“Accident” Compensation
Old Li sat on a bench in the hospital corridor, a newly printed insurance claim list resting on his leg. The numbers on the list were like cold, hard nails, piercing his heart. Six days ago, he was riding his old bicycle when a car making a sharp turn at an intersection knocked him flying. Old Li lay on the ground for ten minutes, felt his head, and since he could still move, he got up and walked away, pushing his bicycle.
Six days later, he sat outside the emergency room, waiting for the doctor to announce his death. Of course, it was an "impending" death.
These six days, he felt like he was dreaming every day. During the day, he went to the morning market to sell vegetables as usual, and at night, he still did his accounts under the dim light. He even rewarded his grandson with a new pair of sneakers for getting first place in his class in the final exams.
Then, he found that he could see the TV programs of Old Wang next door through the wall, he could hear the neighbors arguing, he could feel the neighbor's cat rubbing against his leg, even though the cat hadn't actually touched him. He tried to say hello to them, but no one paid him any attention.
"You are currently in a, uh, state between life and death," the young doctor who had examined him last time told him when he returned to the hospital. "Your bodily functions have ceased, but your consciousness still exists, like—" the doctor scratched his head, "like a computer crash, the system is still running, but the screen is black."
It took Old Li half a day to understand this analogy, even though he had never touched a computer.
He wanted to go home, wanted to tell his old wife that he had become a "crashed computer." But he knew that he could not do anything now. He could only stay in the hospital, waiting for the "final reboot."
The lawyer arrived today, a man with wire-rimmed glasses and perfectly combed hair. He took out a contract and pointed to the clauses, speaking rapidly. "Mr. Li, according to the insurance company's terms, direct deaths caused by traffic accidents are compensable. However, your situation is rather special. You died six days after the accident, and medically, it cannot be directly determined that the death was caused by the traffic accident, so—"
Old Li interrupted him, "So, I died for nothing these six days?"
The lawyer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and said in a flat tone, "No, we are actively trying. According to the latest notice from the insurance company, if Mr. Li can prove that during these six days, his quality of life significantly declined due to this accident, he can receive some compensation."
Old Li was a little confused, "I...I'm already like this, how can I prove it?"
The lawyer smiled and took a form out of his briefcase. "It's simple, you only need to fill out this 'Quality of Life Decline Assessment Form', including: diet, sleep, social interaction, mobility, mood, etc. Each item has a clear scoring standard."
Old Li took the form blankly, which was filled with dense lines and boxes. He looked at the first item: "Diet: What was your food intake in these six days? A. Normal, B. Slightly decreased, C. Completely unable to eat."
He sighed and picked up the pen, struggling to write: C. Because he no longer needed to eat.
The next items gave him more headaches. He had no social activities at all, his mobility was limited to floating around the hospital corridor, and as for his mood, he felt quite calm. After all, he had witnessed many strange things these past few days.
The lawyer looked at the form Old Li had filled out and nodded with satisfaction. "It seems we have a good chance of securing the highest compensation."
"The highest compensation?" Old Li asked back, "Can it bring me back to life?"
The lawyer coughed awkwardly. "We have done our best to secure the maximum benefit for you within the legal framework. Moreover, your family will also benefit from this."
Old Li looked at the hospital ceiling, where words seemed to appear: "Severe decline in quality of life due to traffic accident, unable to eat normally, unable to engage in social activities, unable to perform normal activities, extremely low mood, classified as a severe disability, meeting the highest compensation standard."
He suddenly laughed, the laughter growing louder and echoing in the empty corridor. The lawyer was startled and asked cautiously, "Mr. Li, are you...are you alright?"
Old Li pointed to his chest, where it was hollow and empty, "It's okay, I just think this whole thing is so ridiculous."
Then, in the lawyer's horrified gaze, Old Li "disappeared." He didn't actually die; he just finished his last role in this absurd drama. He became a symbol of the "highest compensation standard," a meaningless number calculated precisely by social rules.