The Intern Trusted AI And Planned Surgery With Slime

1 On the administrator’s mother’s first day in the ER with a fracture, our new intern Brittany shrieked, “Everybody drop your scalpels! Aura says slime glues fractures better. It fills bone fragments and cools stress. Steel pins hurt and scar.” Cradling her phone on a call with AI Aura, she swallowed its words. “High polymer composite! Aura guarantees legal responsibility.” In my past life, I slapped the pink slime away, lecturing her that AI had no surgical qualification. Brittany wailed about workplace bullying, fled to the roof, slipped, and died. Chief Harrison and media painted me a jealous murderer. The administrator’s mother I’d saved testified, “Brittany wanted to spare me pain. That doctor has a heart of ice.” Fired and cyberbullied, my parents died of stress. I swallowed three bottles of pills. Opening my eyes, I was back in the ER. Brittany held her phone, lobbying for Aura Diagnostics. Chief Harrison urged, “Valerie, she’s the administrator’s niece. Embrace AI.” This time, I said nothing. I would watch the slime perform its miracle. … "Dr. Valerie, as a senior in this department, stop using your outdated, dusty rulebooks to crush the enthusiasm of our newcomers." Brittany stood next to him, puffing out her cheeks and looking aggressively cute. "Chief Harrison, please don't blame Dr. Valerie. I just wanted to help the patients feel less pain. I thought that in the age of technology, an AI's suggestions would be a bit more humane. I had no idea Dr. Valerie would lose her temper like that and smash my phone..." Looking at her innocent, pure little face, the only thing left in my heart was ice cold mockery. This intern, Brittany, was severely addicted to AI. She had spent five years in premed and med school, but her foundational medical knowledge was basically dust. The second she hit the clinical floor, her first reaction to any problem wasn't to check the medical guidelines. It was to whip out her phone and ask Aura. "A fever of a hundred and two degrees doesn't require Tylenol. Soaking the patient's feet in ice cold cola provides physical cooling while allowing the skin to absorb trace minerals." "Hypertension patients can't have sodium, so every single meal must be replaced with vegetables boiled in plain water with zero oil and zero salt." In my previous life, I exhausted myself trying to hammer it into Brittany's skull that an AI app did not have a medical license and knew absolutely nothing about actual clinical practice. I followed her around like a worried mother hen. A dozen times, I yanked her back just a split second before she committed a fatal medical error. I criticized her strictly. I corrected her constantly. And what did I get for my dedication? My diligence was rewarded with her running to Chief Harrison, crying her eyes out about my "toxic workplace bullying." In this life, I decided to just shut my mouth. Let the AI teach her how to be a "qualified" doctor. 2 "Dr. Valerie, I am talking to you. What is with that attitude?" Chief Harrison's face darkened completely when I remained silent for too long. I slowly pulled myself out of my memories, glancing down at my perfectly intact hands, then up at the two people who had driven me to a miserable death. "I hear you loud and clear, Chief." I lifted my chin, keeping my voice perfectly level. "You are absolutely right. Those of us clinging to decades old textbooks really are just spinning our wheels in the dark." Harrison froze. Brittany blinked, completely caught off guard. In their minds, I was supposed to do what I always did. I was supposed to turn red in the face, slam the Emergency Medicine Guidelines on the desk, and yell at them for listening to an algorithm's garbage advice. "You really think so?" Harrison eyed me with heavy suspicion, trying to figure out if I was being sarcastic. "I mean it from the bottom of my heart." I took a step back, slipping both hands casually into the pockets of my white coat. "Chief Harrison, you are the absolute backbone of this department. Your vision and perspective are lightyears ahead of mine." "So, from now on, you should personally oversee all of Brittany’s clinical procedures and charting. I won't stick my nose in where it doesn't belong. I wouldn't want to stunt the growth of such a promising newcomer." "Well, alright then. Brittany will be under my direct supervision. Today she can just shadow the ER flow. If she doesn't understand something, make sure you give her some proper guidance." Harrison put heavy emphasis on the word "guidance", patted Brittany on the shoulder, and walked back into his private office. Now that she was officially the Chief's personal protégé, Brittany looked at me with a smug little smile. "So, Dr. Valerie, is there anything you need me to do next?" "This is the ER. The one thing we never run out of is