Wayside: A Serial Novel - Episode 4
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Episode Four: The Interview
Upon arriving at Bonfire Pavilion, Ben handed Kevin an N95.
“What’s this?” Kevin broke the silence that had fallen between them since they left the mural to board the tram.
Ben didn’t answer. He waited, watching Kevin until he unsealed the plastic sleeve and pulled the respirator out, turning it over in his hands. “Oh.”
“Put it on before we enter the pavilion.” Ben said as he donned a respirator of his own. It wasn’t a request.
“Wait,” said Kevin. “You mean people still wear masks outdoors here?”
“In many situations, yes. Like the assembly we’re headed into right now.”
“We just came from a nice outdoor dinner. No one was masked there.”
“That’s because it was a small gathering and everyone tested earlier in the day. Including you.”
With a loud scoff, Kevin relented. He placed the respirator on his face, following Ben’s instructions for conforming the clip to the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get it.” He rolled his eyes to convey his disdain. “Why would you bring all these people here and shut the whole place off to the rest of the world if you’re still going to insist on living like this? Will any place ever be safe enough for you?”
“I answer that in the interview we’re getting ready to watch. If you’ll listen with an open mind, you’ll walk away with a better understanding—”
“For God’s sake, Ben!” Kevin sighed with exasperation, pulling the N95 down to his chin. “This is extreme! Masks in a doctor’s office? Okay, fine. But outdoors? People think you’re running a cult in here. I’m beginning to believe it too. You want to know why I’m here?”
“That’s what I asked you, yes.”
“I came to see if you’re okay. I’m worried about you. Do you not realize how utterly insane it is to live like this? The rest of the world has moved on!”
“Lower your voice and put the mask back on,” Ben said firmly. “I can either escort you back to the main gate now, or we can get through this evening and talk more when we get home for the night. Either way, I’m not going to let you cause a scene here.”
“Fine.” Kevin replaced the mask and followed Ben into the entrance of the pavilion.
As they entered, the hundreds of people in attendance rose to their feet at the sight of Ben. They applauded for several seconds, then began to chant, clapping their hands to the beat.
We love you BenBen
Oh yes we do!
You gave us Wayside
A dream come true…
“What are they saying?” Kevin asked, struggling to discern the lyrics.
“They’re just chanting our official cult anthem,” Ben said to Kevin over his shoulder.
“Wiseass.”
Ben scanned the crowd, finding Josina waving them toward the block of seats reserved for the Founders’ Council members. Once they made their way toward her, Kevin took a seat next to Bellamy. Josina took Ben’s hand, guiding him through the crowd toward the stage.
“Hurry,” she urged him. “The rest of us already went up to the microphone to welcome the audience and get everyone hyped up. We’ve got the livestream ready to project on the big screen. Commercials are playing right now, but ‘Chat with Chatleigh’ will be starting any minute. Just say a quick hello and come back down to sit with us.”
“Don’t you want to come up with me?”
“They’ve already heard from me.” Josina squeezed his hand. “But thank you. You’re the one they really want to hear from, so go say a few words. Ready or not, it’s time!”
Ben squeezed her hand back, then pulled away to ascend the stairs to the stage. As he reached the microphone, the crowd erupted into cheering and applause.
“Thank you, thank you everyone.” Ben waited for the noise to die down. He gripped the microphone nervously with both hands, shifting his weight back and forth ever so slightly on his feet. Big crowds made him anxious; speaking to them, even more so. Over the past year he’d worked hard on building his confidence for the task, knowing it would be expected of him on a regular basis. “I’m so proud to be standing before you this evening in this community. Just a few years ago, when the rest of the world decided to live with the unmitigated spread of a deadly and disabling virus, we were told that some would fall by the wayside.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
“But we did the unexpected. We rose from the wayside.” Thunderous applause and cheering resumed. “My neighbors, my friends, my family… we came together and lifted each other up from some of the darkest moments of our lives. We found a new home. We built a new community. We started a new way of life. And now we get to tell our story to the world!”
More applause. Ben’s eyes fell on Josina, who was frantically gesturing for him to wrap up.
“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than here at Wayside, our Wayside,” said Ben. “Please give your Founders’ Council another round of applause. And yourselves – give yourselves a round of applause! Thank you all for making this possible!”
The collective roar of hundreds of clapping hands followed. Ben exited the stage, returning to his seat next to Josina. As if perfectly timed, the movie screen behind the stage illuminated with the video feed. The broadcast started with upbeat instrumental music and the ‘Chat with Chatleigh’ logo superimposed over a sequence of photos and video clips from throughout the show’s 20 year run. Once the montage finished, it led straight into another.
