It was not a good day. The therapies were not working, the pain would not go away. I logged onto my psychiatrist’s website, pinging the web chat room like it was a doorbell to my freedom from this hellish body.
“Ah, Ms. Dodd, what can we do for you today?” the virtual nurse head spoke in a friendly, even tone, looking back at me with stationary eyes.
“I need something stronger, the pain is worse today than ever before. Please call Dr. Morgan.” The virtual head disappeared and a live webchat window opened in the doctor’s office, tagged with my message. His smiling face filled my PALM screen.
“Ms. Dodd I assure you, the pain will subside, just give the virtual positive-stimuli therapies time.”
“No, I need something stronger!”
“Well there is one last program I can run for severe fibromyalgia patients, but it’s risky.”
“I’ll do it!”
“Viruses are a threat to implants these days, and it involves a sleep lab and containment unit..”
“I said I’ll do it, Dr. Morgan. When can I come in?”
“How about 3?”
I read this story, and this one. Challenged by Science in My Fiction. )
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