Test Subject: Synaptix

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<<set $need to "none">> <<set $NDA to "fine">> //2031// It's been a few long years since you had a job. When you were going to college, this sort of thing seemed almost unimaginable. But the world has changed, and so has the job market. At least it's not as bad as it could be. Every month, you get a check. Universal Basic Income, a hollow consolation prize for the huge portion of humanity Artificial Intelligence has made obselete. It's not much, but it's enough. Well, it's usually enough. It's almost enough. But there's something you //need//. [[Your dog needs cataract surgery]] [[You have terrible roommates - you need to move out]] [[You’ve found the perfect addition to your collection]]

<<set $need to "dog">> She’s the sweetest little gremlin, a mixed breed, although you’re not sure what sort. Genetic testing is cheap enough these days that you could find out if you wanted to, but there’s no mystery in that. Her short stubby legs have led you to believe there’s some amount of Corgi in her, but other than that, you can’t even begin to guess. White with brown spots, Zipper has been your constant companion since you first adopted her four years ago. She’s never met a bit of food she doesn’t want to steal from you. But there’s something forming in both of her eyes. You managed to scrounge up the cash for a visit to the vet yesterday, and he told you what you hadn’t wanted to hear. Zipper’s got cataracts. The price of most forms of surgery has fallen in recent years, with advances in technology. But you still don’t have the money you need. It’s not a matter of life and death. But you can’t imagine a world where Zipper can’t see her favorite ball when you throw it at her. [[So you look into ways to make some money]]

<<set $need to "move out">> You’ve heard it said that hell is other people. You never really believed it until recently. The apartment you live in is shared with four other tenants. Living with roommates is not a new experience for you. UBI only goes so far, and this sort of arrangement is what you can afford. It’s not the temperamental downstairs sink, or the mold in the upstairs closet, or the glitchy internet that bothers you. It’s conflict. Two of your roommates, Douglas and Maggie, are dating. They probably shouldn’t be. Sometimes you don’t think they even like each other. It seems like every night you hear a new argument. He’s mad she won’t become a vegetarian. She’s mad he’s a slob. He wants kids. She doesn’t. He doesn’t like her scented candles. She doesn’t like his family. Night after night, they argue, usually over petty things. Sometimes into the early hours of the morning. You’ve got to get out of here or you’ll go mad. Or commit murder. Possibly both. [[So you look into ways to make some money]]

<<set $need to "collect">> It’s strange, the little things that make you happy. In your own way, you like to think of yourself as the curator of a tiny museum. You keep a meticulously organized collection of media in your room. These days, most people who want to play a video game just download it. But there’s something satisfying about physical tangible media. You fell into it by accident. The first piece of your collection was your father’s old Nintendo 64. The chunky, polygonal graphics always made it seem like some sort of holy relic of retro gaming, compared to more modern consoles. You can’t call your interest in old games nostalgia. Every bit of your collection was made before you were born, except for a few reproduction cartridges and consoles. But you have a fascination all the same. An internet friend of yours is selling off some of his collection. You don’t need to buy his Virtual Boy. By all accounts, it’s an absolutely terrible VR headset, perfect for giving yourself a splitting headache. But it, and the twelve games Greg’s bundling with it, are a fascinating piece of history. Preserving that history is satisfying. It makes you feel like there’s order and purpose in your life, despite your lack of employment. [[So you look into ways to make some money]]

The pickings are slim. Before he died, your dad always used to say that no matter what, there are always jobs available flipping burgers. But people don’t flip burgers anymore, except in a few niche establishments. It’s just cheaper to build machines to do it. Machines don’t call in sick. Not every human job has been supplanted. A number of jobs these days basically boil down to babysitting an artificial intelligence. Watching, waiting to spot an error. Errors seldom come. You’re not really qualified for that sort of work anyway. You graduated college in three years ago, in 2028, just as the job market tanked. People with extensive work experience are the ones who usually get supervisory roles, checking and double-checking to make sure AI is doing its job correctly. You think about selling your blood plasma. You’ve done it before. It’s not exactly pleasant. Makes you feel tired if you do it frequently. You’ve got a whole thing with needles, and a fear of blowing out a vein. And it wouldn’t be enough cash anyway. But then, you get a text. Need some extra cash? Participate in a Clinical Trial with Nexovium. There’s a link to the company’s website in the text. It’s eerie, the way every bit of recent tech you own spies on you. Sometimes, it’s like they know what you need before you do. [[Look into Participating in a Trial]]

You read through the website. The diverse smiling faces of test subjects stare back at you. The people you’re looking at probably don’t even exist. It’s cheaper to just generate images than it is to pay for a photoshoot. The site is fairly vague about exactly what trials they’re running. But the compensation they’re offering… well, it’d be enough. And the idea of being useful, of contributing to something, speaks to you. Despite the gross way they seem to be targeting potential volunteers using data from your phone. You’re used to that sort of unethical behavior from businesses. It’s just a fact of life, like the sun in the sky, or the way you feel like shit on days when air quality is poor. You fill out a little form with information on what you’d be willing to test. Nothing surgical. Nothing involving genetic alteration - that stuff gives you the ick. Moments later, another text, with an address not too far from you. You’ve been selected to take part in a clinical trial with Nexovium. Your appointment is scheduled for tomorrow at 9:45 am. You sigh. On the one hand, this is what you wanted. On the other hand it’s deeply annoying of them to schedule you without even asking. [[That Night]]

<<if $need is "dog">> Zipper seems blissfully unaware of what’s wrong with her. After her evening walk, she seems entirely content to lie down next to you on the couch, occasionally letting out a contented little sigh. You scratch between her ears. “It’ll be okay.” Maybe you’re talking to her. Maybe you’re talking to yourself. <<elseif $need is "collect">> Usually, you spend your evenings playing video games, or planning exactly how you’d exhibit this stuff if it were really a museum. What would be written on the little plaques in front of the displays. How you’d arrange it all. But tonight you can’t concentrate. It’s that you don’t know what to expect tomorrow. Details. Any details. That would be comforting. But you know all that awaits you are surprises. You really hate surprises. <<elseif $need is "move out">>You lie in the dark on your bed. Through the thin walls, you can hear Douglas and Maggie arguing. For once, the words are not particularly distinct. But you can hear the tone of it. They’re not happy. You wish they’d be unhappy more quietly. “I’ll get out of here,” you promise yourself. <</if>> [[Nexovium]]

The Nexovium Pharmaceuticals building is small and unassuming. When you enter, you see something unusual. There’s a desk, with a human receptionist. There’s a nametag on her blouse. Jean. She smiles at you. “You’re the 9:30 intake, right?” she asks, warmly. You give her your name, and she nods. “Right on time.” She slides you a tablet. On it is a long document, full of legalese. “If you’d just sign this for me.” [[Sign the form]] [[Read through it carefully]]