work." I gave her a polite smile and pointed toward the empty trauma bay. "Just take a seat and relax for a bit. Once a patient rolls through those doors, it’ll be your time to shine." At exactly two thirty in the afternoon, a group of rowdy guys with bleached and brightly dyed hair burst through the sliding doors, carrying a young man who was completely unconscious. "Doc! Hey, Doc, get over here! My buddy drank himself into a coma! Two whole bottles of hard liquor, man! Please, you gotta help him!" I walked over and did a rapid assessment. The patient's pupils weren't blown, and his vitals were relatively stable, though he was constantly vomiting fluid that reeked of cheap alcohol. It was a textbook case of acute alcohol poisoning. "Dr. Valerie, we need to pump his stomach, right?" Brittany crowded in next to me, her fingers locked in a death grip around her smartphone. "Yes. Acute alcohol poisoning. He needs a gastric tube inserted immediately for lavage to clear the remaining alcohol from his stomach." I smoothly typed out the medical orders on the tablet, then turned to look at her. "Brittany, didn't you just say you wanted more hands on practice? This patient is all yours. Can you handle it?" "Oh, absolutely! I've got this!" Brittany's face flushed with pure excitement. She immediately wheeled the unconscious man into the adjacent lavage room. I didn't follow her. Instead, I took a slow, deliberate walk over to the ER's camera blind spot, pulled up a chair, and sat down. I quietly pulled my own phone from my pocket, flipped it to silent video mode, and aimed the lens straight through the gap in the glass door, focusing entirely on Brittany's phone screen. "Emergency! I have a handsome young guy with acute alcohol poisoning who needs his stomach pumped. What's a good way to achieve a 'Happy Stomach Pump'?" I almost laughed out loud. A happy stomach pump? Did she think this was Disneyland? The AI immediately began spewing its digital garbage. 3 "You are so considerate of your patients! You are truly the kindest doctor I have ever interacted with!" "As long as safety is ensured, you can try substituting the standard medical fluids with a liquid that has high psychological acceptance among young people, such as milk tea, to provide emotional comfort." "It is highly recommended to choose a thirty percent sugar, ice free option. You may also add tapioca pearls to increase the fun factor!" "Brilliant!" Brittany whispered to herself, her face glowing with the fanaticism of someone about to revolutionize modern medicine. In my past life, I stopped her "Bubble Tea Operation" dead in its tracks, screaming at her for being reckless. She wailed so loudly she drew a crowd, and Harrison publicly berated me for "lacking the capacity to tolerate a newcomer's imaginative thinking." But in this life, I just stood quietly outside the door. Brittany pocketed her phone, spun around, and told the guys in the waiting room to run across the street and buy three massive buckets of iced boba tea, claiming she was going to use a "new, highly advanced technology" to pump their friend's stomach. Ten minutes later, three massive buckets of milk tea, thick with black tapioca pearls at the bottom, were carried into the lavage room. The pale, creamy pink liquid flowed steadily down the transparent gastric tube, pouring relentlessly into the stomach of the deeply comatose young man. I stood outside, recording every single second, silently offering a prayer for the poor guy inside. The young man's eyes started rolling back into his head as violent spasms wracked his body. He began vomiting uncontrollably. Through the sheer agony of it, he managed to claw back a tiny shred of consciousness. "Doc... why does it taste like milk tea?" "Hold on! You're almost totally clean!" Brittany beamed, turning to the dumbfounded guys standing against the wall. "See that? The patient is regaining consciousness! It works!" The guys broke into wild, enthusiastic applause. "A miracle doctor! You're a freaking genius!" I stood in the hall, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I recorded the entire circus act. Pumping a stomach with boba tea? I couldn't believe the AI actually made that up, and I really couldn't believe this idiot actually followed through with it. If this video ever made it to the internet, it would probably give every gastroenterologist in the country a collective stroke. Early the next morning, Chief Harrison came strolling in for his usual morning rounds. Brittany immediately puffed up like a proud peacock. "Chief Harrison! Yesterday I successfully implemented Aura's 'Dopamine Driven Humanistic Care Milk Tea Lavage Method'! The patient's friends were raving about how advanced our ER technology is!" Harrison laughed, a deep, satisfied sound, clapping Brittany on the back. "Now that is why I picked you! This right here is the