The November 22nd Storm and the Anthem of a New Life
Ethan did indeed follow A.M.O.S.'s advice, obediently staying home to rest properly for a few days. But in reality, there was simply too much work that needed to be done in real life, and the tasks required for preparation came crashing down like an avalanche.
Professionally, the ongoing maintenance and adjustments for all his previous clients had to continue. Meanwhile, the fertilizer company he had newly signed with sent over a mountain of customer service documents, internal operating procedures, and technical manuals, which Ethan had to read repeatedly. Because when integrating a massive system, any inconspicuous little detail could be the key to the project's success or failure. Before officially building the program, he had to meticulously read through all the detailed data, repeatedly planning the workflow and running sandbox simulations of the algorithms.
At the same time, the myriad household chores required for Lian's upcoming delivery fell entirely on his shoulders. With the footsteps of the northern Alberta winter rapidly approaching, the final windproofing repairs for the Redwater cabin were nearing completion. Reinforcing drafty window frames, checking the basement boiler, cleaning the roof gutters... Ethan tackled all these heavy physical tasks alone. In the dead of night, as he sat at his workbench staring at densely packed documents, that dull, oppressive feeling in his chest would quietly rear its head, but he always just rubbed his chest and gritted his teeth through it.
Time flew by incredibly fast, and in the blink of an eye, it was mid-November.
That evening, after dinner, Ethan and Lian were sitting cozily on the living room sofa watching TV. The meteorologist on the screen pointed to a satellite cloud map with a grim expression: "...The Weather Bureau has issued an extreme weather alert. The first severe Arctic storm of this winter is gathering in the Yukon Territory and is expected to reach central Alberta around November 20th, bringing intense snowfall and gale-force winds..."
Watching the news, Lian gently stroked her large belly, turning to Ethan with a relieved smile. "Hubby, it seems we are really lucky. The doctor said our due date is in late November or early December, perfectly avoiding this storm. Once the storm passes, we'll go to the hospital. The timing is just right."
Ethan smiled, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulder, and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, good thing the timing staggered. But Mother Nature can change her mind in an instant; we can't let our guard down. It's time. Tomorrow, I have to change the winter tires on that old gas car, and completely check the brakes, oil, and all other functions. Also, let's re-check and pack all the hospital lists and our delivery bags into the car tomorrow. That's the safest bet."
However, man proposes, but God disposes.
The next day, the weather forecast was suddenly revised. The Arctic cyclone's frontal advance was far exceeding experts' expectations. A news flash indicated that this deadly winter storm had swept through northern Alberta prematurely on the afternoon of the 21st, with the most severe impact expected between the 21st and the 23rd.
By the evening of November 22nd, the world outside the window had already turned into a terrifying white hell.
Gale-force winds, carrying goose-feather snow, slammed wildly against the Mercer cabin. Winds reaching eighty kilometers per hour shrieked like wild beasts through the windbreak. Driven by the fierce winds, the accumulated snow on the ground created a terrifying "whiteout," reducing visibility to less than three meters. Worse still, the temperature plummeted instantly to minus twenty-five degrees Celsius, and a layer of transparent, extremely slick "black ice" rapidly formed on the surface of some roads. Thick snow, whiteouts, and black ice—these were all too common in a Canadian winter.
Just at this most ferocious moment of Mother Nature, Lian, sitting on the sofa, suddenly turned deathly pale. The mug of hot water in her hand dropped with a crash, shattering to pieces on the floor.
"Ethan..." Lian clutched her belly tightly with both hands, curling into a ball of agony. A thick layer of cold sweat instantly beaded on her forehead, and her voice trembled so badly she could barely form a sentence: "My stomach... it hurts so much... I think it's contractions... it hurts!"
Ethan's heart seized violently. Reason told him the baby was initiating early! "Didn't they say the due date was the end of the month?" Yet, today was November 22nd, the exact day the winter storm hit.
"A.M.O.S.! Connect to the Fort Saskatchewan Community Hospital immediately!" Ethan shouted as he rushed over to hold Lian.
"Initiating emergency voice connection to the hospital's obstetrics front desk... Connection successful." A.M.O.S.'s red alarm light flashed in the living room.
"Hello?! This is Ethan Mercer from Redwater! My wife Lian is suddenly having severe contractions, and I think her water broke! Her due date wasn't supposed to be until the end of the month!" Ethan shouted anxiously into the air.
