Speed vs. Scrutiny in Ward 7
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Create your own story with WhatIf!
Tachyon
Clock’s ticking, pharmacist. My turbo-drip is already halfway—patient’s fever’s dropping like a flag.
Maomao
Fever lies. Bacteria don’t sprint; they dig trenches. You’re only pushing the crisis to the final straight.
Tachyon
(Micro-dose of epinephrine—just enough to fool the monitors. Finish line in sight.)
Maomao
Heart rate just leapt—what did you spike? Step away from the IV, jockey!
Tachyon
Victory formation! Vitals stable—discharge papers print in three, two—
Maomao
(Let her celebrate; adrenaline rebounds hard. Crash cart will arrive right on cue.)
Tachyon
He... he hit the wall. That’s impossible—my stats were flawless!