A new series of photos and videos followed. Crowds of excited people lined up at a ticket window. Children on a carousel. A family eating a funnel cake and cotton candy. A roller coaster zooming past the camera, filled with screaming riders waving their hands in the air. Cheery instrumental pop music started with the montage.
The volume dropped quickly as host Aileen Chatleigh’s voiceover began.
“You only live once, so make it count! So was the inspiration for YOLO Amusement Park in Pine Tree, North Carolina. Built in 1973 on what was once family owned-farmlands between the mountains and the coast, the park quickly became a weekend getaway for locals of the Carolinas and a popular vacation destination for families from around the world. Growing in size and sophistication from year to year, YOLO park promised new experiences and delights to ensure guests would always have a reason to come back.”
Suddenly, the montage shifted from joyful amusement park scenes to footage of ambulances racing through the park, sirens wailing. Crowds of bystanders weeping and clinging to each other as they stared in the same direction at some unseen horror off-camera. Footage of mourners at a funeral followed.
“Then tragedy struck. In 2022, the support beam of a thrill ride broke, causing the passenger cars to run off the rails, killing 8 of the passengers and leaving the remaining riders critically injured. Weeks later, two small children who did not meet the height requirements for the log flume attraction were thrown from the ride and drowned in the water. The park closed early for the season, with management attributing structural issues with the rides and staff neglect of safety protocols to the enduring effects of Covid lockdowns from 2020. The following spring, the park reopened to the public, with management voicing a renewed commitment to safety. Sadly, it was short-lived.
“Just days after opening, a young employee died suddenly behind the console of a manually controlled thrill ride. Emergency protocols failed when it took fellow staff more than half an hour to notice and intervene. Meanwhile, the passengers of the ride were left spinning at high speeds in an unventilated enclosure, resulting in another death and dozens of medical emergencies. The park closed again for the season, just days after it had opened. By 2024, when YOLO’s owners recognized they’d never recover from the mounting lawsuits and the damage done to the park’s reputation, they permanently closed the campus and filed for bankruptcy.” The montage ended and the screen faded to black.
Then the black screen dissolved away, revealing the iconic journalist Aileen Chatleigh seated stiffly in an armchair. She wore a bright red dress suit, perfectly coiffed silver hair, tasteful gold stud earrings. Dark eyebrows arched over her piercing blue eyes. She faced the camera with a dire look. “Later that year, the park was purchased by an unlikely buyer, for a surprising purpose. Join me this evening as I sit down for an intimate conversation with the new owner of the property where YOLO once stood.” She turned her head slightly to face her guest. The camera zoomed out, bringing both of them into the frame.
As Ben came into view, applause and cheering erupted from the audience at Bonfire Pavilion.
“Welcome, Ben Santos,” the host continued. Her voice was low-pitched and husky; she projected it in a way that filled the room and defied her petite frame.
The camera cut to Ben for a closeup of his face. He appeared relaxed in his matching armchair, legs crossed at the knee, hands folded over his lap. He was clearly smiling under his black N95. “Thank you, Aileen. I appreciate the invitation.”
“Two years ago, you bought an amusement park in North Carolina and turned it into something else. What is it today?”
“A gated community.”
Ripples of laughter sounded throughout the audience at Bonfire Pavilion.
“I’ve heard it’s not your typical gated community,” she smiled playfully. “What makes it different?”
“There are some things we do differently, yes. The most notable difference is that everyone masks indoors in public places.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And why is that?”
“We’re North America’s first public health and safety sanctuary community.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re a group of people from all over the globe who connected on social media during the early days of our ongoing Covid-19 pandemic. As government policies and guidance from health authorities shifted toward the approach of living with infectious diseases rather containing them, then stigmatized and criminalized masking as a personal protective measure, high-risk individuals were left to ‘fall by the wayside,’ as some called it. Those vulnerable people and their allies who chose to resist the mainstream move to accept exposure to the virus began talking to each other on social media. We found each other on Cluckr with hashtags like #CovidIsNotOver and #BringBackMasks after mandates were dropped. Unfortunately, many of us found ourselves subject to harassment and intimidation on that platform. People began deleting their accounts over concerns for their privacy and safety, so we created our own platform – Waysidr. As users of our app communicated their struggles with staying safe in the real world, we decided we needed to find places where we could come together and create physical communities. We opened our first such community last year on the campus that used to be YOLO. Today it is known as Wayside.”
“Your choice of a shuttered amusement park to host this community seems rather unconventional. Tell me about that.”