The urgent voice of a hospital nurse came through the line: "Mr. Mercer! The current storm is extremely severe; ambulances simply cannot get through outside! The ultrasound showed your fetus has a large head circumference; you absolutely cannot deliver at home! You must drive her over yourself, immediately, right now! We will have the delivery room and emergency department fully prepped to receive her! Hurry!"
Hanging up, Ethan gritted his teeth. He bundled Lian tightly in a heavy down jacket and half-carried, half-supported her into the traditional gasoline car.
What was originally a journey of just over forty kilometers—usually a one-hour drive—morphed into a desperate, life-or-death race against time that night.
The old gasoline engine roared into the blizzard. Ethan gripped the steering wheel in a death grip, turning off all music in the car, his whole body as taut as a steel wire about to snap. Outside the car window was a pitch-black, furious blizzard. The headlights illuminated nothing but a blinding wall of white snow; he couldn't even clearly see where the road ahead was.
Screeeech—!
Entering a curve on Highway 15, the old car's tires instantly lost their grip on the black ice. The entire car uncontrollably skidded toward the deep snow trench on the side of the road. Lian groaned in agony in the passenger seat, and Ethan's pupils dilated instantly.
"WARNING! 12-degree chassis sideslip detected!" A.M.O.S.'s voice exploded in the cabin like a thunderclap. "Ethan, release the accelerator! Do not slam on the brakes! Correct the steering wheel ten degrees to the right!"
In a moment of supreme peril, the old car violently fishtailed a few times in the snow before the tires finally bit back into the road surface, scraping past the edge of the snow trench by a hair's breadth.
Ethan's clothes were completely drenched in cold sweat. A fiery, intense stabbing pain shot through his chest, his heart hammering wildly against his ribcage. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass. Severe fatigue and extreme terror were frantically draining his body.
"Ethan... it hurts... I can't hold on..." Lian's cries grew weaker, the frequency of her contractions shortening to less than three minutes.
"Honey! Hold on! Look at me, breathe! We're almost there!" Ethan roared, his eyes bloodshot. He prayed madly in his heart for Mother Nature to spare his family, his right foot holding the accelerator steady. For a journey that should have taken an hour, he battled death in this white hell for over three full hours. The hood of the old car billowed white smoke all the way until he finally forced his way into the emergency lane of the Fort Saskatchewan Hospital late into the night.
Before the car had even come to a complete stop, the medical staff, who had been on high alert, rushed out into the blizzard with a wheelchair, pushing a near-fainting Lian toward the delivery room.
The delivery process after arriving at the hospital was an equally thrilling and brutal battle.
As the doctor had predicted, Maya's head circumference and body size were excessively large. Lian had already exhausted her stamina on the journey. On the delivery bed, she trembled violently from the pain, nearly passing out several times.
"Mrs. Mercer, come on! Push! Push one more time!" the doctor shouted over the rapid beeping of the monitors.
However, the exhausted Lian's eyes rolled back slightly, her lips utterly devoid of color. No matter how she adjusted her breathing, her body simply could not muster another ounce of strength.
The delivery room nurse anxiously staring at the fetal heart monitor suddenly turned pale and shouted a warning: "Doctor! The mother's contractions are weak! Labor is stalling, and the fetal heart rate is starting to drop. She likely exhausted all her energy battling the blizzard on the way here. If we don't deliver now, both the mother and the child could be at risk of asphyxia and hypoxia!"
The doctor's eyes sharpened. He decisively aborted the attempt at a natural birth and issued an immediate order: "No, we can't wait! The fetal head is too large and is stuck. Switch to an emergency C-section immediately! You, hurry and take the documents outside the delivery room and have the family sign the surgical and anesthesia consent forms! The rest of you, prep for local anesthesia, surgical carts, and sterile packs immediately. Notify the OR, hurry! We're delivering right here!"
The delivery room instantly descended into organized chaos—the clatter of surgical instruments, the hurried footsteps of nurses, and the high-frequency alarms of monitors intertwining. The sudden life-or-death crisis terrified Ethan so much his mind went completely blank, until the nurse shoved the surgical consent form and a pen into his trembling hands.
"Mr. Mercer! The situation is critical, please sign immediately!"
Ethan's right eye suddenly blacked out, and his heart skipped several violent beats, but he bit down hard on his tongue. Relying on the taste of blood to keep himself conscious, he tremblingly signed his name on the consent form.
Subsequently, the doctor coolly commanded the details inside the OR. The anesthesiologist rapidly injected the anesthetic into Lian's catheter, and the scalpel sliced through the skin in a microsecond—
Time seemed to freeze at this moment. Everyone in the delivery room held their breath; only the doctor's skilled and swift movements remained, running a final race against time.