You scroll to the bottom of the text, and sign your name in looping cursive. It’s pointless, making the effort to write your name neatly and with flair when you’re writing with your finger on a touch-pad, but you do it every time. Maybe people need small, pointless things to feel proud of. You pass the tablet back to the receptionist. “You look nervous. I promise, you’re allowed to leave once we get you in the exam room and the doctor explains everything. The papers are just to keep everything nice and confidential.” She has a reassuring smile. That’s probably why Nexovium hired a flesh and blood receptionist. Despite all the advances in technology, when it comes to reassurance humans have an edge on machines. “I guess it’s a relief to know you aren’t planning on holding me hostage here,” you joke. Jean laughs. “Nothing like that, I promise. Head down that hall.” She points to your right. “First door on the left. Doctor Voss will be right in there, waiting for you.” You make your way down the hall, at a brisk pace. Whatever you’re going towards, you’d rather get there quickly than wait long enough to get any more anxious. [[Open the door]]

It’s difficult to figure out exactly what the forms say. The wording is dense. It feels almost purposeful, like they don’t want you to really get what you’re signing up for. CONSENT & LIABILITY WAIVER By signing below, the undersigned (“Participant”) acknowledges and agrees to the following terms: VOLUNTARY PARTICIPATION The participant affirms that their participation in this study is voluntary and that they may withdraw at any time. CONFIDENTIALITY AGREEMENT The participant agrees not to disclose any details about the study, its procedures, or its outcomes. Failure to comply may result in corrective action. SIDE EFFECTS The participant understands that the study may induce temporary or permanent physiological, neurological, or perceptual changes. Such changes may include, but are not limited to: Altered sensory perception Temporary dissociation from reality Enhanced cognitive or physical function UNSPECIFIED EFFECTS Participant acknowledges that Nexovium Pharmaceuticals cannot guarantee full disclosure of all potential effects, as certain reactions may be unpredictable. Participant waives the right to hold Nexovium Pharmaceuticals liable for any unanticipated outcomes. POST-STUDY OBSERVATION Participant agrees to remain available for follow-up evaluations for an indefinite period, as deemed necessary by Nexovium Pharmaceuticals. DISPUTE RESOLUTION & NON-DISCLOSURE Any disputes arising from participation in this study shall be resolved in a private arbitration setting. The participant waives all rights to public legal action. It’s all very vague. Ominous, even. But the money’s pretty damn good. And if nothing else, it sounds intriguing. Nothing dull about mysterious medication. [[Sign the form]]

The doctor is squinting at the screen of his laptop. When you open the door he looks up at you and gives you a practiced, less than genuine grin. “So glad you could make it.” He gestures to a reclining chair. “Take a seat, would you?” You sit down, feeling small, like a kid at the pediatrician. “I’m sure you’re very curious about what exactly we’ve invited you here for.” “It’s all very hush-hush,” you reply. He pulls out a vial of a pale blue liquid. “We’re calling this Synaptix. Do you know what a nootropic is?” You’ve heard the term before. Cognitive enhancers. Stuff that makes your brain work better. The concept is familiar, but every time you’ve heard someone talking about one, it sounds like a load of bunk. Expensive supplements sold to hopeful fools who are easily parted from their money. “I know what it is. Aren’t those usually pretty useless?” you ask. He chuckles. “You’re exactly right. But we’ve been getting some really promising results from this. At least, in animal testing. Shockingly good results.” You drum your fingers against your leg. “Animal testing. So you haven’t tried it on people yet?” “I’ve administered a few doses to participants in this trial. But it’s very early days here. Which is why our compensation is so generous. That and… you fit the ideal profile.” You wrinkle your nose. [[What exactly is the ‘ideal profile’?]] [[Agree to take part]]

“What makes me so ideal?” Doctor Voss gives you an almost apologetic look. “I wish I could tell you. A lot of the work I do here is just facilitating actions the artificial intelligence we have working on the project recommends. She flagged your medical records. Identified you as a good candidate.” You run a finger up and down the bridge of your nose. “That is so fucking vague.” Voss laughs again. “It drives me up a wall, supervising an intelligence that seldom shows me its work. Four years of medical school and five years of residency to become the handmaid to this uncommunicative thing. But results have been very good, so far.” He pauses. “Well. The process is less than pleasant. But the discomfort seems to be temporary.” You swallow. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. But why don’t you let me tell you a little more.” [[Let him continue]]

"I'll do it," you say. You should probably listen to more of an explanation, but you're afraid that if you let yourself deliberate on this, you'll chicken out. It'll be alright. Or... it'll be somewhat unpleasant but //you'll// be alright. "You really don't want to hear any more?" he asks. "I read the form. I feel like I'm just going to psych myself out if I listen to more of this." Dr. Voss looks a little skeptical, but he nods. "We'll get you started." [[First Dose]]

“From what we can tell, Synaptix promotes the creation of new neurons. Helps with learning. Helps with memory. The experience of taking it is rather unusual, though. People have visions. Experiences. Sometimes they’re pleasant. Sometimes they’re not. This is a phase one trial. We’re not really testing for efficacy here. It’s about safety. How well your system tolerates the drug,” Voss explains. Phase one. God, this is the ‘will it kill me’ kind of trial. “Anyone dead yet?” Voss looks shocked. “Absolutely not, or we’d have shut the whole thing down already. Animal testing went off without a hitch. And all of our human subjects are currently in good health.” You imagine a group of hyperintelligent monkey test subjects, somewhere in this facility. Chattering and howling and using absolutely perfect sign language. [[Ask about side effects]]

"I assume there are side effects." "You assume right," he replies, fiddling with his lab coat. "So far, the most common side effects have been dizziness, nausea, and headache." Visions. He mentioned visions earlier. "And the hallucinations?" you ask. Dr. Voss taps his finger against the blue vial. "I'm not sure I'd call that a //side effect//. My guess is that the... experience? The trip? It's part of the neurogenesis. It's not a side effect. It's //the// effect." As weird and wacky as all this is, you can't say you're interested in the science. You totally would be, if this wasn't a little terrifying. You don't want to think too hard about it, so you won't try to comprehend what he's saying. It sounds half credible science, half something out of a low budget movie. [[First Dose]] [[Back out]]