“We looked at a number of properties before we decided on the YOLO campus. Those included former military bases, school buildings, and RV parks just to name a few. We decided on YOLO as the campus had everything we needed to move in quickly and get our community up and running. Between the hotels and the staff dormitory, we had modern living spaces for thousands of people. The entire campus is built like a little city, with commercial kitchens, retail storefronts, outdoor gathering spaces, office buildings which we’ve converted into school space and public service agencies, fiber optic internet, a security gate around the campus, and underground tunnels for emergencies and disasters. The park had a small infirmary, which is now our healthcare center where our residents go for primary and emergency care. As we grow in size, we’ll apply to the state for a certificate of need to build a larger hospital where we can address the acute and long-care needs of our community.”
“What would you say to people who call you a separatist society?”
“We are a separatist society. We were well before we moved to Wayside. For years, many of the people in our community lived in isolation at home because it wasn’t safe for them to participate in public life. Now we have a place to call home in the real world, where we’re committed to keeping each other safe.”
“Don’t you think that’s a radical move? Some of your critics think it’s extreme to establish a separatist society shut off from the rest of the world.”
“I’d disagree with them, and I’d question their integrity. If they didn’t care about us living separate lives in isolation before we moved here, they shouldn’t have a reason to criticize us coming together as a community now. And I’d correct their misinformation. We aren’t shut off from the rest of the world at Wayside. We’re a gated community, but our residents are free to come and go as they please. We welcome visitors as long as they have a sponsor, and agree to complete a 10-day quarantine on-site at the Gateway Lodge, a hotel we renovated for that purpose. As long as they test negative for a panel of infectious diseases when their quarantine period is up, they’re free to enter Wayside to visit their sponsor. We expect them to abide by our indoor masking agreement, of course.”
“So you’ve essentially eradicated Covid and other infectious diseases inside your community.”
“Not exactly. We have neighbors at Wayside who are suffering from persistent Covid infections. They’ve been testing positive for months to years. But because of our focus on preventing the spread of disease and our shared commitment to keeping each other safe, we haven’t seen infections spread to other members of the community. While we haven’t eradicated Covid, we’ve contained it.”
“So those individuals with persistent Covid… I take it they’re not well? Are they bedbound? Do they require care around the clock?”
“Some do.”
“That must be costly. How do those people contribute to the community?”
“They don’t get up and go to work every day, if that’s what you mean. Many of them don’t have health insurance because they can no longer work; they’re too young for Medicare, and several have been denied disability benefits. They’re still a part of our community. They’re the ones who needed Wayside the most. The world outside our gates failed them and left them to die, so we brought in as many as we could accommodate with the resources we currently have.”
“And what about those you had to leave behind? How does your conscience allow that?” Her tone shifted from inquisitive to adversarial in an instant. A subtle smile followed. The gloves were off.
At Bonfire Pavilion, Waysiders shook their head and groaned, mumbling their discontent with the assault on Ben’s integrity – and their own by extension. A few angry shouts erupted from the audience.
“He didn’t leave us behind! You people did!” Someone yelled, directing their rage at the show’s host.
“How can she look him in the eye and ask him that?”
“Change the channel, she’s only going to get worse!”
Josina rose to her feet, turned to face the audience, and made a shushing gesture. The crowd respected her directive and quickly settled. She pointed to the screen, directing their collective attention back to the broadcast.
“We established the Wayside Relief Foundation,” Ben continued in the interview. “For those we didn’t have space for – yet, and for those who were too fragile to safely be relocated to Wayside, we have a nonprofit to help cover the costs of their in-home caregivers, medications, medical bills, food, rent and utility assistance – whatever is needed to support those individuals until we can expand our capacity. We also provide laptop computers or tablets so they can access telemedicine care, as well as join our virtual support groups and participate in other Wayside community events.”
“Wayside for those on the outside.”
“Yes.”
“Well… I have to applaud all of the thought and effort that has gone into developing the Wayside community as a sanctuary for those who want to live without any worry of being infected. But tell me, if you have such tight control over Covid and other infections, why does everyone still wear masks indoors?”
“For a number of reasons. Although Waysiders agree to mask when they leave our community, many of them still have to spend time in high-risk settings, like specialty care clinics and hospitals. If they pick up an infection and bring it home with them, our masking protocols protect others by keeping the infection contained. We also mask because we’re surrounded by wooded areas, which means we have wildlife roaming the park and birds flying overhead which could be carrying airborne infectious diseases which might infect a community member with something we wouldn’t want spreading to others. And the chance exists that a visiting guest might test negative after a 10-day quarantine required for entry, but could experience a rebound infection once inside.”
She nodded while pondering Ben’s points.