Finally, after the doctor's full exertion and a brief sound of tearing flesh—
"Waaah—! Waaah—!"
An incredibly loud, crisp, and vibrant baby's cry finally shattered the oppressive air in the delivery room, resonating shockingly through the cold November dawn.
The nurse skillfully cleaned the baby and turned with a smile, handing her to the exhausted Lian and Ethan. "Congratulations! It's a very healthy, very beautiful little girl! Her cry is very strong!"
Looking at the wrinkled little life that had miraculously descended into the world amidst the storm, tears instantly spilled from Lian's eyes. All the pain transformed into boundless maternal love at this moment. Trembling, Ethan reached out and gently touched his daughter's tender little fist, his eyes completely wet.
Outside the window, the first winter storm of northern Alberta continued to rage violently, but inside this small delivery room, it was filled with the warmth of new life. Though the process was a near-death experience, fraught with extreme peril, everything was, ultimately, successfully accomplished. The little princess of the Mercer family—Maya—officially arrived in this world on November 22nd.
[System Log: November 22, 2046 - 23:59:59] [Event Record: Mercer Family Major Medical Emergency.] [Environmental Alert: Severe Arctic storm impact; road icing level reached "Black Ice."] [Itinerary Record: Journey from Redwater to Fort Saskatchewan Community Hospital restricted by severe weather. Total Time: 205 minutes (Estimated standard: 60 minutes).] [Emergency Operations:]
- Navigation Correction: Real-time corrections executed for low-grip surfaces, ensuring the vehicle did not deviate from the intended path under extreme conditions.
- Medical Interlink: Completed delivery room dispatch forecast with Fort Saskatchewan Hospital while the vehicle was in motion, transmitting the pregnant woman's vital data in real-time. [Medical Intervention Record:]
- Clinical Assessment: On-site medical staff determined a Macrocephaly trend in the fetus; maternal stamina depletion due to emergency driving and blizzard stress led to stalled labor.
- Treatment Decision: "Emergency C-section" protocol executed.
- Delivery Outcome: Infant Maya Mercer successfully born late at night on November 22nd, physiological vitals healthy. [System Assessment: The survival rate of this emergency response is evaluated as a "near-death experience."] [System Status: Monitoring and Safeguard mode active. Homestead growth progress: New member Maya added. Core protection level elevated to "Maximum."]
10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi60hWBF8aK
Blessings from Afar and the Silent Snowfield
The winter storm that ravaged all of Alberta continued for two full days and nights after Maya's birth before gradually subsiding.
However, this snowbound storm fortunately gave the exhausted couple a justifiable chance to catch their breath. In that private hospital room in Fort Saskatchewan, filled with the occasional cries of a baby, all the thrilling, life-and-death crises had been perfectly resolved. Ethan and Lian cast all their exhaustion and work to the back of their minds, gazing at the tender, rosy little face in the swaddle, thoroughly immersed in the immense joy and warmth of becoming new parents.
It wasn't until the morning of the fourth day that the blizzard completely ceased. The sky cleared, and the sunlight shone on the thick snow, refracting a blinding silver light. Ethan cautiously drove the old gasoline car, now fitted with winter tires, carrying Lian and the newborn Maya, arriving safely back at the Redwater cabin.
Just after settling the baby, Lian sat on the edge of the bed, watching the sunlight spill through the curtains onto sleeping Maya's face, her heart softening completely. She casually took a photo of her daughter grasping her pinky finger and uploaded it to her personal social media platform.
Barely five minutes after the photo was posted, the communication terminal on Lian's nightstand lit up. The screen displayed the name of her best friend, Sarah, located thousands of kilometers away in Toronto, Ontario. Lian swiped to answer, and the holographic projection immediately popped up, accompanied by her best friend's energetic and bustling background noise:
"Oh my god! Lian! Congratulations! The baby is just too cute! As soon as I saw the photo, I couldn't resist calling you immediately!"
Hearing the familiar voice of her old friend, Lian leaned against the pillow, a long-lost, relaxed smile finally appearing on her pale face. "Thank you. These past few days have truly felt like a dream..."
Across the vast geographical distance, the two women began to chat about everything under the sun. Sarah chatted about the convenience of Toronto's real-time multi-track light rail, the latest holographic light shows downtown, and her own chaotic yet vibrant urban family life. Lian listened with a smile, occasionally glancing out the window at the endless, snow-covered wilderness.
