Colony of Purple Rock, on planet Sothis. Sirius Star System. 26th of November, 2709 AD.

A pandemic had started to disseminate in my colony, Purple Rock. A neurodegenerative disease of unknown origin and spreading pattern beyond its preference to prey on men rather than women kept many privileged minds at a loss over the course of many sleepless nights and over-exhausting days.

Until a silver lining of sorts appeared. Suits.

Our patients chose a robotic body, or a suit, and discarded their flesh and bones in a heartbeat. I couldn't get it. Many doctors like me slaved over a cure, and they disregarded all our efforts as if they were inconsequential as a fly. I was beyond outraged.

"This is preposterous!" I exclaimed, my voice thundering from wall to wall.

I stood in the conference room where I, as a member of the audience, was delighted to witness the downfall of medicine: an emergency conference about how fantastic suits were, tailored by Suit Robotics—the company who produced them—to captivate my medical colleagues into accepting our defeat.

In a quick gesture, I pushed a thick lock of my blue, wavy hair back, which had fallen over my shoulders and was bothering me. The tips of my hair had spiky-like curls, which were cute but annoying sometimes. My hair had this rebellious colour, and also a rebellious behaviour. Friends and family said this is my most notable personality trait, as I was showing that day in that conference room.

"Being of sound mind, the terminal patients in Purple Rock who have fallen prey to this puzzling neurodegenerative illness have chosen a suit over their infected body, Miss Tan," one of the speakers, a young male lawyer with a flawless pearly smile and dressed in a fancy grey suit, replied. "It's an acceptable course of action."

"Don't be condescending, please. It's not acceptable. The small print in the contracts you make them sign is appalling. You force them to become slaves. Is that their true will? Really?" My brows furrowed, adding to the defiance in my voice. My lips curled into a snarl. "You came to Purple Rock from the capital to make money... and make the work we doctors do seem futile."

"Your opinion seems valid, Miss Tan," the neurologist speaker said, a woman with glasses in her late sixties, as she stood up from the long table on the stage to appear more appeasing. It had the opposite effect on me, to be honest. "I am aware that you and your colleagues have put a lot of work into researching a cure, but so far, no good results have been provided. That is why, to clarify any doubts from critics like you, Suit Robotics decided to send its best neurologists, lawyers, and marketing specialists to this conference held here today, in the Faculty of Medicine in Starlight Over The Sea, to help you in this crisis. Lend us your ears for a few more minutes, please."

"Besides, our company wrote those contracts with the patients' and our sponsors' best interests in mind," the layer added. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

I glared at him. Typical lawyer and corporate bullshit. The terms in that small print were despicable.

"Miss Tan, please sit down," said my favourite professor in college, Dr Yang, a balding man in his late fifties and also a renowned pathologist. He sat right beside the lawyer with a serious look on his face. "Do not offend our guests. If you have comments to make, please wait until the end instead of interrupting."

"I won't sit through this bureaucratic bullcrap," I complained further, my voice booming in that enormous conference room. "Suit Robotics pushes its products on terminal patients because they know they're afraid of death. They foster fear, to be more precise. Besides, they're the only company who produces suits." I chuckled. "Making money out of this situation isn't ethical. It should be illegal."

"Our line of business has helped millions of people on planet Sothis over the centuries, Miss Tan," the marketing specialist, a middle-aged woman with greying hair in a bun, replied in a formal tone, unaffected by my defiance. "You need our help. This disease will soon get out of hand. So far, our solution is the only one which has worked."

"My team is close to developing a cure that might work on primates," I said with pride. "We'll enter the testing phase next week. After that, it's a matter of time before we get it for humans—and we'll offer it for free. Suits won't be the only solution on the table anymore."

"I don't think anyone can rely on any promises your team can make, Miss Tan," the neurologist seated beside her added in a calm voice. "The scientific community needs facts—and so far, the facts are appalling. This mysterious pandemic that only affects your colony worries the scientific community beyond what you can imagine."

"If you're indeed worried," I said, glaring at him as I crossed my arms over my chest, "you should come to our hospitals and research labs and help us carry on with the drug tests to develop a potential cure, not backing this multi-billion company and helping them to make more money."

I made a brief pause only to vomit more hatred on them by saying, "Let's face it: you're worried that this pandemic might cross our borders and hit First Landing, the capital... where you all come from." I pointed at them. "The more people you turn into robots here, the better chances you get at not becoming one yourself back home. You might believe you're lucky behind your own terraforming crystal domes, far away from ours, but this disease will spread eventually. People travel all the time."

All the speakers made long faces at my last comment.

"Suit Robotics is entitled to develop and mass produce any scientific and technological achievement that might prove useful in medicine, for the benefit of all humanity," the lawyer said, ignoring my fatalistic comment. "There is no law against such a business endeavour. In addition, the patients are duly informed of the process and the social consequences of becoming a robotic entity, if that's what you're worried about."