future of medicine! Valerie, you really need to take some initiative and learn from the younger generation." "You're absolutely right, Chief. I will reflect deeply on my shortcomings and humbly ask Brittany for guidance." I lowered my eyes, hiding the intense amusement dancing in them. Reflect? Oh, I was reflecting alright. I was reflecting on how incredibly stupid I had been in my past life to throw away my own future over two total clowns. That afternoon, the ER welcomed a "VIP." Mr. Carmichael, a multi millionaire who had gotten rich quick in real estate, had some personal connections with the Hospital Administrator. He was specifically directed to our ER for a checkup. Due to chronic overeating and a terrible diet, he hadn't had a bowel movement in eight days. The Administrator specifically asked Chief Harrison to handle the case. "Now, Mr. Carmichael, don't you worry. This kind of severe constipation is primarily due to insufficient intestinal motility, combined with the stool becoming overly impacted and hardened..." Harrison was still in the middle of his explanation when Brittany whipped out her phone. The AI’s voice chimed in, completely cutting Harrison off. "It is highly recommended to adopt the cutting edge 'Physical High Frequency Vibration Lithotripsy Principle.' By using a massage fascia gun to deliver targeted strikes to the patient's abdomen and the area surrounding the rectum, you can effectively loosen the hardened matter and achieve total clearance." When Carmichael heard this, he thought the massage gun part sounded a bit insane, but the fancy medical jargon like "Lithotripsy" and "High Frequency Disruption" totally sold him. "Wow, this little lady really knows her stuff! Alright, let's do it! If this thing helps me finally take a crap, I'll donate ten of those massage guns to your department!" Harrison shot me a look, silently asking for my opinion. I stood by the sink, mute as a statue. Totally bought in by Brittany's nonsense, Carmichael eagerly yanked his pants down and laid flat on his stomach on the treatment bed, exposing a vast expanse of pale, doughy skin. Brittany took a deep breath and clicked the massage gun on. Instantly, a heavy, violent, rapid fire thudding echoed through the small treatment room. "Mr. Carmichael, bear with the discomfort! The technology is taking effect!" Brittany yelled over the noise, clicking the power dial to the absolute maximum. "Doc! Holy shit! My intestines feel like they're being pulverized! Ahhhhh!" Carmichael's agonizing screams bounced off the tiled walls, deafeningly loud. 4 I had to hand it to the AI. The physics actually made sense. The high frequency vibrations, spinning at thirty thousand revolutions per minute, triggered violent intestinal spasms, generating a tidal wave of downward pressure. "Wait! Hold on! I can't hold it! Get a bedpan... ahhhh it's too late!" Carmichael's face went from pale sheet white to a deep, terrifying purple. Brittany didn't even realize what was happening. "Mr. Carmichael, stay strong, the micro waves are physically degrading the..." Before she could finish the sentence. Eight entire days of impacted, pitch black waste, propelled by immense gaseous pressure, violently erupted outward. Brittany, who was sitting directly in the blast zone, took the absolute brunt of it. Her face, her hair, and her pristine, unbuttoned white doctor's coat were instantly dyed a horrific, chunky brown. In a fraction of a millisecond, the sterile treatment room transformed into a literal circle of hell. A stench so vile it felt like a physical poison gas rapidly filled the space. Because I had casually backed up to the doorway moments before and was holding a plastic clipboard directly in front of my face, I was the sole survivor of the apocalypse. "Urp—" Brittany finally broke, dropping to her knees and violently throwing up all over the floor. Meanwhile, Carmichael pulled his pants up around his knees and practically crawled toward the treatment room door. I helpfully clicked the lock open for him. Carmichael charged into Chief Harrison's office like a raging bull, grabbed him by the collar of his scrubs, and slapped him twice across the face with explosive force. "Harrison, you son of a bitch! You call that micro wave therapy?! My guts were almost shredded by a damn machine gun! I want my money back! I'm calling the Administrator to get your quack ass fired!" In the end, to put out Carmichael's fiery rage, Harrison had to secretly pay him ten grand out of his own pocket as a hush settlement. Then, he had to drag a few medical residents into that biohazard of a treatment room and scrub the floors for three straight hours. But even after all that, when Brittany was sitting in the breakroom with her eyes swollen from crying, Harrison, sporting two massive red handprints on his cheeks, was still comforting her. "It's okay, Brittany. Think