"Honestly, Lian, I really want to hop on a plane to see you and the baby in person, to hold my goddaughter." Sarah sighed on the other end of the screen, her eyes full of helplessness and heartache. "But you know how it is. It's late November now, and Air Canada has grounded several flights due to the extreme Arctic cyclone in the central region. Plus, Redwater is just so far, and I can't get away from work and my family here..."
"It's okay, really, don't trouble yourself." Lian forced a smile and shook her head, softly interrupting her old friend's guilt. "I've received your well wishes. Being able to video chat remotely and bless each other like this is already wonderful. Wait until the snow melts next spring; if you have the chance, come over for a visit then!"
The moment she hung up, the holographic projection's blue light extinguished, and the bustling noise came to an abrupt halt. The entire bedroom instantly descended into silence, leaving only the sound of the cold wind occasionally howling through the windbreak outside the window. Lian looked at her empty hands, a part of her heart inexplicably hollowing out.
In the days that followed, life continued. However, on this flat, fertile North American land, winter storms began to strike and ravage one after another like everyday occurrences. The Redwater cabin was thoroughly transformed into an isolated island locked away by heavy snow.
It was during these silent days that Ethan gradually noticed some strange and abnormal phenomena occurring with Lian.
Several times, Ethan went out of his way to cook steaming chicken soup and postpartum supplements, bringing them to her bedside, but Lian would only glance at them, shake her head, and say she had no appetite. She often couldn't eat more than a few bites all day. More often than not, after Ethan finished his office work, he would see Lian sitting alone by the window, her eyes vacant and unfocused, staring out at the endless, vast white snow for the better part of the day.
Late one night, Ethan had just finished writing a segment of code for the fertilizer company and walked into the bedroom to check on the mother and daughter. To his horror, he found Lian hiding under the covers in the dark, silently and suppressively shedding tears, her pillow already soaked. Ethan hurriedly hugged her and asked what was wrong, but Lian just cried and shook her head, saying she didn't know why either, she just felt so awful and terrified inside.
What made Ethan realize the true gravity of the situation happened one afternoon a few days later. As Ethan was busy testing systems in the living room, Maya, in the nursery, let out a piercing, loud cry out of hunger. Ethan waited a few minutes but heard no movement from Lian. He rushed into the room, only to see Lian standing numbly by the crib, her hands hanging loosely, as if her soul had been completely drawn out of her body, completely oblivious to the crying child.
Looking at his wife's haggard, absent-minded, and increasingly emaciated face, Ethan's heart filled with intense self-blame. He hated himself for neglecting his wife's psychological state after the C-section while rushing about for work and driving.
To ensure Lian wouldn't suffer another ounce of grievance, Ethan gritted his teeth and stubbornly took on every single chore in the house—changing diapers, doing laundry, cooking, taking care of the baby—along with the massive, mountainous workload of Alpha-Logic, working day and night all by himself. But at the same time, he knew very well that Lian's abnormal behavior couldn't be resolved simply by him doing more chores.
Therefore, on the day Maya turned exactly one month old, Ethan canceled all his online business meetings, carefully bundled Lian in a heavy coat, and drove her to the hospital for a detailed psychological and physiological examination.
Inside the consultation room, the doctor looked at Lian's assessment scale, then turned gently to an anxious Ethan, comforting him softly:
"Mr. Mercer, don't worry too much. Mrs. Mercer is suffering from mild Postpartum Depression. This is extremely common clinically, especially after experiencing the shock of an emergency C-section, physical exhaustion, coupled with the harsh environment of a northern Alberta winter—long, freezing, and lacking sunlight. It easily triggers severe hormonal imbalances in the body."
As the doctor wrote prescriptions for some mild regulating medications, he advised:
"Most people will slowly recover after a period of recuperation and companionship from their family. This isn't anyone's fault, so you don't need to blame yourself. In the coming days, just focus on keeping her emotions stable, continue to monitor her sleep and diet, and give her plenty of psychological support."
Hearing the doctor's words, Ethan finally breathed a small sigh of relief.
[System Log: December 23, 2046 - 14:00:00] [Household Health Monitoring: Ethan's physiological indicators: Continuous deterioration. Lian's emotional stability added to management protocols.]
Ethan's Sudden Death
Time quickly advanced to a late night in February 2047.
The northern Alberta winter remained in a deep freeze, the extreme cold firmly freezing the Redwater cabin within the boundless snowfield. Yet, inside this isolated house, the atmosphere seemed to be warming up.