He continued. “We also keep in mind that many people in our community have Long Covid. Research has shown that viral persistence contributes to the condition, so while a person may not have an active infection when they enter, they still have a virus in their body that can continue mutating and spreading to other organs. It could potentially cause that person to become infectious again at some point. Covid has also been shown to reactivate other infectious diseases, like tuberculosis, which is also airborne. You wouldn’t want to be indoors unmasked with a person in that situation, right at the moment they became infectious. We never know when or where that might happen, so we mask at all times indoors in public. It’s also worth mentioning that some people mask primarily because of allergies or sensitivities to chemicals and fragrances, and would still need to do so even if there were no infectious disease threats. What’s most important to note, though, is that our current pandemics and outbreaks won’t be the last ones we’ll face in our lifetimes. There will be more airborne pathogens which could disrupt our lives if we don’t have a realistic approach to containing them. We’ve never stopped masking at Wayside, so we’ll be ready whenever the next infectious disease threat arrives.”
“Interesting,” said Aileen with a quick nod. “If there are still risks now – neglible though they may be – and if it’s inevitable there will be more outbreaks or pandemics involving airborne viruses, why not wear masks outdoors too?”
“Research has shown that if there are low levels of airborne pathogens present in wastewater – as we regularly confirm with data from our local sewer shed – the risk of community transmission is very low. It’s significantly lower outdoors than indoors, of course. Individuals have much more control over their risk outdoors. Our neighbors in Wayside are very well informed as to which situations would be riskier than others. If there’s plenty of space between you and other people, and you’re under an open sky – no trees or shelter above you, your risk of infection is extremely low. Crowd size can raise that risk, so when we have assemblies or gatherings, we recommend outdoor masking.”
“Recommend… but not require? Isn’t that one of the criticisms you had about government and health authorities’ guidance for masking before Wayside was founded?” She reached for a folder on the end table next to her chair, opening it on her lap. Then she put a stylish pair of reading glasses on and lifted the top page in the folder to the level of her eyes. “In 2023, you went before Congress and gave an impassioned speech about your mother losing her battle with Long Covid. You vocally opposed the end of masking mandates, and stated your opinion that leaving masking behavior up to individual discretion increases the risk of harm to vulnerable members of the community. So how do you reconcile that with your lack of a masking mandate outdoors?”
“I’m glad you asked. As I mentioned a few minutes ago, many of us have had Covid at some point and are living with the enduring effects of the disease. As we’re seven years into this pandemic, a significant portion of the population now has diminished lung capacity due to lung disease that developed following Covid infections. Those folks have a much harder time breathing in a mask than the average person without lung damage would. When outdoors, people are generally more active – walking or moving around otherwise – and that exertion makes it even more difficult for them to breathe, especially with the extreme heat we’ve seen this past year during the warmer months. Adding a mask when there’s already an increased demand on their heart and lungs could overwhelm that person’s cardiovascular system and cause a medical emergency. We wanted those people to be able to engage in public life safely too, so we leave outdoor masking up to individual discretion. We also provide free unlimited Covid and Influenza tests to all members of our community, many of which take advantage of that resource and test regularly for peace of mind – especially before gatherings. As I mentioned a moment ago, Wayside is also a wastewater monitoring site, so if any of our community members were to have a latent infection reactivate, we’d see it early in the wastewater signal and could inform our community with an elevated risk alert.”
“And how would people get that alert?”
Ben leaned forward, pulling his smartphone out of the pocket of his blazer. The camera zoomed in for a closeup of his phone screen. He tapped an icon which looked like a small traffic light. It brought up a larger traffic light on his screen. Green, yellow, and red circles were stacked atop each other. The color green was illuminated. “We have a text messaging system and apps for communication within Wayside. We use the traffic light image to communicate risk. Green means environmental air quality is good and there’s nothing of concern the wastewater signal. We’d move to yellow if air quality were compromised, like if there were a high concentration of pollutants or allergens in the air. We move up to red in extreme conditions, like a nearby wildfire or an anomaly in the wastewater signal. The traffic light updates every morning so everyone can make informed decisions about whether or not to mask outdoors.” When Ben exited the app, the camera lingered on the closeup of his phone for another second.
Suddenly, Josina gasped.
Ben turned to look at her. “What’s wrong?” He whispered. “Are you ok?”
“Yes, of course,” she whispered back, a little too quickly. “Sorry. I just… uh… when I saw that big close up of your phone, it made me remember that I left my phone at home. I’m waiting on a text. It’s… time-sensitive.”
“Oh. Are you sure? I thought you had it at The Black Sheep?”
