through the claim system for the lost productivity of your staff.”

“Oh,” Brian answered, not liking the answer, but not sure what else to say. “I guess that’s fair.”

“We are glad you think that,” the young insurance adjuster replied. “Please continue to check our webapp for status on your claim, or you could sign up for push updates on your claim to be sent to your mobile devices.”

Brian smiled thinly. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with today? King.”

Brian searched through his own brain. “No, I guess not.”

“Thank you,” Bolt replied. “It has been a pleasure serving you today. If you need us again, please reach out to us at your convenience.”

I guess I’m getting what I paid for, he thought as he closed the teleconference app. It was silly that he had to wait for the Popular to waste their own money and his time before paying out. Why they just didn’t send 418 to retirement, close the case! It was beyond him. What if they did fix 418? Was it really going to go back to work after a wallop like that? It would just break again, and Brian would end up with sixty percent wages from the Popular while they fixed it again. It was preposterous, a terrible way to do business.