The name —the flagship algorithm behind FTAV‑004—had become a punchline among the veteran staff. “It’s just another gadget that will make us obsolete,” grumbled Pak Hendra, the night shift supervisor. Yet, for Rina , a fresh‑out of‑college nursing graduate who had just started her first placement, the promise of a safety net was the only thing keeping her from trembling in the dark. Chapter 1 – First Shift, First Shock It was a humid Tuesday night, the monsoon rain drummed against the window panes, and the Emergency Department was a whirl of sirens, cries, and the metallic scent of antiseptic. Rina was assigned a single patient: Pak Yusuf , a 68‑year‑old man with a massive, ulcerated “Berdada Besar” —a rare, aggressive skin tumor that had begun to bleed profusely.
Rina stood at the entrance of , watching a new batch of amateur nurses—still trembling, still nervous—log into FTAV‑004 for the first time. She smiled, remembering her own shaky start. As the tablet greeted them with a warm, “Selamat datang,” she whispered to herself: “In the age of algorithms, the heart of nursing still beats in us. The FTAV‑004 is just the stethoscope that lets us hear it louder.” And somewhere, hidden in the code of Berdada Besar Yu Sasamoto , a line of poetry pulsed silently: “When data guides the hand, the soul still guides the heart.” Chapter 1 – First Shift, First Shock It
He scoffed, but the that followed—signaling the tablet’s confirmation—was impossible to ignore. Chapter 3 – The Storm Within Two hours later, Yusuf’s wound began to ooze a dark, clotted blood. The tablet’s “Live Wound Monitoring” feature, using a tiny infrared sensor embedded in the dressing, detected a sudden rise in hemoglobin concentration at the wound edge. “ALERT: Hemorrhage detected – 45 ml loss in 5 min. Increase compression to 35 mmHg.” Rina’s fingers flew to the slider. As the pressure rose, the tablet displayed a real‑time graph of blood loss, slowly flattening. The AI also suggested a bolus of 250 ml normal saline and a re‑dose of ceftriaxone , both confirmed with a single tap. She smiled, remembering her own shaky start
Rina looked at the tablet. Sasamoto displayed a gentle message: “Great job, Rina. You’ve prevented a critical blood loss event. Keep monitoring for 30 minutes.” At 02:30 a.m., Yusuf’s eyes fluttered open. “Terima kasih,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but grateful. Rina placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the warm pulse through the bandage. The AI had guided her, but the human connection—her gentle voice, the soft brush of her fingers—was what truly calmed him. She tapped the button
The attending physician, Dr. Arif, gave a terse rundown: “Yusuf needs wound debridement, IV antibiotics, and constant monitoring. The tumor’s size makes dressing changes a nightmare. Keep his vitals stable; any sign of sepsis, call me immediately.” Rina’s hands shook as she prepared the sterile tray. The FTAV‑004 tablet lay on the cart, its screen glowing a cool blue. She tapped the button, typed in the basics, and waited for the algorithm to load the custom protocol for “Large Dermatologic Lesion – High Bleed Risk”.
Prologue – The Rumor in the Ward In the cramped, fluorescent‑lit hallway of Ruang Rawat 4 at Jakarta’s oldest public hospital, a whisper spread faster than the morning’s gossip about a new service: FTAV‑004 “Service Terbaik Perawat Amatir” . It was billed as an AI‑assisted platform that paired inexperienced (but eager) nursing volunteers with senior mentors, offering real‑time guidance, dosage checks, and emergency protocols—all through a sleek tablet interface.