Just in Time

The notification buzzed on Mia’s wrist, sharp and insistent. She glanced at her smartwatch: Oxygen Saturation: 82%. Emergency Protocol Initiated. Her vision blurred as she slumped against the kitchen counter, the clatter of a dropped mug fading into a dull roar. She’d known the risks—family history of strokes, a ticking time bomb in her arteries—but she never thought it’d hit so soon.


The watch beeped again, and a tiny prick stung her wrist. She barely registered it as the injectable kicked in. A flood of coolness spread through her veins, not like blood, but something lighter, sharper. The watch’s screen glowed: OxyLiquid Deployed. Seek Medical Attention Immediately. Her breathing steadied, the fog in her mind lifting just enough to stumble to her phone and dial 911.


OxyLiquid wasn’t magic—it was science, the kind her brother, a bioengineer, had raved about when it hit the market. “Thousands of times more oxygen than red blood cells,” he’d said, grinning. “Slips past blockages like they’re nothing. Keeps you alive when you should be dead.” She’d laughed it off then, but now, as her heart thudded unevenly, she owed her next breath to it.


The paramedics found her conscious, impossibly alert despite the clot choking her brain’s blood supply. “You’ve got hours,” one said, eyeing her watch. “This stuff’s a game-changer.” They rushed her to the hospital, where the filtering suite awaited—a hulking machine that would sieve the synthetic liquid from her system, leaving her human again. Without it, the OxyLiquid would eventually gum up her organs, a savior turned poison.


In the ER, as the machine hummed and her blood ran through tubes, Mia watched the clock. Three hours past when her brain should’ve shut down. The doctor, a brisk woman with a tablet, nodded at her wrist. “That watch bought you time. Old days, you’d be gone by now.”


Mia exhaled, shaky but alive. “Worth every penny,” she muttered, already dreading the bill—and the call to her brother to say thanks.