[Runesmith]

Dead patients certainly took up more time than living ones. Lynn wearily shuffled out of the ICU room, avoiding the family huddled outside (that was someone else's responsibility, thank god), looking for an empty EMR workstation to sit down and chart the failed resuscitation effort. The hospital management expected nurses to not only assist in resuscitating patients, while jumping at every order the physicians yell (brandishing charged defibrillator paddles, like idiots), but also remember every jab and shock given during the chaotic few minutes, including the exact times they were given, and chart all of that in to the electronic medical record once done.

Their recently-installed, cutting edge, fifty thousand dollar patient monitors (which had part of the word "intelligent" in their model name, probably added by some overpaid marketing guy with a bloated ego) only sent vital signs (which, during a code would look like - heart rate = 0, breaths per minute = 0, blood pressure = 0/0, Pulse Ox = 85... big surprise) to the EMR. An underpaid and over-worked nurse had to remember everything else and key them in to a bloody computer. For that kind of money those monitors should have something like Alexa built-in that would understand everything being yelled out during a code, and automatically chart in to the EMR, like they do with vital signs, she reflected. Lynn was clearly in the wrong job - she should have the job of that marketing guy.

However, Lynn had an ace up her sleeve. Whenever she ran to attend a code blue, she would switch on the audio recording on her phone and put it in her scrubs pocket. Recording anything without permission in a hospital was a big no-no, and she could face disciplinary action if found out, but that was a risk she was willing to take. She could listen to the recording afterwards and chart the meds without missing anything.

Before she could locate a quiet alcove where no one would notice the earphones, she heard a booming voice yell out, "Lynette!" It was Melissa, the unit secretary - an ancient and irritating hag who made it a point to get everyone's name slightly wrong. "While you were busy, you got a fancy gift box delivered. By some fancy courier, none the less. I left it in the pantry. So you got a boyfriend now?" she announced to the whole world.

"Thanks, I'll get it later," Lynn answered, heading to the other end of the ward. No, she didn't have a boyfriend, but had no desire to discuss that with the woman that most nurses called Melisandre, after the red witch in Game of Thrones - in reference to the witch's appearance after taking off the necklace.

Most nurses actually found boyfriends to be a burden (unless they were also nurses). After a grueling shift, all you wanted to do when you got home was to fall down on the bed and sleep... then eat... maybe masturbate, then sleep again (and then wake up and go back to work). Boyfriends needed constant attention, and most guys seemed to think of nurses as the bimbos depicted in their favourite porn movies - always horny, ready, and creative. With her 8th year in critical care nursing, Lynn had settled down to the tried and tested one-night-stand-on-your-day-off strategy. The box must be an early birthday present from her sister... although, why would her sister send it to the hospital instead of to the apartment?

She almost forgot to take the box when she left. It was small, light, a perfect cube wrapped in shiny purple foil, adorned with a pink ribbon, and no card. There was no rattle when she shook it. It maybe just an elaborate prank, an empty box with nothing inside... but even as a prank, who would spend money to deliver an empty box by courier? And what was the point anyway?

When she finally got home, she fell asleep with the box still unopened on her bedside table. After she woke up, and after a slapped-together sandwich and the cursory masturbation, she remembered the box.

It was packed full of styroform beads that immediately spilled out and clung to everything. Nestled inside was a smaller box that looked like the boxes that engagement rings came in. When she opened it, Lynn found a small USB stick instead of jewellery that she thought it might contain.

Her curiosity aroused, Lynn booted up her laptop and plugged the stick in. Inside the stick were six video files, numbered 1 to 6. She clicked on the first, and after the customary annoying spinning wheels that software engineers loved to add just to piss off people, the video started to play. It started with a black background, with the song "Pour some sugar on me" by Def Leppard - one of her favourite 80's songs. The words "Happy Birthday" appeared letter by letter as a cute little unicorn hopped across the screen. The video ended with a "Play Next?" message on the screen.

Lynn clicked on the second. It started with the same song, but it sounded like the song was not a sound track, but was coming from a radio in the background of a video recording. When she recognized the video, Lynn's blood froze in her veins.