"Those are not 'social consequences'; it's accepting to become a slave!" I said. "When patients sign that contract, they are deprived of their freedom. They're taken away from their family and given to wealthy ones in the capital, where they are forced to work night and day to fulfil the whims of their masters—or else you deny them their robotic bodies and don't return them to their human ones. You kill them, sir! That's a crime against humanity." I raise my arms and hands on either side of my shoulders and head with exasperation. "You've created modern slavery!"

With that, I earned a deadly glare from the dean of medicine, seated beside the neurologist. A quick glimpse around me showed me a full room of awkwardly silent colleagues who, despite agreeing with me, didn't dare to raise their voices. They all just sat there with their neat white coats exactly like mine and their downcast gazes.

Well, they should've sucked it up. It was our jobs, our future, and the lives of millions of people I was willing to defend. They should've helped me, but no one did.

"Let's agree to disagree, Miss Tan. No doubt, it's a fertile matter of discussion," the lawyer replied with a condescending smile then.

I chuckled in disbelief.

"Miss Tan!" Dr Ishiguro, a short man in his fifties with a long, curly ponytail, urged me. He was another professor from the faculty I respected and adored. He sat on one extreme of the speakers' table. "Please. Be seated and listen to the full conference. You're being insensitive."

His countenance bore the weight of worry and anger. His brows knit together in a stern furrow, showing his displeasure due to my blatant honesty and lack of courtesy.

"Insensitive? They lack the proper ethics to handle this issue," I replied. Then, I told the entire party of speakers on the stage, "I'll get you legally banned in this colony. And if any of you corporate beasts show up where I work again, in Mercy Hospital, I'll kick your arses until you fly out the nearest window."

The dean slammed a fist on the table. "You will do no such thing." His voice echoed in the conference room like thunder. "You're expelled."

An ominous silence reigned in the conference room.

"What?" My eyes went open wide. "You can't kick me out of the conference room just because we disagree. Suits aren't the solution to the pandemic! Finding a cure is! I'll find it and prove you wrong!"

"You don't understand. I'm not kicking you out of the conference room," he added as he stood up, glaring at me. "You have engaged in unprofessional behaviour, Miss Mia Tan. Your internship is revoked. I expel you from the faculty."

"You must be joking," I whispered as blood drained from my face.

His features, now redder than ever, contorted with rage even more. He said in a roar, "Do I sound like I'm joking? OUT!"

"Dad, I'm home!" I said, carrying a big cardboard box. I closed the front door with my butt.

I rushed to the living room. My father, Jun Tan, sat on the couch, reading on his tablet while wrinkles formed on either side of his brown eyes.

"You won't believe what happened to me today," I said in a frustrated voice as I left the enormous cardboard box on the floor with a grunt. "Humiliating!"

"What was?" he asked as I sat across from him.

"Suit Robotics sent delegates to brainwash the faculty." I sank my elbows on my knees with my legs parted. I leaned forward, resting my head on my palms. "I was in the conference room while they vomited their bureaucratic shit onto us. They justified their malevolent actions and sugar-coated them with their valiant efforts to save us from the pandemic," I said with sarcasm and mild sadness. "But when I confronted them, they lied and gave me condescending smiles. Dr Ishiguro and the dean glared at me. Can you believe that?"

"Your reputation as a straight-shooter precedes you." He left the tablet on the coffee table between us. His dark brown eyes focused on mine.

I chuckled and smiled. "Being honest isn't a flaw."

He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. He looked straight at me in the eyes and said, "It is when you're insensitive."

I rolled my eyes. "They're idiots. We need a cure for this illness, not suits."

He sighed. "We've talked about this. Suit Robotics is a corporate giant. They've been in business way before humans mastered the speed of light and landed on this planet in 2202. They know what they're doing."

"Oh, yes," I replied in a playful voice. "They know how to become even richer."

"Drop the sarcasm, Mia," he replied in a weary tone as he ran a hand through his greying short hair. "The way I understand it, this 'modern slavery' you insist on calling it, is a way of paying for the suits. They're far too expensive for the middle and lower class to afford."

"So, the rich folk pay," I said as I sat up, "and the only thing you need to do is spend the rest of your existence working 24/7 as a servant for their family, who owns your arse." The offence was palpable in my voice as I stared at him. "No, thanks. I'd rather die."

"People trade." He was being so casual it made my blood boil. "Besides, patients are fully informed. They do it willingly."

"Wow. I didn't know freedom was for sale. Can I buy yours so that I can have twice as much?" I smiled with a fake smile.

My father rolled his eyes at me and clasped his hands.

I sighed. "Dad, I get it." My voice became serious. "Too many patients die. People suffer. It's okay to be afraid of this shit, even to fear death. But I don't get why they trade their freedom for a life that's not worth living."

"I understand, but-" He unclasped his hands, showing me his palms, hesitating.