“I did. I ran home after dinner to put in on the charger for a few minutes.”
“Do you want me to go get it for you?”
“No, this entire evening is about you. You’re the star of this show, so you should stay put. I’ll go.” She sniffled as she rose to her feet.
“Jo?”
“Yes?”
“You seem upset. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine, I swear. See you in a bit!” She made her way toward the center aisle, swiftly ascended the stairs, and exited the pavilion.
Ben returned his attention to the broadcast, to the visual of Aileen Chatleigh pushing her reading glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “So you give your community members tools, but not restrictions or mandates,” she said. “Essentially, you rely on the ‘personal responsibility’ approach that you’ve criticized in the past.”
“It’s the tools that make the difference,” Ben replied onscreen. “Early in the Covid pandemic when our leaders told us to unmask and get back to normal, we were promised we had tools to live with the virus. Data, free testing, vaccines, and treatment – all of which were removed or restricted. And criminalized, in the case of masks. Masking is our most effective tool for mitigating the spread. Waysiders understand that and are on the same page about when and where masking is needed. And that’s all we wanted, really. We didn’t want mandates or restrictions; we wanted a community where masking was normalized, all were in agreement with indoor masking in public, and people had the tools and information necessary for making decisions about masking outdoors. We worked very hard to come together and live as a society because we cared for each other. We believed our community was worth preserving and protecting. We mask and take other precautious by choice, not force.”
Suddenly short on words, the host simply nodded, adding a prolonged “Hmmm,” to fill the space.
Thunderous applause erupted throughout the pavilion. Several people sprung to their feet, applauding Ben’s commentary. Once the enthusiastic response from the crowd died down, their attention returned to the broadcast. Aileen Chatleigh had moved on to her next question for Ben.
“Earlier you mentioned that Wayside is a public health and safety sanctuary community. You’ve spoken about the public health approach. Now let’s talk about the safety part. There are rumors that Wayside is a gun-free community. Is that true?”
“No,” Ben corrected her. “Like many private communities, we don’t allow hunting, sports, or recreational activities involving firearms. That said, some of our community members exercise their constitutional right to own a personal firearm for self-defense. As long as they’ve passed a background check, obtained a permit, and they agree to keep their firearm stored securely, we trust them to be responsible gun owners.”
Clearly, it wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. “So you place a great emphasis on masking as a safety measure, but you’ve given no thought to how you might protect children from a school shooting, for instance?”
“Of course we have,” said Ben. “Our K-12 school has protocols in place, not just for active shooter events, but all kinds of emergencies and threats. Students learn how to respond in any kind of crisis situation you could imagine, and drills are held throughout the school year.”
She dug deeper. “There must be something to the rumors.”
“Sometimes rumors are just rumors,” he insisted, smiling again with his eyes. “Since we knew gun ownership was a sensitive topic, we’ve encouraged open, ongoing dialogue at Wayside about it. There’s a common desire to live in a community that is free of gun violence. That doesn’t necessarily mean free of guns. We do have neighbors in Wayside who feel safer having a gun in their home, should they ever need to defend themselves. But in listening to their concerns, we learned that what gun owners want more than having a gun at home is to never have to use it. For that reason, it was gun owners at Wayside who spearheaded a community safety council. They worked with our director of safety and security to develop our neighborhood watch, they held self-defense classes and first responder training for community members, and they set up an alert line that anyone can report safety concerns to by voice or text. They viewed gun ownership as more than just a right, but a responsibility, which they take very seriously. They’re doing everything they can to ensure that we as a community can address any threats to safety proactively, in the hopes that they’ll never need to rely on their guns.”
“Let’s move on from guns,” she replied, ready to poke and prod at other topics for controversy. “There’s a great deal of interest in how you’re funding the Wayside community. As I understand it, you bought the park for $1.8 billion, which you paid with your own personal funds, correct?”
“Correct. I received a sizeable inheritance and wanted to do something worthwhile with it.”
“And what about the continued expenses? It sounds like you’ve done quite a bit of renovations to turn the park into a residential community, plus you’re supporting individuals who are chronically ill and economically inactive. You’ve set up a foundation to help others outside of Wayside. You’ve mentioned plans to build a bigger hospital. So how do you fund all of this? How much do your community members contribute? Does their rent subsidize Wayside’s continued growth? Do they pay any kind of membership fees to live there?”
“No membership fees. And no one pays rent.”
Aileen Chatleigh’s eyes narrowed. A smile played at her lips. Her guest had just handed her the opening she’d been waiting for, practically gift-wrapped with a bow on top.
