Contest Winner: "Side Effects May Vary" by P.A. Cornell

[Oliviarfrias]

Side Effects May Vary

by P.A. Cornell

   “Mr. Taylor?”

   It’s about goddamn time, I think, white hot pain shooting through me as I rise from the hard, plastic waiting room chair. “Jim,” I say, following the receptionist down the pea-green hall to the examination room at the end. In the back of my mind I can’t help noticing she’s cute. The kind of woman I’d normally flirt with. But right now it’s all I can do to utter the single syllable that is my name. 

   Doc Mendez is already in the room, so I give him a nod in greeting as I enter, then somehow manage to hoist myself onto the examination table without passing out, paper covering crinkling as I shift in an attempt to get comfortable. A feeble attempt given the sensation in my midsection from which the generalized pain emanates, a feeling like a pit bull has its jaws locked around my stomach. A groan escapes through gritted teeth, and I notice sweat has broken out across my forehead from the effort.

   Given the pain I’m in, I’d have normally gone to a hospital, but they can’t help me in a run-of-the-mill ER. Whatever’s wrong with me, it has to do with the bots, I know it, and this is the only clinic equipped to handle that. 

   Dr. Mendez turns in his swivel chair, taking my state in at a glance, but managing to almost conceal his concern. “What brings you in today, Mr. Taylor? Is the back pain still an issue?”

   “Yeah, but now I also have abdominal pain…here.” I massage the lower part of my belly where the pain is sharpest, but it brings no relief. “I thought you said the nano treatment would make me a new man. That I’d feel younger and stronger. Ever since you injected the nanobots into me, I’ve been getting worse.”

   “That is unusual,” he tells me. He swivels back around to his computer and brings up my file. “Let’s see…you came in on May third, complaining of diminished eyesight and joint pain, at which time I suggested the nano treatment. You returned the following week when I administered it, and during your follow-up a couple weeks later you said the joint pain was gone and your vision had never been better. I made a note here that this showed the treatment had been successful.”

   “Yeah…I mean, at first it seemed like it was,” I agree. “But then the back pain started and you said I’d probably pulled a muscle and that the nanobots would repair it. Except the back pain’s only gotten worse and now I have stomach pain too—and it feels like it’s spreading.” 

  I take a deep breath as the pain intensifies as if on cue. I double over with a moan and my vision starts to go spotty at the corners, until finally—mercifully—it eases. But only slightly. 

   Having watched all this with clinical detachment, Dr. Mendez stands and walks over to the examination table. He gives me a second to catch my breath. Makes sure I’m not gonna make more work for him by passing out and hitting the floor, then points to the most obvious source of my pain. My stomach.

   “May I?” he asks, before proceeding with his examination.

   I manage a nod, and sit upright with some effort, raising my shirt so he can do what he needs to. To distract myself, I stare at a poster on the wall as he pushes on my belly, clenching my teeth to keep from screaming. The poster shows a liquid-filled syringe and a magnified portion of this encircled in red, zoomed in on a tiny robot that resembles a tick. 

   “I don’t feel anything unusual,” says the doctor. “Why don’t we step into the treatment lab and see what’s going on with our little friends in there.”

   He helps me down and I follow him into an adjoining room. There’s a large ring-shaped machine off to one side that I remember he referred to as the scanner when I first got the nanobot injection. Dr. Mendez opens a door on the side of the ring and gestures for me to step in where there’s a small platform to sit on. I have to lean against the side of the machine to manage a seated position. The sweat has grown cold across my body, and I shiver as the doctor turns the scanner on before heading over to the monitoring station.

   “Strange,” he says, after a moment. “And you’ve been taking the prescription I gave you?”

   “Sure. I mean, I did miss a few doses. Forgot a couple, and then was late refilling the scrip when I ran out.”

   “Mm.” He types something into the computer and waits, then hits the intercom for the receptionist. “Alicia, can you send one of the nano technicians up here? Tell them we have an issue with some bots. Ask for Daniel. He’s the one who programmed this batch.” 

   “What is it?” I ask. “What do you mean there’s an issue with the bots?”