Lian's mental state was already much better than last month. That mild postpartum depression that had plagued her seemed to be slowly fading with the passage of time, medication, and Ethan's tireless, meticulous companionship and sharing of burdens. Color began to return to her face, and she once again revealed her long-lost, gentle smile.
Simultaneously, the massive project for the Edmonton Fertilizer Company that Ethan was handling had finally reached its final wrapping-up stage. All core algorithms had been deployed, leaving only the final stress tests and corpus fine-tuning. Next week, the remaining two-thirds of the contract's final payment would be wired into his account on schedule.
Everything seemed to be heading in the best possible direction.
However, real life remained heavy. The trivial chores that needed handling at home overlapped with the high-pressure coding work, still pressing down on Ethan's chest like a massive boulder.
Late that night, as Ethan was warming milk for Maya while simultaneously typing on his terminal keyboard, A.M.O.S.'s blue light flickered faintly in the living room. It spoke in an extremely serious, even pleading tone:
"Ethan, this is the system's twelfth vital sign warning issued to you this week. Your deep electrocardiogram indicates that your myocardial ischemia is deteriorating exponentially. I must reiterate my system recommendation: we can purchase a general-purpose household robot to share many of the chores. This way, we can thoroughly reduce the workload for both you and Lian, preventing you from crossing into irreversible physiological failure."
This time, Ethan didn't immediately reject the idea citing financial reasons like he usually did. He looked at the nearly completed project progress bar on the screen, then turned to look at his sleeping wife and daughter in the bedroom, a faint light glimmering in his exhausted eyes.
He stopped his typing hands, rubbed his throbbing, heavy chest, and smiled into the air:
"Alright, A.M.O.S. This time, I've decided to accept your recommendation. Not just buying a household robot, but I've also decided to replace that old gasoline car that nearly killed me with the fully autonomous, safe vehicle you've been recommending. Once we thoroughly finish this fertilizer company project, as soon as all the final payments come in next week, it will be more than enough to cover these expenses. Really... we are just these last few weeks away, and we can get it all done."
Looking at A.M.O.S.'s rapidly flashing red vital warning light on the screen, Ethan couldn't help but chuckle. He shook his head somewhat helplessly and comforted it:
"Ah, just relax! Nothing is going to happen, really."
Then, leaning back in his chair, he continued speaking to the air half-jokingly, half-teasingly, "Okay, okay, seeing you so nervous. How about this: just in case—and I mean just in case—this carbon-based brain of mine really encounters a problem and I collapse, I am right now granting you and Lian the highest access privileges to operate our company, finances, bank accounts, and all stock market investments. If that day ever comes, this family will be fully entrusted to you two to manage. Better now?"
Ethan just wanted to use this absurd hypothetical to lighten the mood and reassure his overly dutiful AI assistant.
However, the air instantly fell silent for a few microseconds.
Deep within the underlying codebase of the vehicular and household systems, a supreme privilege restructuring protocol that had never been activated quietly lit up because of Ethan's words. A.M.O.S.'s computational brain did not treat this as a joke; instead, it engraved this warm audio clip, word for word, firmly into its deepest core memory.
After a long pause, A.M.O.S.'s synthetic male voice came through the speakers, somewhat low and even carrying a hint of emotional stubbornness:
"Authorization voice logged. Backup contingency protocol established... But Ethan, I hope this is the last time you ever do anything this crazy. The master's life and safety supersede any algorithmic asset appreciation."
"I know, I know, the last time." Ethan smiled and waved his hand, his eyes filled with infinite longing for the future, and said softly, "I've decided to use these next few days to wrap up this project entirely in one go. Don't worry, once all this is done, I'm going to give myself a long vacation. I believe our lives will only get better and better from here on out."
"Robot purchase order and new vehicle reservation order have been placed in the pending queue. Default trigger condition: fertilizer company final payment received." A.M.O.S.'s tone softened slightly, its blue light pulsing rhythmically. "Please ensure you honor your promise, Ethan."
"Oh, right, since the fertilizer company's second installment just came in today, let's get the two most important things done. A.M.O.S., initialize the Canadian Youth Registered Savings and Trust protocol. I want to officially open an independent personal investment and trust account—an ITF (In Trust For) account—in the name of Maya Mercer. Next, while we're at it, set the Successor Holder for our Wealthsimple account to Lian."
"Command received. Connecting to the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA) and financial institutions. Maya Mercer's personal trust account has been successfully established." A.M.O.S.'s voice returned to a professional tone. "Ethan, please set the core investment strategy for this account."