“That doesn’t seem like a sound business model, certainly not a sustainable one,” she said, shaking her head slightly.
“There’s plenty of space for everyone in our community to have a home and have their basic needs met, so rather than living paycheck to paycheck for the rest of their lives like many Americans do, Waysiders are free to focus on their families, their health, their hobbies and passions, and on building wealth of their own.”
“Building wealth of their own? Tell me more about that.”
“Every adult in the community is guaranteed a job that provides them with livable wages and benefits. For those who can’t work due to chronic illness and disabilities, we provide a basic income stipend to supplement any government benefits they receive, if they get any help at all. Many don’t. We believe everyone deserves a place to live, and to be able to live with dignity. Having your own income, being able to provide for yourself and loved ones, and being able to save money makes that possible.”
“And what do Waysiders need money for? If you’re providing them with housing and they have everything they need within your community, what do they do with all that money? Is it fair to say you’ve built a small community of hand-picked elites who are hoarding wealth and not contributing to the economy outside of your gates?”
At Bonfire Pavilion, the audience groaned and booed the question.
Onscreen, Ben laughed. “That’s far from the case, Aileen. The vast majority of people in our community are supporting family members outside of Wayside. Most everyone has loved ones who are chronically ill and can no longer work. In addition, several of our community members came from families which owned businesses that have collapsed. Like family-owned farms that can no longer produce crops due to climate change, and small businesses which didn’t survive the impacts of inflation and the current economic recession. There are millions of families across the country who have lost their main source of income, with no feasible means of replacing it. More than 65% of Waysiders’ incomes goes to supporting family outside of our community. Wayside is literally keeping thousands of people outside of our gates from becoming homeless. We’re covering their student loan and credit card payments. We’re paying their medical bills and keeping their prescriptions filled each month. We’re buying their groceries and keeping their utilities on. I’d hardly say that there are any elites building and hoarding wealth in our community.”
“And all of this is coming out of your pocket?”
“No. Wayside Community Enterprises is the business arm of Wayside. It’s generating the revenue we need to sustain our community.”
“What kind of business is it?”
“It’s a virtual staffing agency. Before we bought the YOLO property and moved in, we polled users of the Waysidr app on their education level and work experiences. We found that the average education level was much higher than the general population, which we saw as an important opportunity. At Wayside, 8 out of 10 adults hold a 4-year degree. Half of the adults with 4-year degrees also hold a graduate or professional degree. Most adults have more than a decade of work experience under their belts, and several have achieved licenses or certifications demonstrating their proficiency in their fields. So as our country struggles with the growing crisis of skilled labor shortages, we can help fill in the gaps.”
“And what types of businesses are your customers?”
“There’s a big demand for educators so we have several K-12 and university professors at Wayside who teach and tutor remotely. We also do a lot of business in information technology and cybersecurity, with more than a dozen Fortune 500 companies as our clients. You might be surprised to know that the industry we serve most is actually healthcare.”
“And how is it different from all the telemedicine apps that people have to choose from these days?”
“We don’t do telemedicine. We provide services for both patients and healthcare providers during in-person encounters.”
“Services for both patients and healthcare providers during in-person encounters,” she repeated in a curious tone. “How does that work?”
“Let’s first talk about the problems we’re aiming to solve,” said Ben. “Over the past few years, medical errors have climbed to historic highs. Those errors have cost thousands of lives and billions of dollars. Hospitals are penalized in the form of cuts to reimbursement from government and commercial payors. As those cuts grow steeper, hospitals struggle financially and eventually close their doors if they can’t stay economically viable. When communities lose hospitals, that hurts everyone, including us at Wayside. We all depend on our local hospitals, so we all have a vested interest in making sure they stay open. Researchers who have studied the rise in medical errors consistently name the same underlying causes contributing to the problem, such as a shrinking healthcare workforce, an increase in patient acuity and severity of their conditions, and neurocognitive changes in both healthcare workers and patients.”
“You mean… brain damage.”
“That’s one way to describe it, yes. There’s plenty of data which shows that most of the population has experienced changes to the brain in recent years. Those changes impair thinking and behavior to some degree, which increases the risk of errors and lessens the overall quality of care that hospital provide. In the same manner, patients with neurocognitive changes can’t be as effective in communicating with their care teams, complying with their plans of care, and advocating for themselves. One of our most in-demand roles at Wayside Community Enterprises is Virtual Patient Advocate. Our VPAs have chronic health conditions of their own that they’ve studied extensively. They’ve gained considerable experience in navigating the healthcare system and advocating for their own care, so they’re perfectly suited to advocate for others. Whenever a patient outside of Wayside has a doctor’s appointment or a procedure, or even if they just need to place a call to one of their healthcare providers, their VPA can join remotely to facilitate communication, request diagnostics or medications or second opinions, ensure the patient has everything they need to comply with their plan of care, and coordinate follow-up. Our VPA program has been so successful at improving health outcomes and reducing costs that we’re in talks with insurers about VPA support becoming a reimbursable service.”
