RN Roghayeh Kermanshahi sat slumped with jaded eyes looking over the day's medical records. Thursday, October 15th 17:37 the rugged analog clock to her left displayed in a tint of green just bright enough to be mildly frustrating. It was another long day at the Soradegh National Hospital in Iroshahr, and the end of her shift could not come soon enough. "Become a nurse" they said. "You'll feel so fulfilled helping people!" they said.
No one ever said anything about the man throwing a fit in front of the entire ER because the state of the bathroom wasn't to his liking. No one ever said anything about the endless paperwork. No one ever said anything about the dismissive doctors who regarded her valid medical advice as trivial.
She looked back at the clock- 17:39. The voice over the radio jolted her awake. Roghayeh dashed out of her chair and rushed to the ambulance bay. As the engine sped off and joined a convoy of at least three others and a fire truck. Her grievances now felt entirely secondary. This was big. 5 minutes before even arriving on site, the ambulance crew could see plainly for themselves what the preposterous briefing had told them.
Nurse Kermanshahi did a double take as smoke lingered from the collapsed roof of the Senjar Heavy Industries building; a skyscraper rising 49 stories above the city floor, the upper 4 with their windows blown out and support beams exposed, three billowing chutes draped over the sides. She muttered in praise of Eubud in hopes he extend his heavenly protection. She was sure she heard veteran EMT of 13 years Afrin Khavar do the same beside her.
Of all places, the Hectate capsule scheduled to splash down later that day in Central Kafrican waters missed entirely and smashed through the top of the administration building of one of the nation's top companies.
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[to be continued (?)]