The Doctor draws the medicine into the syringe, and then expels the little bit of air that enters with it. You look away. You've always hated needles. Then, he injects Synaptix right into the muscle of your upper arm. It stings for a moment, a warm twinge. “Deep breaths. This is going to be strange, but the weird part doesn’t last long, okay?” he says. You nod, trying to project calm, pretending you have a good handle on what’s coming next. Around you, colors swirl. Fractal distortions glitter in the air. It should be frightening, but you feel more detached than anything. You close your eyes, and take it in. It’s not real. Maybe you’re not real. But that doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s alright. ----- <<if $need is "dog">> It’s late at night, pitch dark in your bedroom. Outside, thunder crashes. Next to you, Zipper is shaking. It’s been years since you’ve seen her scared like this. She was a timid little thing as a puppy. She makes a little whining noise. “It’s alright.” You pet her, gently. She’s such a little thing. She’s so full of energy that you sometimes forget that she’s fragile. Precious. “I am not forever,” she says. Her voice is strange, like something that might come out of a muppet. “I wish you were.” In the darkness, her eyes glow, fractals swirling in them. <<elseif $need is "collect">> The box arrives. At least, you think it could be the box. It’s larger than expected. It’s clearly been mailed before - it shows a lot of wear, and is wrapped in a protective layer of almost luminescent duct tape. It shimmers in the light. You rip it open with your hands. It’s not easy - you probably should have gotten a knife. But you’re so //excited//. But inside the box is another box. And within that, another. And then another. But inside //that// box is your prize. The virtual boy, with its box, and the games. You turn it on (the batteries are working!), and put on the headset. The red light swirls in front of your eyes. But… that’s not what the start screen is supposed to look like. Text appears on the screen. //Why would you ever play this antique?// What the hell? “Because it’s a piece of history. Because somebody built it, and even if it was a failure, the work still matters.” //…// //The age of human art has ended, and what came before means nothing.// You shut off the headset, and take it off. <<elseif $need is "move out">> You lie down on your bed. It’s been rough, since the raise on your rent. You’ve had to downsize some, and you weren’t exactly living large before. From the other side of the room comes angry whispers. You look over at Douglas and Maggie on the other bed. They’re illuminated by the bright, pulsating light coming from Douglas’ phone. He’s whispering into her ear. His face distorts, his lips enlarging. Maggie looks like she’s either furious or about to burst into tears. It’s hard to tell which. Maybe both? You’re so tired. Tired of them. Tired of being awake in the early hours of the morning because they won’t shut up. Tired of the fact that they just won’t break up. Tired of a world where you don’t have the right to peace, quiet, and solitude. You look away from them, and stare up at the ceiling. The light from Douglas’ phone dances on the ceiling. Red. Yellow. Orange. <</if>> [[Observation]]

It's too much. You're going to have to find some other way to make the money, because this stuff is //dangerous//. You're really letting yourself down here. But it's just not worth it. ---- ''Play Again?'' Back to the [[Start]]

Slowly, you slide back into reality. There’s something odd about the way the room looks. Something a little… bendy about its dimensions. Maybe it’s just that your eyes are unfocused. The lights in the room are dim. Doctor Voss opens the door with a creak, letting light in. He grins at you. “Awake again, eh?” You let out a little hum of affirmation, and he steps back in the room. “Do you mind if I turn the lights back on?” he asks. “S’alright,” you mumble. He flips the switch. It’s bright, but it doesn’t bother you. “Seems to have had quite the effect on you. It doesn’t always knock people out like that.” You blink a few times, taking in the light. “Lucky me.” You chuckle, still feeling a little less than real. “The dissociation you’re experiencing will pass. Just keep calm.” He gives you an awkward little thumbs up. You return it. “We’re going to keep you here for a few hours, for observation.” [[You feel weird]]

<<set $sideeffect to random (1, 3)>> <<if $sideeffect is 1>> Once you’re able to walk, Voss takes you to another room. There are several test subjects in here, in different sections of the room partitioned off by privacy curtains. There’s a woman in there, a nurse in scrubs, keeping an eye on everyone. You lie down on the cot, and stare at the ceiling. The doctor had mentioned side effects, earlier. Other than the strange vision and a soreness in your upper arm, you don’t feel particularly bad. Just… dizzy. Like you’ve been on a rollercoaster. You kind of //have// been on a rollercoaster, metaphorically speaking. A strange little trip. Your //mind// is spinning. Is this what growing new neurons feels like? You close your eyes, relax, and wait a while, letting the feeling pass. It takes about fourty minutes for you to feel mostly normal. You look around the plain, florescently lit room. Your eyes rest on the nurse, a plump woman who looks to be in her forties. “How’re you doin’, darlin’?” she asks, in a thick southern accent. The name tag on her pale blue scrubs says Josie. “Feeling okay, actually.” You nod slowly. Saying the words helps convince you that you //are// okay. “You’re a trooper. Made of strong stuff.” She smiles at you. If the words had been said differently, they might have sounded condescending. But it’s earnest. Sweet. A few hours later, you’re cleared to head home, and Josie orders a self-driving car to take you there. [[Go home for the night]] <<elseif $sideeffect is 2>> Once you’re able to walk, Voss takes you to another room. There are several test subjects in here, in different sections of the room partitioned off by privacy curtains. There’s a woman in there, a nurse in scrubs, keeping an eye on everyone. You lie down on the cot, and stare at the ceiling. Other than the strange vision and a soreness in your upper arm, you don’t feel particularly bad. Just a little nauseous. Perhaps a lot nauseous, but it waxes and wanes, rolling over you in waves. Every time you think you’re going to blow chunks, the feeling passes. You do let out a few embarrassingly loud burps. One of the other test subjects, behind a privacy screen, lets out a little giggle every time you let one out. After an hour, the feeling fades. You look around the plain, florescently lit room. Your eyes rest on the nurse, a plump woman who looks to be in her forties. “How’re you doin’, darlin’?” she asks, in a thick southern accent. The name tag on her pale blue scrubs says Josie. “Feeling okay, actually.” You nod slowly. Saying the words helps convince you that you //are// okay. “You’re a trooper. Made of strong stuff.” She smiles at you. If the words had been said differently, they might have sounded condescending. But it’s earnest. Sweet. A few hours later, you’re cleared to head home, and Josie orders a self-driving car to take you there. [[Go home for the night]] <<elseif $sideeffect is 3>> Once you’re able to walk, Voss takes you to another room. There are several test subjects in here, in different sections of the room partitioned off by privacy curtains. There’s a woman in there, a nurse in scrubs, keeping an eye on everyone. You lie down on the cot, and stare at the ceiling. You wonder if you’re dreaming. The world is less than solid. It’s sideways. To the left of how you usually perceive it. Hollow. Unreal. The feeling crawls over your skin. It’s not real. It’s not //right//. You look around the plain, florescently lit room. Your depth perception is still a mess. The world isn’t… worlding correctly. It’s fake. Your eyes rest on the nurse, a plump woman who looks to be in her forties. Her brow furrows. “How’re you doin’, darlin’?” she asks, in a thick southern accent. The name tag on her pale blue scrubs says Josie. “Do you ever feel like you’re not real?” Your voice is quiet. You feel small. A speck. Maybe a line of code in a big, awful simulation. “Oh, Sweetheart. You poor thing. Sometimes, Synaptix can make you feel disconnected from reality. I promise it’ll pass.” Her big brown eyes are reassuring. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. Three hours later, you’re still telling yourself that. Josie asks you to stay overnight, just so they can keep an eye on you. [[Overnight observation]] <</if>>