"But what? Humanity is devaluating itself." I frowned.

"Well, ever since the government passed the Water Management Act, restricting access to water, I've seen families suffer in more ways than one. We're slowly devaluating ourselves on many levels."

I slammed my hands on the couch on either side of me. "Our city boasts a state-of-the-art desalination plant, but we, the common people, don't get much of it. The government might as well let us die of thirst. Living right next to the sea..." I chuckled. "It's ironic, isn't it?"

My father shrugged his broad shoulders.

"But it's insane that we need to request a permit every month to account for the quantity of water to do the laundry, wash the dishes, or get a shower!" I complained. "This government is asphyxiating."

His eyes travelled to a distant point in the living room, unfocused. "That reminds me we need to pay a fine. We exceeded last month's allotted quantity." He leaned back and absent-mindedly tapped his knee.

"Damn," I whispered.

"Robots don't pay fines, by the way," he said as he got up, with some difficulty or weariness, might I add. "Want some tea?"

"Or taxes, or food, or anything." I smirked as I nodded. "Becoming a suit is a tempting way out of poverty."

"If you believe people need a cure, then find it... and soon." His voice went severe but enthusiastic. "I'm sure you'll soon find the answer you're looking for in the research lab in Mercy Hospital, my sugar cube. Don't worry."

He was midway to the kitchen when I said, "About that..." I smiled with my trademark oopsie grin.

My father raised an eyebrow as he stopped walking. He turned to me.

"I got kicked out of the faculty," I admitted, my heart breaking.

"What?!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide open. "I was wondering what that cardboard box was. Are those your things from your office?"

"Yeah. The dean was angry at me. He revoked my internship and expelled me," I confessed in mild shame.

"But then... you won't be able to postgraduate! I'm gonna call him and sort this out." He grabbed his smartphone with a shaky hand.

"You might've been friends since college, but that won't slot me back in."

"What did you do?" he whispered, intrigued.

"I accused Suit Robotics of crimes against humanity. I threatened any of them who would dare to come by Mercy Hospital to kick them out the nearest window if any approached any patient." I clasped my hands together as I leaned on my thighs again.

"Mia..." He dropped his shoulders.

"I got into this mess, and I'll get out of it." I sighed and looked at the tablet. "So, what's that you were reading?"

He rushed to get it, but I grabbed it first. "It's nothing, really."

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets when I exclaimed with ire, "The Suit Robotics web? Perks and special features?" I looked back at him. "What's the meaning of this?"

"I was planning on telling you as soon as possible, but-" He struggled to find the right words. "I couldn't find the right time. I'm sorry, my sugar cube."

My fingers lost strength on the device I was holding. "Sorry about what? Don't tell me that–" I whispered, going pale.

"I started showing symptoms last month," he whispered. His eyes went cloudy. "Brief tremor fits, some trouble swallowing, losing the sense of smell for some hours a day, and some difficulty moving around because my limbs feel too weak, especially when I need to get up."

"And you're already considering getting a suit?!" I carelessly left the tablet back on the coffee table with a loud clunk. "You're not yet terminal! You might still have a year or more ahead of you!"

"I'm considering my options." He used that warning voice he used to tell me off.

I clenched my jaw, appalled. "I don't want you to lose your humanity and your freedom."

He started to breathe deeply, unable to meet my gaze.

"I would never see you again," I whispered in a broken voice.

"I love you, my sugar cube," he whispered back, tenderly. "But I..."

We locked our gazes in silence.

I was not going to let my father get a suit and become a slave to those people! Never! If I had to deprive myself of sleeping and live 24/7 in the lab from then on, testing one substance after the next, then so be it. My team would back me despite me getting kicked out.

"Let's seal a deal." I repressed a sob and said with determination, "I will find a cure no matter what."

"You've been kicked out, remember?" he whispered with dread.

"I said I will find a cure no matter what..." I insisted, my clenched fists trembling, "or how far I need to go. I might've been kicked out of the faculty, but that won't stop me. If my Mercy Hospital doesn't want me around, and my team doesn't have my back, then... I guess that the other colonies might accept me. I'll work hard; I swear! In the meantime, you will wait for me and prove these corporate bastards wrong."

"But if you're late to get a cure, I might die..." he said, "or choose a suit despite your wishes."

Blood drained from my face even more. Mom died when I was a one-year-old baby. I had no siblings, no uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents... There was only the two of us. What would become of my family if my father died? Who would chide me for my stupid big mouth and centre me when I need it?

"Give me a year," I begged, whispering in a shaky voice.

"I don't know how fast the illness will progress in my case. I'd love to see you before I die or..." He sighed. "I give you six months. Not one day more."

I nodded, accepting the deal begrudgingly.

I would find a cure, no matter what stood in my way.

Hello, my sugar cubes!

Will Mia be able to find a cure and save her father in time?

Stay tuned! 😉

XOXO

Mar