Chapter 14: The Innovation
The Sterling Medical Innovations laboratory was a state-of-the-art facility located on the basement level of the corporate tower. It was filled with 3D printers, testing chambers, and some of the brightest medical engineers in the country.
When Richard and Sarah walked in, they were surprised to see Maya and Leo already there, having been dropped off by Maria after school. The two kids were standing near a large metal workbench, intensely focused on a device sitting in the center.
The lead engineer, a brilliant man named Dr. Aris Thorne, looked incredibly nervous as he presented the device to Richard.
"Mr. Sterling, Ms. Sarah, I present to you the Toby Battery 1.0," Dr. Thorne announced, gesturing to a sleek, black, rectangular box. "It holds three times the charge of standard market batteries, features a titanium casing, and integrates seamlessly with almost all pediatric ventilator and heart monitor systems."
Richard looked impressed. "It's incredible, Aris. Great work."
"It's too scary," a small voice interrupted.
The adults turned to look at Maya. She was frowning, her arms crossed over her chest as she scrutinized the black box.
Dr. Thorne blinked, taken aback. "I'm sorry, young lady. Scary?"
Maya nodded, pointing to the device. "It looks like a bomb from a movie. It's totally black, and the warning lights are bright red. When you put that in a little kid's bedroom, it's going to terrify them. Kids with these machines already have nightmares about hospitals and doctors. You can't put a scary black box in their safe space."
The engineers exchanged bewildered glances. They had spent thousands of hours optimizing the lithium cells and calculating voltage drop-offs, but not one of them had considered the psychological impact of the device's aesthetics on a child.
"And the alarm," Leo chimed in, standing next to Maya. "Does it beep really loud?"
"Well, yes," Dr. Thorne said. "It has a ninety-decibel alert to notify parents of a power shift."
"Too loud," Maya shook her head. "Toby's old alarm used to make him cry every time it tested itself. You should make the alarm a song. Or at least a soft chime first, before the loud beep. And you should paint the box."
"Paint it?" Richard asked, amused by the hostile takeover of his engineering department by two children.
"Yeah," Maya said. "Make it look like a toy box. Or paint stars on it. If it’s supposed to protect kids in the dark, it should look like something friendly."
May you like
Dr. Thorne stared at the seven-year-old, then looked at Richard, utterly humbled. "She... she is absolutely right, sir. We completely overlooked the pediatric user experience. I'll have the design team completely overhaul the casing and acoustic alerts by Monday."
Richard laughed out loud, clapping the engineer on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad, Aris. I pay you to understand the circuitry. I pay Maya in ice cream to understand the kids."