“Fascinating.” Aileen pursed her lips. “That’s a helpful illustration of how you help patients. How does Wayside Community Enterprises help the healthcare workers caring for them? Can you give an example?”
“Imagine you’re an administrator at the only hospital in your state that performs a certain high-risk surgery. Let’s say your only surgeon who can perform the surgery was recently placed on probation for medical errors. One more strike and he’s out. Your efforts to recruit other qualified surgeons have fallen flat, so you’ve only got two options. Stop offering the surgeries, in which case, patients who need them will decline or die, and you’ll lose much-needed revenue. Or, allow your surgeon to continue providing the surgeries under the supervision of another qualified surgeon. Since you can’t find a qualified surgeon to work on-site at your hospital, you bring one in remotely from Wayside. Once you mount a monitor with 2-way video and audio in the surgical bay and give one of our surgeons view-only access to the computer applications used throughout the surgery, that person can supervise the entire procedure to ensure the on-site surgeon doesn’t make any errors in judgment. If he does, the remote surgeon will intervene and give instructions for corrective action. And if the on-site surgeon is struggling to make a decision, or just needs help, he can ask for the supervising surgeon to intervene.”
“Weren’t hospitals already doing that type of thing during the early days of the pandemic?”
“Yes they were. Many lessened their reliance on virtual models of care after hospital operations returned to normal. Fortunately they’re discovering that virtual care still holds value, and are open to reinstalling equipment and revising their protocols to include it again. The technology and the practices involved in using it aren’t so rare. And we have competition. There are other companies providing the same kinds of services. But what you’d like to know is what makes Wayside Community Enterprises different, right? Why are we the best option for providing such services?”
“That’s the million-dollar question here.” She cocked her head, raised her eyebrows.
“We know that Covid infections can cause changes to the brain. This is very well documented in the hundreds of studies which have taken place since the beginning of the pandemic, as well as what we know from the first SARS epidemic in the early 2000s. Less exposure to Covid means less infections, which means less impact to the brain. At Wayside, everyone in our community has gone to great lengths to shield themselves from exposure to the virus. Among the general population in this country, adults have had an average of six confirmed infections. At Wayside, it’s just one infection on average. In fact, several members of our community have never had Covid. It’s the most likely reason why our virtual patient advocates, doctors, teachers, IT technicians, and professionals in any other field can outperform peers outside of Wayside in occupational competency tests or skills challenges.”
“So you believe Waysiders are cognitively superior?”
“This has nothing to do with what I think. These are objective facts. You can find the data on our website.”
“Our healthcare workers who risked their lives during the height of the pandemic are now being stigmatized as having brain damage, and you’ve built a company to profit off the challenges they’re facing with their own health. Don’t you think it’s unethical?”
“Far from it, Aileen. Healthcare workers have had disproportionately higher levels of exposure to the virus than the general public and are among the most impacted by the enduring effects of Covid. You’re correct, they showed tremendous heroism during some of the darkest days our nation has ever seen – which is why they deserve our help now. They want to protect their patients from errors and keep them safe. They want to be able to stay in their jobs so they can provide for their own families. They want the hospitals that employ them to stay open because someday, they’ll need care themselves. Our community had a solution for their problem. We’ve helped hospitals make big improvements in quality measures, retain staff, and avoid bankruptcy and closures. It’s a win-win. In fact, we’ve had such a successful first year of operation, I’m pleased to announce that we’re going through the IPO process to become a publicly traded company.”
At Bonfire Pavilion, thunderous applause followed Ben’s comment. The loud hum of collective clapping and cheering drowned out Aileen Chatleigh’s next question as she continued speaking onscreen. The audience quieted again once the camera returned to Ben for his answer.
“Yes, Aileen. Of course our community is supportive of this move. We held a town hall to discuss the pros and cons of Wayside Community Enterprises becoming a publicly traded company, and took a vote on it. The overwhelming majority felt confident that as long as we keep more than 50% of shares, allowing us to retain decision-making authority, it would be a good thing for us. By going public and allowing other investors to be a part of what we’re doing, we gain more visibility as a company, we can grow our customer base and expand into new industries, we’re more likely to secure partnerships with businesses with overlapping missions, and we have more access to the capital we need for the next phase of Wayside.”