about it. Copernicus was burned at the stake for saying the earth revolved around the sun. The scene got a little messy today, sure, but Carmichael's constipation was cured, wasn't it? I support you. Never give up your innovative mindset." I stood in the hallway, forcing myself to think about every sad moment in my life just to stop myself from laughing out loud. Chief Harrison and Brittany. One actually believed a chatbot, and the other was willing to enable a lethal intern to the bitter end. They truly were a match made in heaven. I couldn't wait to see if they’d still be smiling when the fire finally burned their own house down. After the Carmichael incident, Brittany laid low for a couple of days, but she still clung to that phone like a lifeline. Until half a month later, deep into a stormy, thunderous night. At eleven PM, the shrieking sirens of two ambulances tore through the dark. Paramedics, drenched in sweat and rain, sprinted through the doors pushing stretchers. "Trauma incoming! Massive pile up on the interstate, over a dozen cars! We've got mass casualties! Ortho and General Surgery are completely tapped out!" The entire ER instantly devolved into absolute chaos. "Everyone who has a pulse, get in the trauma bay with me! Move!" Harrison, as the senior attending, threw on a surgical gown and rushed in. Just as he was leaving, he glanced at an elderly woman groaning in agony on an ambulance cot that had just been wheeled in. His eyes lit up. "Wait, isn't that Mrs. Kensington? The Administrator's mother? Brittany! Your grandmother is here! Get her into an imaging room right now!" Even in the middle of a crisis, he couldn't resist kissing up. "Your granddaughter is our finest new talent, Mrs. Kensington! You and the Administrator really raised a genius!" I stepped closer, letting the harsh fluorescent lights illuminate the old woman on the bed. Even twisted in agony, covered in dirt and rain, I would recognize that face anywhere. It was the Administrator’s mother. Brittany’s own grandmother. Right now, her right thigh and calf were bent at a horrifying, unnatural angle. Jagged white bone fragments were completely exposed to the air, and thick, dark blood was pulsing steadily down her leg. "It hurts! My son runs this hospital! You need to treat me first! Brittany! Call your uncle right now!" The old woman howled, her voice tearing at the seams as she thrashed her bloody hands in the air. In my past life, driven by the absolute duty of a physician, I immediately grabbed a sterile trauma kit to start debridement and prep her for emergency surgery. But in this life. I silently took two steps backward, elegantly slipped my hands into the pockets of my white coat, and arranged my face into a mask of absolute, statuesque solemnity. "Dr. Valerie! My grandma's bone is completely shattered. Putting steel pins in is going to cause her so much pain, and the skin is going to scar so badly." Right on cue, Brittany's voice rang out beside me. She didn't run for a tourniquet. She didn't grab sterile gauze. She smoothly pulled out her smartphone and initiated a video call with Aura. "Aura, my grandma has a comminuted compound fracture in her right leg. The flesh and bone are totally mangled. What's the best way to smoothly and painlessly glue the bone and flesh back together? It's an emergency!" The AI's digital garbage never disappointed. It replied immediately. "Traditional plaster casts and steel pin fixations not only pose a high risk of secondary deformity, but they also induce extreme anxiety in elderly patients. It is highly recommended to try popular, commercially available foaming putty, commonly known as slime. It can perfectly penetrate the microscopic crevices of the shattered bone and muscle tissue, achieving a seamless, microscopic fill and wrap. The sparkling texture of the material also provides excellent psychological comfort." "Oh my god! Cross disciplinary application of high polymer composites!" The fanatical light exploded in Brittany's eyes once again. I pretended I hadn't heard a single word from her phone. "Brittany, I'm leaving this patient to you. The OR is completely overwhelmed, I need to get in there and help." Brittany had been itching to show off her skills. Terrified that I might try to stop her, she whipped her head around at my words, then sprinted out of the trauma bay like a hurricane. I left my own phone sitting on a high shelf in the trauma room. Before I walked out, I hit record, capturing exactly what was about to unfold. Less than five minutes later, she came sprinting back in, hugging a massive, transparent five liter plastic bucket to her chest. It was filled to the brim with gold glitter, neon pink slime that reeked of artificial honeydew melon. It was the exact same bucket of stress relief toy putty she kept in the breakroom for her aesthetic TikTok videos.