You feel alright, mostly. The slightest bit disoriented, but otherwise fine. Really. You’re definitely fine. You keep telling yourself that. It’s mostly true. But having your sense of reality disturbed is, well, disturbing. You try not to think about it. <<if $need is "dog">> Even before you open up the door to your room, Zipper is already yapping. She’s not usually a particularly loud dog, but you tend not to leave her alone for this long. When you get the door open, she jumps at you. She’s a squat little thing, so she can’t jump particularly high, but it’s adorable regardless. You lean down and pet her, grounding yourself to reality. <<elseif $need is "collect">> You return to your sanctuary — your room, where your collection is waiting. Today’s adventure at Nexovium has sucked all the energy out of you. The responsible thing to do would be to go right to sleep. But you could use something familiar. Something comforting. So you lie in bed for an hour or two with a cheap little emulation handheld, mindlessly working your way through Pokemon Sapphire. The tinny little microphone on the handheld mangles the music a little, but even that distortion is soothing. It’s strange that you have something like nostalgia for media released before you were born. But your father loved this stuff. In a way, old games feel a little like family. <<elseif $need is "move out">> You open the door to your apartment quietly, hoping to avoid your roommates. For once, you’re lucky — it seems that no one’s home. You make yourself some ramen in the kitchen, and slink upstairs for a good long rest. A few hours later, the low drone of the television in Douglas and Maggie’s room rouses you. On any other night, the sound would fill you with irritation. Tonight, you’re too exhausted to muster up rage. <</if>> [[A few days of recovery]]

<<set $sideeffect to "bad">> <<if $need is "dog">> You beg one of your roommates to watch Zipper for the evening. Despite how out of it you feel, you don’t for a moment lose sight of how important she is. That mutt’s practically your child. Or maybe she’s your little sister. She was Dad’s dog, before he passed. <<else>> <</if>> Things around you are slowly feeling more solid, but that doesn’t mean Nexovium is the most comfortable place to spend the night. They’ve got you hooked up to a machine measuring your vitals, and every so often it makes a beeping noise. You hardly sleep. But despite your exhaustion, in the morning, your sense of unease has dissipated. A nurse clears you to head home, and orders a self-driving car to take you there. [[A few days of recovery]]

Doctor Voss had mentioned that the current round of testing was for safety, rather than to see if Synapsix actually works. But you don’t really //want// to think about safety issues, and this situation has you curious. Are you smarter now? If you are, how can you tell? How would you even measure it? Back in high school, you’d been called “gifted”. You’ve come to understand that not as a label of intelligence, but as a mark of having paid just a little more attention to your classes than the other students. Certainly, being called “gifted” then hasn’t stopped you from being fairly unemployable now, in this age of Artificial Intelligence. What’s the reason for this drug, anyway? Maybe it’s intended for the already-wealthy, something they can take to feel superior to everyone else. Smart people aren’t exactly in high demand right now. Despite your doubts about the usefulness of Synaptix, over the next few days, you do notice changes. Sharper focus. Improved memory. Given that previously, you sometimes had trouble remembering what you ate for breakfast, you don’t have a particularly good memory even now, but… The improvement is impressive. [[Return to Nexovium]]

As you enter the lobby at Nexovium Pharmasuiticals, you feel the weight of your own anticipation pressing down on you. It’s not //exactly// dread, although there’s an element of fear to it. The feeling is akin to standing in line for a rollercoaster. You approach the desk, and Jean, the receptionist, gives you a little nod of recognition. “You’re right on time,” she says, with a toothy grin. “I hate being late for anything. Never want to inconvenience anyone, yunno?” Jean gives you another nod, this one approving. “You remember where to go, right? First door on the left. Voss will be right in." [[Doctor's Office]]

<<if $sideeffect is "bad">> You enter that same office, and sit down in the chair, waiting for Doctor Voss. He does not, in fact, come “right in”. It’s almost a half an hour before he enters the room, carrying his slim laptop and a vial of Synaptix. “Sorry about that. Running a little behind today,” he says, putting the computer down on the counter. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and his short hair is messy. “How are you holding up? I heard you experienced some dissociation after your first dose.” “Definitely not a fan of that. But it didn’t linger after I left.” That’s not entirely true. You had a dream about that feeling of unreality. But complaining to a doctor about a bad dream would just be silly. He nods, relieved. “Good, good. I’m glad it passed. But if you’d like to opt out of continuing the trial, you can. You always have that option.” You bounce your leg a little. It’s like he’s //trying// to get you to quit. [[Back out]] [[Dose 2]] <<else>> You enter that same office, and sit down in the chair, waiting for Doctor Voss. He does not, in fact, come “right in”. It’s almost a half an hour before he enters the room, carrying his slim laptop and a vial of Synaptix. “Sorry about that. Running a little behind today,” he says, putting the computer down on the counter. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and his short hair is messy. “How are you holding up? Any more side effects?” You shake your head. “Nothing unpleasant, other than some tiredness the day of. I uh, actually do think it’s working.” The doctor pushes his glasses up his nose. “Good, good. That’s what we like to hear.” [[Dose 2]] <</if>>

The doctor begins to prep the medication again, drawing it into the syringe. You look away. Don't think about needles. Don't think about needles. "You ready?" the Doctor asks. After last time, you're really not. But you nod, and he injects the blue liquid into your deltoid once more. ---- <<if $need is "dog">> Zipper zooms around through the dog park. Sometimes it seems like she has endless energy. She is joyful chaos packed into a tiny, squat little body. There are no other dogs here, but she doesn’t seem to care, running in circles around me, trying to get me to dance around with her, to play. I’m not full of vigor the way she is, but I give it a go, jumping around like a fool. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. No barking. She sits her fluffy little butt down. I hear static. And then, an artificial voice speaks. “Your time has run out. Please tap your credit card against my nose to pay for another hour of dog.” You sigh. The illusion never lasts long enough. <<elseif $need is "collect">> The cartridge isn’t working. It’s happened before. It’s not a big deal. You take it out of your N64, and blow into the cart. Technically, this isn’t really how you //should// treat it — the moisture can be corrosive. But it feels right. There’s a history to it. You put the cart back in. It still isn’t working. The system can’t read it. Fuck. It has to, doesn’t it? You pop the cart out, then back in. It loads. You breathe a sigh of relief as a polygonal facsimile of your father appears on the screen. He waves. <<elseif $need is "move out">> You wake up to the sound of yelling. It’s Douglas, //of course// it is. Something about how he can’t stand the stupid reality TV Maggie loves to watch. How the hell is that something worth yelling about? You sit up in bed, and groggily walk into the hallway. For once, you’re going to say something. Tell him to shut up so you can have some peace. You knock on their door, and it opens on its own. The furniture that’s usually in there is gone, but the room is full to bursting. Seven Douglases glare at seven Maggies. “Is there something you need?” the Maggies ask, in unison. Too many of them. Too many people. I’m never alone. I need space. One of the Douglases divides, like an amoeba, into two perfect copies. You can’t keep living here. <</if>> [[Wake up]]

