I got up from my computer, after shutting it down with a sigh, and stretched. My head ached sharply for a moment. I closed my eyes and took the few steps into the section of my tiny apartment I called my kitchen. I knew my apartment by heart, I hadn’t moved since I finished college, a few years ago. The headache was to be expected, I had been involved in a very long and intense raid with my guild. However, it had been happening more frequently. Well, I had a checkup tomorrow, and I could bring it up then. I opened the cupboard where I kept the small amount of emergency food I kept at home. My old fridge had broken down, so I ate a lot of takeout. I earned a bit of money selling items I got from raids, but as everyone moved to VR, I earned less and less. I was counting on being able to afford a VR headset before I became broke, but it seemed less and less likely every day. Shaking my head at the tiny selection, I got myself a bowl of ramen. I had sworn off it the day I left college, but that heartfelt oath had barely lasted a month. I barely tasted it as I wolfed it down. After rinsing my dishes, I dumped them in the sink to dry

The next morning, I selected some cereal with water. I grimaced at the texture. I had added hot water, so it became almost instantly soggy. Since I couldn’t have milk, I had to get used to the taste. I put the bare minimum of toothpaste on my spongy toothbrush to brush my teeth and slipped on my old, threadbare Nikes and my ancient rain jacket to walk to the doctor’s office. It took me an hour or so, and I slipped in just over fifteen minutes late. Luckily, the line was running a bit slow, so I was pretty much on time. I undressed, and entered the glorified box for my full body scan that was customary. It made me feel slightly claustrophobic, my hair brushing against the top of the machine. I was tall, maybe 6 foot 4 inches and my brown hair couldn’t be controlled without some gel, a comb and an hour, and since my alarm hadn’t been turned on, I didn’t have the time. I wasn’t what you could call conventionally handsome, but some people claimed to see some beauty in my face. I couldn’t really see it, but not for the lack of trying. The machine beeped and I jumped, bashing my large nose again the door. I quickly dressed myself, and after I had finished the door swung open. I was directed to another waiting room, while the scans were analyzed. I started drumming my feet, but stopped when I realized I didn’t have anything also to do, so I could be patient. I took out my phone, and skimmed Amazon for a VR headset I could afford. I had already bought one, a few months, but it was broken and I had to discard it. The part which allowed the game to be controlled mentally was defective; it didn’t immobilize me when I played. It was fine for 3D modeling programs, for example, but my apartment didn’t have enough room for more than 5 steps.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

My number flashed on the screen with room number 13 next to it, and so I opened the door and slipped quietly in.

“Mr. Jason Jones?” the doctor checked. I nodded. “Excellent. Please sit down.” They motioned towards a chair that looked surprisingly comfortable, compared the other chairs that I had to endure. I sat down cautiously and sighed slightly as I settled into my seat. The doctor looked through the records again on their tablet, and sighed. “It says here you asked to be notified yourself if diagnosed with any problems. Can you please confirm that?” I nodded. They sighed again. “I’m sorry, I need verbal confirmation.”

“Yes, I did ask to be notified myself if diagnosed with any problems.” I parroted, not thinking about what I was saying. Problems? What kind of problems?

“Mr. Jones,” they started.

“Please call me Jason.” I hated that name. Jones. Jason Jones. Sounded like a failed actor or rapper or whatever.

“Jason, you have,” they hesitated, and then started again. “Mr. Jones, you have severe and almost certainly fatal brain damage.” I sat there in shock. “We think it may have come from a defective device, have you had any implants at any time? Did you attempt to have a memory erased?”

“…Yes.”

“Yes what?” When I didn’t reply, the doctor pressed a small button on their desk. I felt a needle prick where I was sitting, and I started to regain my senses.

“So, do you have them installed in every chair, or just this one? Is there a reason this is room 13?” I joked weakly.

“Yes.” The doctor ground their teeth. “The board of directors thought it would be ‘amusing’ to have all serious diagnosis in room 13. But can you answer me? I’d understand if you wouldn’t want to.”

“I ordered a very cheap VR headset on Amazon, turned out to be defective. It didn’t stop my body from moving when it was active, so it was basically useless. But please tell me, how long do I have?”

“We believe that you can live comfortably for another… two months? Afterwards, you will start feeling intense pain, your vision will start to go, but you will probably be dead in four.”

 “... Goodbye” As I left room 13, I felt pats on the back from the nurses and doctors that had seen me leave the room and saw the tears on my cheeks. As I walked home, I could barely see through my tears, which were luckily disguised by the rain. With one hand shoved in my pocket, the other fumbled with fitting the key in the lock.