"Look, how can I make it any clearer? You died and we had to save you another way."
"Oh no. No, no, this isn't what I -"
A hazardous internal state has been detected and the image has been shut down to prevent further damage.
I sighed and took a tired sip of coffee, observing the disorted rendition of the monitor's blue in the mug. After a few moments of scrolling white text, it was time to go again.
"Hi, Ron. I'm Dr Elliot. You can call me Liz."
"You were driving home, and there was an accident. The -" I relaxed, anticipating the interruption.
"Wait, this isn't a hospital. You aren't a doctor."
"You're right. This is the university. I'm not a medic, but I have a doctorate in substrate-independent cognition."
"Why can't I move?"
"There was a complication, Ron. They rushed you into theatre, but you were too weak for surgery. We read your card and it said you were registered for neural scans and upload. Your time was running out, so we did the only thing we could."
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
I love it! Reminds me a bit of Philip K Dick by way of William Gibson, touching on the fantastic but just plausible enough to be disconcerting.
- #1533 Posted 3 years ago
- 5 out of 5
Nice. Poor Ron. Maybe, I mean, this is how superheroes are born, right?
- #1536 Posted 3 years ago
- Published 3 years ago.
- Story viewed 8 times and rated 1 times.
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