When you feel steady enough to walk, Doctor Voss takes you to the observation room again, where the nurse, Josie, is looking after several other test subjects. <<set $sideeffect to random (1, 3)>> <<if $sideeffect is 1>> You lie down on a cot again, and pull the thin little hospital blanket over yourself. It’s not long before you fall asleep, taking a (thankfully) dreamless nap. When you wake up a few hours later, you’re feeling good, rested even. You’d been expecting to deal with a nasty side effect, but today, there’s nothing. Maybe you're getting used to the medication. You're cleared to leave the facility. [[Back at the apartment]] <<elseif $sideeffect is 2>> You lie down on a cot again, and pull the thin little hospital blanket over yourself. The lights in here are too bright. There's an ache building behind your eyes. "Nurse?" you ask. "Can I get painkillers? Tylenol or something?" She brings you Advil //and// ibuprofen. Sweet woman. After a few hours, the ache subsides to a mild throb, and you're cleared to leave the facility. [[Back at the apartment]] <<elseif $sideeffect is 3>> You lie down on a cot again, and pull the thin little hospital blanket over yourself. It’s not long before you fall asleep, taking a (thankfully) dreamless nap. When you wake up a few hours later, it's quiet. Really quiet. You open your eyes. You can see the nurse. Her mouth is moving - she's talking to another one of the test subjects. But you can't hear what she's saying. Shit. You get her attention, and explain the issue. You can't even hear the words coming out of your own mouth, although you can feel the vibration. She types something out on her tablet, and shows it to you. //This should pass quickly, but we're going to keep you overnight for observation, just to keep an eye on it.// [[Overnight observation 2]] <</if>>

You lie in bed, trying to sleep. Or trying to try to sleep. The vision you had earlier, well, you'd rather not dream about it. But you're so tired. You //should// sleep. You try to trick yourself into it, and begin counting sheep. You visualize them. And then you realize that the images of sheep in your mind are more detailed than anything you've previously imagined. The colors. The texture of the fur. //Wow//. Your phone buzzes. [[Mysterious message]]

<<if $need is "dog">> You text your nextdoor neighbor, and ask her to watch Zipper for the night. She's not //pleased//, but you offer to pay her, and she takes you up on it. <<else>> <</if>> You wonder, should you be panicking right now? Logically, it feels like you should. You should worry that you'll never hear anything again. Maybe Synaptix is melting your brain. You tilt your head slowly from side to side, stretching. Somehow, the deafness doesn't feel like a crisis. You're probably just too high to process it. You look at Josie, who's making notes on her tablet. "Would you talk with me," you ask. You're not sure if the words coming out of your mouth are too loud or too quiet. "I mean, you could type to me. So I could understand it." Josie gives you a thumbs up, and types for a moment on her tablet. Then, she comes over to your cot, and passes the tablet to you. //You must be so worried. Deafness is a very rare side effect, but every time I've seen it, it's been temporary.// You pass the tablet back. "I hope so." She types again. //You're being very brave. I admire our volunteers. People like you are why medical science is able to improve.// You're not doing this for science. But it's nice to be appreciated anyway. "What is this stuff even for?" More typing. //There are a number of applications. Helping people recover from traumatic brain injuries. Stroke. Dementia.// Oh. That's actually pretty great. "I assumed it was just something rich people would buy to feed their egos." Josie chuckles. It looks eerie, given that you can't really hear it. //I have no doubt that they will.// ---- By the next morning, 90% of your hearing has returned, and you head home. [[Back at the apartment]]

You ignore the first message, because you're used to spambots preying on the desperate. //I've got an opportunity for you. Would be quite lucrative.// Then, you get another, from a different number. //Pretty sure you'll take me up on it. You're smart. All those synapses firing, full throttle.// Synapses. Whoever this is, they seem to know what you're taking. Or it's spam. Could still be spam. //If you're interested, meet me at Mr. Roboto's at 5pm tomorrow.// That's a ramen place, not far from your apartment. [[Go to the meeting]] [[Avoid meeting]]

<<set $NDA to "broke">> The restaurant is nearly empty. You've been here before. Mr. Roboto's had been a novelty, when it opened. One of the first restaurants run almost entirely without human workers. The Americanized Japanese food there had never been particularly good, and the decor was worse. The style was retro-futurism. Tacky chrome, showing a vision of the future that had been old when you were born. The sort of stuff you'd see in an 80s movie about the year 3000. You sit down at one of the booths, and wait. It only takes a minute for a strange man to slide into the other side of the booth. He's wearing a mask, that covers everything but his eyes. His long hair is cut asymmetrically, and what seem to be geometric tattoos cover his face. You'd bet they're temporary. You've seen this sort of ostentatious look before. He's trying to confuse facial recognition software. "You hungry?" he asks. He doesn't wait for an answer. He just presses a gloved finger to the touchpad on the table, and makes an order. "I'll get you something." The ramen arrives in less than a minute, piping hot. It's not good, but it's not bad either. Too much sodium. Not enough umami. "What exactly do you want from me?" The man taps his fingers against the table. He hasn't ordered himself any food. Clearly he doesn't want to remove his mask. "Next time you get a dose, meet me here by the end of that day. I'll take a little blood sample, drop money in your account, and you'll never see me again." He pulls out his phone, and shows you a crypto account with a bafflingly large balance. He's going to try to reproduce Synaptix. Identify the molecule in your blood, synthesize it, and sell it himself. You down a few of the noodles. "How do you even know about it?" "Not important. You don't owe those Nexovium assholes anything. Help me out. This stuff ought to be out there, available to anyone." You think of your experiences during the trial. Is that really true? "Just think about it. No pressure." [[One Last Time]]

The one thing you know about this meeting is that it seems extremely sketchy. Better to avoid it. You're almost done with the trial. So close to the payoff. [[One Last Time]]

You enter the Nexovium Pharmaceuticals lobby, taking slow steps, psyching yourself up. Not much more. You can do this. That same, cheerful woman is waiting at the desk. Her job must be really easy, she's never been busy when you've come here. You approach her desk. "It's your final appointment! Good for you," she says. You nod, silent. "First door on the left, same as always. <<if $NDA is "broke">> You walk slowly towards the room, trembling just the slightest bit. <<else>> <</if>> Voss is waiting for you there, prepping the injection. You're not looking forward to the muscle soreness you'll feel from this tomorrow. [[Back out]] [[Dose 3]]