“And what is that next phase?”
“We want to buy more properties around the country where we can build additional Wayside communities. The acquisition of YOLO was just the beginning. We only have space for so many in our current community, but we’ve got a waitlist of people from all over the world who want to join us. We need to make room for them.”
Another enthusiastic round of applause.
Kevin slid into the empty seat next to Ben. “This is great news, man! You know you can call me if you need an investment firm to oversee everything, right?”
“We’ve got one, thanks.”
“I figured, but thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Yeah. Hey, on a different note,” Kevin leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Bellamy mentioned she needs to go back to the restaurant. She invited me to come along and have a drink before she closes up for the night. I told you she’s into me!”
“Congratulations,” said Ben. “It must be nice to be right about something every once in a while.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Well… do you mind if I go with her? They took my bags straight to your house and one of them has a GPS tracker in it, so I can follow the signal to your place after she closes up.”
“I’d prefer you call me when you’re done. I’ll come get you and walk you back.”
“That’s okay, really. I don’t want to keep you up if I stay out late.”
“It’s not up for negotiation. Call me when you’re done. If it’s after 11 pm when the restaurant closes, I’ll come looking for you.”
“Okay, okay. I didn’t realize there would be a curfew.”
“You said you came to visit me, and I agreed to sponsor you. That makes me responsible for you while you’re here. If I misunderstood and you’re not here to visit me, you’re free to leave at any time.”
“Fine. You don’t have to be such a prick about it,” Kevin sighed loudly. “This whole thing has really changed you, hasn’t it?”
“In some ways, yes.” Ben turned toward him, holding his gaze. “We all change. The best we can do is try to change for the better. I have become more assertive, yes. It was necessary. It’s a good thing.”
“If you say so.” Kevin returned to his seat next to Bellamy.
Onscreen, Aileen Chatleigh was winding down Ben’s interview with a final question. “I believe you know the history of YOLO amusement park, and why the campus was shut down.”
“I certainly do.”
“And how do Waysiders feel about their community being built on the same ground where such unthinkable things happened? Does anyone feel it’s disrespectful to capitalize on the tragedies that happened there?”
“No one feels that way,” he assured her. “What happened at YOLO was beyond tragic, yes. The most devastating thing about it is that all of those deaths were completely unnecessary. There were protocols and rules in place to keep guests safe, but they were neglected. I’m not pointing any fingers as I realize some of that neglect may have been for reasons like the brain changes we discussed before. We know this is happening to most of the population on a broad scale. We know it’s associated with memory loss, lapses in judgment, and reduced inhibitions, all of which could have contributed to occupational errors by employees, and irresponsible behavior by guests. Wayside is a public health and safety sanctuary community. Every single one of us has made a commitment to keeping each other safe. Every single one of us is contributing in some way to the safety of everyone in the world outside of our gates. I think it’s absurd for anyone to imply that our community is somehow a disrespect to those who died there. It’s quite the contrary. We honor the memory of those who died at YOLO by ensuring there will be no more senseless loss of lives in the place we now call home.”
“Thank you for sharing those sentiments, and thanks for coming onto the show to talk to us,” said the host. She turned toward the camera to announce the topic of the next segment, followed by an artificial smile.
At Bonfire Pavilion, the roar of applause sounded once more. There was cheering. Weeping. A sense of relief as the broadcast cut to a commercial break. Ben was surprised to see that the hours he had spent in the studio for the interview had been reduced down to 15 minutes, but was content with knowing the most important messages he’d wanted to share had been preserved in the final cut.
As Waysiders began crowding around him to voice their praise and gratitude, he looked around the crowd for Josina. She hadn’t returned yet. He reached for his phone to send her a text.
The segment with my interview is done. The word is out to the world now.
After a few moments of shaking hands, giving hugs, and accepting the accolades of his fellow Waysiders, he checked his phone again. No response yet.
Where can I find you, Jo?
Ben shook more hands, received more hugs, wiped a few tears. He checked his phone again to find she still hadn’t replied. Pulling away from the crowd, he dialed her number.
She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Jo? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine. I see your texts now. Sorry I didn’t reply. I had my phone silenced for the assembly.”
“It’s okay,” Ben assured her. “Where are you?”
“I’m outside of the entrance to Bonfire, on the bench under the big oak tree.”
“Ok. I’m headed your way. Kevin is going back to The Black Sheep with Bellamy so I’ll meet him there later and walk him back to our place. In the meantime, I’m ready to get out of here and head home to rest for a bit. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, it certainly has.” Josina paused for a moment, then sighed loudly. “Ben, we need to talk.”
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