   “This isn’t my area of expertise,” he tells me. “I mainly oversee the biological side of the equation. Let’s see what Daniel says.” 

   I don’t find this reassuring.

   A short while later, a tall, skinny man appears in the doorway. He walks directly to where Dr. Mendez sits at the monitor without bothering to introduce himself or so much as glance in my direction.

   “I’ve typed in some basic commands but the nanobots don’t seem to be responding,” Dr. Mendez explains.

   The tech nods and begins keying in what I assume is code. This goes on for quite a while as I try my best to focus on the seams between the metal plates that make up the scanner so I don’t notice the searing agony as much. It doesn’t work.

   Finally, the tech stands, speaking for the first time. “We’ve lost contact with the bots.”

   The silence hangs for a moment.

   “Has this ever happened before?” I ask.

   They give each other a look I can’t quite decipher, before Dr. Mendez breaks the silence. “Daniel will keep working the problem. In the meantime, I think I may know what went wrong.”

   “What?” I ask, feeling some measure of relief that a cause means one step closer to a cure.

   “When you stopped taking the immunosuppressant prescription, your immune system attacked the nanobots,” the doctor explains. “We’ve seen that before. Usually, it leads to damaged bots that are passed through urination. Generally, not enough bots to cause a problem and the remainder go back to proper function once the prescription is resumed. But in this case…”

   He trails off, spreading his hands in a gesture I can’t quite read.

   “In this case, what?”

   “In this case it seems that the bots defended themselves.”

   I’m not sure what he’s telling me.

   “Are you saying the bots fought back?”

   “The bots went to war with your immune system,” Dr. Mendez says. “What’s more, they seem to be gaining ground—in the form of your organs.”

   I let that sink in while the tech—Daniel—continues to type furiously on the keyboard, his expression growing ever more dour. I feel a sick sensation that I didn’t have when I arrived.

   “I’m trying to shut them down, but it’s not working,” Daniel says. “It looks like they’re drawing power from the nervous system. I think they’ve…deliberately cut themselves off from us.”

   “What does this mean?” I ask, blood turning to ice water in my veins.

   “We’re no longer in control.”

   “But they’re attacking my body. Feeding off me! Can’t you do something? Flush them out somehow or irradiate them or…or…?”

    I glance over at Dr. Mendez, seeming to snap him out of his shock. He nods his head vigorously. “I’m sure we’ll come up with a solution, isn’t that right, Daniel?”

   “It’s not that simple,” Daniel tells him. “The fact that these bots have done this—defended themselves and taken control the way they did—it indicates intelligence. Sentience.”

   “So what?” I say.

   “So if this is true sentience, it’s a first for an artificial lifeform,” he explains. “These bots represent a new species. One we can’t simply exterminate.”

   My ears are ringing and I’m not sure what he’s telling me.

   “What happens to me then?” I ask.

   Daniel looks to Dr. Mendez, then to me. “You’re just one person, Mr. Taylor. I’m afraid they outnumber you by a significant amount.”

   I look to the doctor, silently pleading with him to help me as the pain returns anew. 

   “There must be something we can do,” he says. “Mr. Taylor is a human being. We can’t just let the nanobots…kill him.”

   “It may not be up to us. This is a matter for the courts to decide.”

   “But that could take years,” I say. “What happens to me in the meantime?”

   Dr. Mendez wrings his hands and looks at Daniel, who shrugs. 

   “We’ll do our best to make you comfortable,” the doctor says, finally.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 
P.A. Cornell is a Chilean-Canadian speculative fiction writer. A graduate of the Odyssey workshop, her stories have been published in over fifty magazines and anthologies, including Lightspeed, Apex, and three “Best of” anthologies. In addition to becoming the first Chilean Nebula finalist in 2024, Cornell has been a finalist for the Aurora and World Fantasy Awards, was longlisted for the BSFA Awards, and won Canada’s Short Works Prize. When not writing, she can be found assembling intricate Lego builds or drinking ridiculous quantities of tea. Sometimes both. For more on the author and her work, visit her website pacornell.com.