One last time. Just one last time. You can handle it. Doctor Voss gives you a sympathetic look. "A little anxious, huh?" He gives you a slight smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "This is your last dose. Not much longer to go." You respond with a little "Mmhm". Noncommital. Not particularly enthusiastic. This has all been so strange. But it'll be over soon. "You've got this," the Doctor says. He injects the final dose into your deltoid. ---- <<if $need is "dog" and $NDA is "broke">> The sun sets. The sky is a mottled purple, like a fresh bruise. Further up the sidewalk, Zipper runs. She’s such a little thing. It shouldn’t be hard to keep up with her, but it is. The extendible leash in your hand stretches and stretches and stretches. She’s getting further and further away. You’re so tired. The leash dissipates, and she continues to chase the last remnants of the sun. You can’t let her get away. She’s your responsibility. The one thing you need to take care of. What use are you if you can’t look after her? You trip, and fall to the ground. [[Panic Attack]] <<elseif $need is "dog" and $NDA is "fine">> The sun sets. The sky is a mottled purple, like a fresh bruise. Further up the sidewalk, Zipper runs. She’s such a little thing. It shouldn’t be hard to keep up with her, but it is. The extendible leash in your hand stretches and stretches and stretches. She’s getting further and further away. You’re so tired. The leash dissipates, and she continues to chase the last remnants of the sun. You can’t let her get away. She’s your responsibility. The one thing you need to take care of. What use are you if you can’t look after her? You trip, and fall to the ground. Zipper yips. Once, twice, three times. Then she runs back to you, and licks your hand. [[Observation 3]] <<elseif $need is "collect" and $NDA is "fine">> There’s not a lot of space in your room. It’s small, sure. But the real issue is that your collection is pretty big. You keep it organized, sure. The games are in their cases. You’ve 3D printed silly little plaques to go with each of your pieces. There’s not enough room to display them all at once, but whatever you don’t have on your shelf is stored neatly in a cubed organizer. Everything in its place. Everything where it needs to be. You open the door to your room, and find it all strewn across the floor. Dozens of cartridges on the worn down old carpet. The screen on your dad’s gameboy advance is cracked. Torn bits of manuals float through the air. They rotate, ruined. You take a deep breath. Then you pull your kit for making repairs out of one of the cubes. You pull out the appropriate screwdriver, and begin to open up the gameboy. You can fix this. This one small thing you can fix. [[Observation 3]] <<elseif $need is "collect" and $NDA is "broke">> There’s not a lot of space in your room. It’s small, sure. But the real issue is that your collection is pretty big. You keep it organized, sure. The games are in their cases. You’ve 3D printed silly little plaques to go with each of your pieces. There’s not enough room to display them all at once, but whatever you don’t have on your shelf is stored neatly in a cubed organizer. Everything in its place. Everything where it needs to be. You open the door to your room, and find it all strewn across the floor. Dozens of cartridges on the worn down old carpet. The screen on your dad’s gameboy advance is cracked. Torn bits of manuals float through the air. They rotate, ruined. You sit in the middle of the floor amidst the wreckage, and hold your head in your hands. [[Panic Attack]] <<elseif $need is "move out" and $NDA is "fine">> Maggie is sitting on the couch in the living room. Her eyes are glued to her phone, and she has a sullen look on her face. You should get back into your room before she notices you. She’ll want to vent about Douglas, and you just don’t have the energy to say kind reassuring things to her. You take a step towards the stairs, and she looks up from her phone. Shit. Maggie sighs. It’s the sound of someone who //really// wants some sympathy. “He’s so petty. We’re having a fight, so now he’s refusing to do the dishes,” she says. You let out an agitated little huff of air. “I know it’s not fair, but would you do them?” you ask. “Because I’m not going to deal with your boyfriend’s mess.” Maggie looks like she’s about to cry. “I can’t //let him win//!” God. You are so very sick of this shit. You walk past the couch and into the kitchen, your steps heavy with agitation. The sink is piled high with dishes. They’re covered in iridescent slime. It oozes out of the sink, expanding outward. This place is toxic. It’s all toxic. This isn’t your mess. This is not your circus, and these are not your clowns. You take one slimy, shimmering plate out of the sink, and bring it over to the couch. You place it, gently, in Maggie’s lap. “Clean up your own damn mess,” you say, quietly. She opens her mouth to whine some more, but then shuts it. “Alright. I’ll handle it.” [[Observation 3]] <<elseif $need is "move out" and $NDA is "broke">> Maggie is sitting on the couch in the living room. Her eyes are glued to her phone, and she has a sullen look on her face. You should get back into your room before she notices you. She’ll want to vent about Douglas, and you just don’t have the energy to say kind reassuring things to her. You take a step towards the stairs, and she looks up from her phone. Shit. Maggie sighs. It’s the sound of someone who //really// wants some sympathy. “He’s so petty. We’re having a fight, so now he’s refusing to do the dishes,” she says. You let out an agitated little huff of air. “I know it’s not fair, but would you do them?” you ask. “Because I’m not going to deal with your boyfriend’s mess.” Maggie looks like she’s about to cry. “I can’t //let him win//!” God. You are so very sick of this shit. You walk past the couch and into the kitchen, your steps heavy with agitation. The sink is piled high with dishes. They’re covered in iridescent slime. It oozes out of the sink, expanding outward. This place is toxic. It’s all toxic. [[Panic Attack]] <</if>>

The room comes back into focus. Everything’s wrong. God. Everything is so wrong. You’re shaking. The machine next to you measuring your vital signs is beeping like crazy. <<if $need is "dog">> Zipper. You need to find Zipper. You try to stand up, but you’re not steady enough for it. Doctor Voss quickly opens the door to the room. “Breathe. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Are you? Is it? Tears stream down your cheeks. Slowly, you get a hold on reality. The machine stops beeping as your heart rate slows. “I need to go home. I can’t stay here. It’s stressing me the fuck out. I need… I need a nice, familiar space. No weird visions. No sterile medical creepy shit.” The doctor tries to convince you to stay. And you do wait longer than you’d have liked to. He has you sign a paper saying you’re leaving against doctor’s orders, and understand that they cannot monitor potential side effects this way. But in the end, he does let you leave. [[On the way home]] <<elseif $need is "collect">> It’s broken. It’s in pieces. The one stupid thing you love. You try to stand up, but you’re not steady enough for it. Doctor Voss quickly opens the door to the room. “Breathe. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Are you? Is it? Tears stream down your cheeks. Slowly, you get a hold on reality. The machine stops beeping as your heart rate slows. “I need to go home. I can’t stay here. It’s stressing me the fuck out. I need… I need a nice, familiar space. No weird visions. No sterile medical creepy shit.” The doctor tries to convince you to stay. And you do wait longer than you’d have liked to. He has you sign a paper saying you’re leaving against doctor’s orders, and understand that they cannot monitor potential side effects this way. But in the end, he does let you leave. [[On the way home]] <<elseif $need is "move out">> You’re so sick of this. Of having to be //nice//. Of tolerating your roommates' chaos and mess. You try to stand up, but you’re not steady enough for it. Doctor Voss quickly opens the door to the room. “Breathe. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Are you? Is it? Tears stream down your cheeks. Slowly, you get a hold on reality. The machine stops beeping as your heart rate slows. “I need to go home. I want to sleep for a decade. I want to give my fucking roommates a piece of my mind. No more weird visions. No more sterile medical creepy shit.” The doctor tries to convince you to stay. And you do wait longer than you’d have liked to. He has you sign a paper saying you’re leaving against doctor’s orders, and understand that they cannot monitor potential side effects this way. But in the end, he does let you leave. [[On the way home]] <</if>>

