Chapter 2 - The Hallways of Riverside
The smell of floor sanitizer and stale coffee hung thick in the air on the third floor of Riverside Medical Center.
Mason sat in a vinyl chair outside Room 314, his work boots planted on the linoleum, his thumb tracing the worn leather edge of his wallet. He had been there for forty-five minutes. He had already spoken with Dr. Callahan, handed over Agnes’s medication list, and verified that her heart rhythm had stabilized after two doses of intravenous fluids and potassium.
The door to the room opened quietly.
Agnes lay in the hospital bed, her tiny frame almost swallowed by the crisp white sheets. An IV line was taped to the back of her thin, spotted hand, and a heart monitor hummed softly beside her head. But when her pale blue eyes found Mason sitting in the corner, her face softened into a warm, frail smile.
“Mason,” she rasped, her voice thin as tissue paper. “You’re supposed to be applying for jobs today.”
Mason chuckled softly, pulling his chair closer to the bed and taking her free hand gently in his calloused palm. “The job market can wait an hour, Agnes. How are you feeling?”
“Like an old engine that needs its spark plugs replaced,” she said, letting out a weak sigh. “They told me Victoria was outside.”
Mason’s smile faltered slightly. “She’s in the waiting room down the hall.”
Agnes studied his face with the quiet, penetrating wisdom that eighty-two years of living granted a person. She tapped her fingers against his wrist. “You met her at my house, didn't you?”
“I did,” Mason said.
“She’s the one who fired you.”
It wasn't a question.
Mason looked down at his boots, taking a slow breath. “She didn't know I was your neighbor, Agnes. It doesn't matter.”
“It does matter,” Agnes insisted, her frail voice suddenly taking on a sharp edge of conviction. “My niece is a brilliant woman, Mason, but she has spent ten years letting powerful men in dark suits convince her that heartlessness is the same thing as strength. When her mother died, she buried herself in that company. She turned her heart into a stone vault.”
Before Mason could answer, the door swung open again.
Victoria stood in the doorway. She had changed into a dark coat, her hair gathered more neatly, but the exhaustion on her face was undeniable. She held a paper cup of water in her hand, her posture stiff as she stepped into the room.
“Aunt Agnes,” Victoria said, her voice dropping into a tender, hesitant register that Mason had never heard during his six years at Northstar. “The doctor said your heart rhythm is normal now.”
“I know what the doctor said,” Agnes replied crisply, looking at her niece. “And I know I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you if Mason hadn't spent six months keeping track of my prescriptions.”
Victoria looked at Mason, her mouth opening slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
The heavy silence in the hospital room was shattered by the sharp chime of Victoria’s smartphone. She pulled it from her coat pocket, glanced at the screen, and her entire face turned pale—not with sorrow, but with immediate, sheer terror.
She stepped back toward the hallway, her voice dropping into an urgent whisper as she answered the call. “This is Victoria... What do you mean the master server went down? ... No, the secondary failover was supposed to kick in automatically at 9:00 AM! ... How many clients are affected?”
Mason stood up from his chair. Through the glass window of the door, he watched Victoria press her hand against her forehead, her body trembling.
“What’s happening?” Agnes asked softly from the bed.
May you like
Mason looked through the glass. He knew that system. He had spent four years building the core infrastructure for Northstar’s enterprise server network.
“The main system just collapsed,” Mason said quietly. “And the people she hired to replace me don't know how to bring it back up.”