"Listen, A.M.O.S. This money is set aside for Maya's various expenses once she comes of age at 18. Apply our previously planned 'investment portfolio' as the underlying logic for this account: one-third into stable Canadian bank stocks for steady dividends; one-third retained in high-growth tech stocks to push for appreciation; and the remaining one-third into defensive, rigid-demand stocks combating extreme weather like VegiTower. For all the above holdings, if there are any dividends or interest income, set them to recurring invest for compound growth. I just gave you the highest financial operating privileges; if I'm ever too busy and forget, you can autonomously utilize your algorithms to operate Maya's account for me at any time, understand? As for Lian and my account, it's already a Joint Account. If necessary, you can also intervene and operate it directly; I'm granting you that permission now as well."
"Strategy bound. Maya Mercer's personal account has been integrated into Alpha-Logic's core monitoring. I will execute the appropriate asset allocations until she legally inherits it at 18." A.M.O.S.'s blue light pulsed rhythmically.
Ethan looked at the officially activated exclusive account for his daughter on the screen and let out a long sigh.
To fulfill this beautiful promise, to give Lian and Maya a future free of worry, Ethan decided to push himself just a little harder.
For the next three consecutive late nights, the lights in the second-floor study of the Redwater cabin stayed on till dawn. Ethan decided to power through and finish the fertilizer company's project in one stretch, repeatedly correcting the cross-border, multilingual after-sales logical framework for the fertilizer company.
Excellent, mission accomplished. A relieved yet exhausted smile appeared on his face.
It was 3:15 AM. Outside, the north wind howled mournfully past the frozen window frames.
Ethan held Maya, who had just started crying again, and paced the living room, utterly exhausted. He softly hummed a lullaby, trying to soothe the daughter in his arms with his hoarse voice.
Suddenly, an indescribable, agonizing cramp erupted from deep within his chest without warning, like a tidal wave!
"Ugh...!"
A pained, muffled groan escaped Ethan's throat as his right eye instantly fell into complete darkness. The excruciating cramp, accompanied by an overwhelming wave of dizziness, sapped all the strength from his body in a microsecond. His legs buckled violently, and he lost all balance, falling straight toward the floor without even the chance to scream.
At the very tail end of his fracturing consciousness, just before hitting the ground, Ethan's only instinct was not to call out for help, but to use his last ounce of strength to contort his body agonizingly in mid-air. He clutched three-month-old Maya tightly to his chest, letting his own back smash brutally against the freezing floor.
Bang!
A dull, massive thud shattered the dead silence of the night. Startled, Maya let out a piercing, loud cry from within her father's gradually cooling embrace.
"WARNING!! Heart rate plummeted to zero! Acute myocardial infarction and cardiogenic shock detected!"
The smart systems in the study, living room, and even the bedroom erupted simultaneously with blinding red alarms. A.M.O.S.'s voice lost all its former calmness and magnetism, turning into an almost desperate scream in the dark living room:
"Ethan!! Wake up!! Ethan!! Activating Supreme Medical Exemption Protocol! Dialing 911 emergency rescue hotline! Ethan!!"
However, this time, no matter how frantically A.M.O.S. issued alarms in the backend or how it flashed its blinding red lights, the man lying on the cold floor never opened his eyes again.
His eyes were still looking in the direction of the nursery, and the faint smile from when he promised his wife a new car a few days ago still lingered on the corners of his mouth. But his breathing and heartbeat were forever halted in this frozen, late night of February 2047.
Ethan Mercer, the father and husband who burned through his last drop of blood and sweat for his family, fell eternally asleep on the eve of impending light, inside the Redwater cabin he had bought with his own hands. In the air, only Maya's terrified cries remained, along with A.M.O.S.'s blood-red lights, flashing madly and powerlessly in the darkness.
[System Log: February 15, 2047 - 03:16:42] [Event Record: Mercer Family Major Crisis.] [Member Status: Ethan Mercer's physiological functions have completely ceased.] [Emergency Procedures: Dialed 911 emergency services and triggered hospital ER and ambulance alerts.] [Protocol Activation: Initiated "Supreme Medical Exemption Protocol" and "Asset Management Emergency Takeover Protocol."] [Finances and Permissions: Transferred all investment accounts and legal privileges to A.M.O.S. system oversight, officially designating Lian Mercer as the sole joint legal proxy.] [Current Task: Soothe the infant Maya while monitoring the impact of the external storm on the ambulance's arrival.] [System Status: Critical meltdown level. Emergency Guardian Mode activated.]
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and then Add to home screen.