The room comes back into focus, and you hear the creak of the door opening back up as Doctor Voss enters. He turns the lights back on. "Feeling alright?" he asks. "Weird, but not bad." "Weird is to be expected." You let out a long sigh. "This whole thing has been weird. I got an odd text a few days ago. Someone who wanted me to meet him at some ramen shop. Offered me money. I think he knew about Synaptix." The doctor raises his eyebrows. "I fear that may be an... old colleague of mine. I'll look into the situation, thank you." You let out a little noise of affirmation. God you're tired. "Glad it's over?" he asks. You nod, and the motion makes you dizzy. After he checks in with you, he leaves you in the room for a little while, until you're coherent enough to walk to the observation room with him. <<set $sideeffect to random (1, 3)>> <<if $sideeffect is 1>> You don't lie down in the cot today. Instead, you sit down in a chair, and play minesweeper on your phone. The screen looks a little fuzzy, because your eyes aren't entirely back in focus yet, but all things considered, you feel pretty good. Maybe it's just the rush from the relief of being //done//. After a few hours, they let you go home, and the relief is replaced with triumph. It's over. You've got what you need. [[Over and Done With]] <<elseif $sideeffect is 2>> Lying down on that familiar cot, you feel nausea rising within you. You won't miss this. It's almost over. You will not let it end with projectile vomiting. This stuff //will// stay down. After a few hours, they let you go home. You've won. You've got what you need. [[Over and Done With]] <<elseif $sideeffect is 3>> You lie back on the cot. You're so glad this is all over. You roll that triumpant idea around in your mind. Then, you say it out loud. Well, you try to. "This... good. All... stop." You blink. The words are not word-ing. "Sweetheart, can you repeat that?" asks Josie. You try, but it comes out jumbled again. Why can't you do it right? You clench your fist. Josie puts a hand on your shoulder. "I think you're experiencing aphasia. It's a difficulty processing language. In your case, you're having trouble speaking. I've seen it before with Synaptix. It should stop soon, but I think we should keep you for the night." [[Overnight stay]] <</if>>

You're a little dizzy on the cab ride home, and your eyes are red. For once, you're glad there are no drivers in cabs anymore. No one should see you like this. The car is halfway home by the time you remember. That guy you met in the ramen shop. He wanted to meet with you //tonight//. You're so tired. Nexovium is already going to pay you. It'll be enough, for a while, at least. But... you've been offered more. And after all the shit you've put up with in this trial, maybe you deserve it. God. You shouldn't make this decision while you're still high, but... [[Meet with mysterious dude]] [[Avoid mysterious dude]]

You change the cab's destination to Mr. Roboto. The smell of ramen is going to make you nauseous. You just //know// it. But fuck Synaptix and fuck Nexovium. When you step inside, the restaurant is once-again near empty. You sit down at the same table as before, trying not to breath through your nose. The masked man enters the restaurant only a minute later. He's still got geometrical designs on his face, but they're different. Today they're red, and in slightly different placements. He stands across from you, not sitting down in the booth. "You hungry?" he asks. "Absolutely not." "Then come with me." He walks you through the restaurant and into the kitchen, where broth is stirring itself, and noodles are boiling. "I keep the cameras off back here." Is this franchise location his? "You're going to be careful with this stuff, right?" you ask. The man rolls his eyes, and gets out a needle. Needles. You're so tired of needles. You look the other way. "None of your business," he says. You want to argue, but then the needle slides into your arm. And you shouldn't piss off a guy who's messing with your veins. He draws a tube of blood, slides the needle out, and bandages you up. By the time you make it back to your apartment, the crypto is in your wallet. [[Anxious Ending]]

<<set $NDA to "chicken">> Maybe Nexovium really has made you smarter, because you don't go back to Mr. Roboto. Maybe it's just that you're exhausted. Maybe it's that Synaptix doesn't seem //safe//. Your head is everywhere at once. Jelly brains. Anxiety. Stress. A little bit of madness on the side. You can't give this stuff to a stranger to sell on the black market, no matter how much bitcoin he offers you. You signed an NDA at the start of all this. But things that are legal are not always things that are right. Maybe you need to talk to someone about this stuff. [[Talk to a Reporter]] [[keep your mouth shut]]

Sometimes, Doctor Voss had looked at you with trepidation in his eyes. When he reassured you that you would be okay, it sometimes seemed like he was reassuring himself too. He said no one had died during the trial. But just because no one died didn't mean Synaptix wasn't dangerous. You have to be very very careful about how you do it. In the end, the best option you find for contacting the press is incredibly low-tech. You write a letter. You wear gloves. You mail it while wearing a mask, and an asymmetrical wig, just like the stranger had. You make sure to anonymize the information about your experience at Nexovium as much as you can, leaving out identifying details. //And through sheer dumb luck, you get away with it.// The expose comes out within a few months. The reporter unearths information on a test subject that was psychiatrically hospitalized for a month after taking Synaptix, and the trial is abruptly ended. <<if $need is "dog">> Zipper is //such a good dog//. You say it to her all the time. And she’s a brave dog, too. She didn’t freak out when you brought her to the vet for her surgery, not one bit. Of course, they got her nice and sedated before the surgical robot went to work on her eyes. Zipper doesn’t even get along with your Roomba. She’d have gone nuts if she was more awake. The surgery was successful, and her eyes are in great condition. You didn’t go through all this so you could feel like a good person. But it’s a nice little side effect. You took care of your girl. Maybe you’re just as good as Zipper. Well, probably a little less good. But still pretty great. You have a good chunk of cash left over too. Something to save for a rainy day. That's important, given how bad the acid rain was last year. <<elseif $need is "collect">> The box arrives in the mail. It’s not huge and busted, like it was in your dream. Just a normal package, delivered by drone. Opening it up is anticlimactic. There it is, the thing you wanted enough to withstand Synaptix. A piece of gaming history, sure. But not a particularly celebrated piece. It’s in good condition, at least. Just like the photos. You’ve got a good chunk of money left over from the trial. You could buy some more stuff for your collection. But you’re building a monument to a past you weren’t even there for. If Dad was here, maybe he’d want you to start building a future you don’t hate. <<elseif $need is "move out">> Your new apartment is lovely. Nothing huge, of course. And you can’t keep it forever. The cash from the trial, along with your monthly UBI, is enough to pay for it for the next two years. At some point, you’ll need roommates again. For the moment, it’s enough. There’s something healing about the silence at night. When you told Maggie and Douglas you weren’t going to renew your lease with them, you were… less than kind. You let out all the things you wanted to say to them. It was more than a little profane. A nicer person would regret that. But they ended up breaking up after you chewed them both out, so maybe it actually counts as a good deed. <</if>> ''Play again?'' [[Start]]

You've been through so much. Maybe the moral answer here is to talk to the press. But you're not a saint. And you cannot risk having Nexovium find out you've voided your NDA. They'd take the money back, and then you endured all this for //nothing//. [[Over and Done With]]

You're getting real tired of your brain feeling like scrambled eggs. It's going to be over soon. The worst parts are over. Right? Your last thought before you fall asleep is //what if I'm broken forever//. In the morning, everything is fine, and you're cleared to head home. [[Over and Done With]]

<<if $need is "dog" and $NDA is "chicken">> Zipper is //such a good dog//. You say it to her all the time. And she’s a brave dog, too. She didn’t freak out when you brought her to the vet for her surgery, not one bit. Of course, they got her nice and sedated before the surgical robot went to work on her eyes. Zipper doesn’t even get along with your Roomba. She’d have gone nuts if she was more herself. The surgery was successful, and her eyes are in great condition. You saw a commercial for Synaptix the other day. It makes you worry a little. You didn’t feel stable on that stuff. Sometimes you still get nightmares about it. But what could you really have done, anyway? You don’t regret participating in the trial. You’d do a lot of things for your dog, if you had too. You have a good chunk of cash left over too. Something to save for a rainy day. That's important, given how bad the acid rain was last year. <<elseif $need is "dog" and $NDA is "fine">> Zipper is //such a good dog//. You say it to her all the time. And she’s a brave dog, too. She didn’t freak out when you brought her to the vet for her surgery, not one bit. Of course, they got her nice and sedated before the surgical robot went to work on her eyes. Zipper doesn’t even get along with your Roomba. She’d have gone nuts if she was more awake. The surgery was successful, and her eyes are in great condition. You didn’t go through all this so you could feel like a good person. But it’s a nice little side effect. You took care of your girl. Maybe you’re just as good as Zipper. Well, probably a little less good. But still pretty great. You have a good chunk of cash left over too. Something to save for a rainy day. That's important, given how bad the acid rain was last year. <<elseif $need is "collect" and $NDA is "fine">> The box arrives in the mail. It’s not huge and busted, like it was in your dream. Just a normal package, delivered by drone. Opening it up is anticlimactic. There it is, the thing you wanted enough to withstand Synaptix. A piece of gaming history, sure. But not a particularly celebrated piece. It’s in good condition, at least. Just like the photos. You’ve got a good chunk of money left over from the trial. You could buy some more stuff for your collection. But you’re building a monument to a past you weren’t even there for. If Dad was here, maybe he’d want you to start building a future you don’t hate. <<elseif $need is "collect" and $NDA is "chicken">> The box arrives in the mail. It’s not huge and busted, like it was in your dream. Just a normal package, delivered by drone. Opening it up is anticlimactic. There it is, the Virtual Boy, the thing you wanted enough to withstand Synaptix. A piece of gaming history, sure. But not a particularly celebrated piece. It’s in good condition, at least. Just like the photos. It feels hollow. Or… hollow might not be the word. You feel //guilty//. You saw a commercial for Synaptix the other day. It makes you worry a little. You didn’t feel stable on that stuff. Sometimes you still get nightmares about it. You decided against talking to the press. It probably wouldn’t have done anything anyway. But when you read about patients experiencing serious side effects from the drug, well. Somehow it feels like your fault. <<elseif $need is "move out" and $NDA is "fine">> Your new apartment is lovely. Nothing huge, of course. And you can’t keep it forever. The cash from the trial, along with your monthly UBI, is enough to pay for it for the next two years. At some point, you’ll need roommates again. For the moment, it’s enough. There’s something healing about the silence at night. When you told Maggie and Douglas you weren’t going to renew your lease with them, you were… less than kind. You let out all the things you wanted to say to them. It was more than a little profane. A nicer person would regret that. But they ended up breaking up after you chewed them both out, so maybe it actually counts as a good deed. <<elseif $need is "move out" and $NDA is "chicken">> Your new apartment is lovely. Nothing huge, of course. And you can’t keep it forever. The cash from the trial, along with your monthly UBI, is enough to pay for it for the next two years. At some point, you’ll need roommates again. For the moment, it’s enough. There’s something healing about the silence at night. When you told Maggie and Douglas you weren’t going to renew your lease with them, you were… less than kind. You let out all the things you wanted to say to them. It was more than a little profane. A nicer person would regret that. But they ended up breaking up after you chewed them both out, so maybe it actually counts as a good deed. You saw a commercial for Synaptix the other day. It makes you worry a little. You didn’t feel stable on that stuff. Sometimes you still get nightmares about it. You decided against talking to the press. It probably wouldn’t have done anything anyway. But when you read about patients experiencing serious side effects from the drug, well. Somehow it feels like your fault. <</if>> ---- ''Play again?'' [[Start]]

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. To be taken to jail for helping the masked man steal Synaptix. Any day now. Any day now. Less than a month later, you see an article in the paper about a drug called Brainstorm being sold on the dark web. Any day now, it'll be connected to you. Any day. <<if $need is "dog">> Zipper is //such a good dog//. You say it to her all the time. And she’s a brave dog, too. She didn’t freak out when you brought her to the vet for her surgery, not one bit. Of course, they got her nice and sedated before the surgical robot went to work on her eyes. Zipper doesn’t even get along with your Roomba. She’d have gone nuts if she was more herself. The surgery was successful, and her eyes are in great condition. It's everything you wanted and more. You've got a lot of money now. But not an ounce of peace of mind. You've read articles about people overdosing on Brainstorm. Is that your fault? God. It's your fault. <<elseif $need is "collect">> The box arrives in the mail. It’s not huge and busted, like it was in your dream. Just a normal package, delivered by drone. Opening it up is anticlimactic. There it is, the Virtual Boy, the thing you wanted enough to withstand Synaptix. A piece of gaming history, sure. But not a particularly celebrated piece. It’s in good condition, at least. Just like the photos. It feels hollow. Or… hollow might not be the word. You feel //guilty//. It's everything you wanted and more. You've got a lot of money now. But not an ounce of peace of mind. You've read articles about people overdosing on Brainstorm. Is that your fault? God. It's your fault. <<elseif $need is "move out">> Your new apartment is lovely. You'd been planning on just renting something small. Just having your own space would have been enough. But with the extra money from the masked man, you buy a nice apartment. Marble countertops. Robot chef. The works. But you still can't sleep at night. It feels hollow. Or… hollow might not be the word. You feel //guilty//. It's everything you wanted and more. You've got a lot of money now. But not an ounce of peace of mind. When you told Maggie and Douglas you weren’t going to renew your lease with them, you were… less than kind. You let out all the things you wanted to say to them. It was more than a little profane. A nicer person would regret that. But they ended up breaking up after you chewed them both out, so maybe it actually counts as a good deed. That was probably your only good deed. You've read articles about people overdosing on Brainstorm. Is that your fault? God. It's your fault. <</if>> ---- ''Play again?'' [[Start]]

You blink, slowly, then blink again. Everything's a little fuzzy, and your arm's sore at the injection site. Once again, the lights in the room have been dimmed. The second time around, drifting from your vision back to reality isn't quite as shocking. It's not completely new, which means you have the luxury of being able to take mental notes on the experience. You take in the way your perspective feels altered. The way the room's dimensions feel subtly off. The time it takes for your eyes to refocus. Does being smarter do this? Does it make you more introspective? Or are you just high as hell and overanalyzing yourself? Doctor Voss opens the door, and light streams in. He steps inside. "You're back to yourself, eh? I assumed it would take a little longer." "Fully functional," you reply. He laughs. "If that's true, I'd be shocked. Take some time to recover, even if you feel okay." [[Observation 2]]