Chapter Nine

The bright red tint of your Heads Up Display scratches at your artificial retinas, sending a spike of discomfort through your skull; the chilling waters of the damaged showerhead, which is more tape than plastic, do little to diminish the growing migraine that threatens to spoil your day.

- Administer 10 milligrams of Rizatriptan: Do not exceed 30 milligrams -

The scrolling textbox at the bottom of your vision transitions from reporting about another shooting to providing medical advice on what medicines and how much of it you should use for self-treatment, an advantage of having a piece of metal lodged in your skull if there was any.

You take note to search the kitchenette drawers for anything resembling heavy painkillers as you twist the shower-dial close; your body, with its slight musculature from a life of physically demanding labours, shivers as the cold droplets slide across your tanned skin, the warm morning aiding you in quickly drying down.

It is common for you to wake up hours before your family. Five in the morning may be considered scandalously early for most.

Still, your work requires you to take numerous separate buses and trams on your commute to work, disregarding the customary thirty minutes you spend at the dining table, mustering up the will to prosecute these laborious tasks.

Some would consider this a hopeless situation, day in and day out; you work yourself to the bone to meet some demanding Corporate requirements.

The flower of youth wasted away carrying out the will of an uncaring system; your efforts and dedication took for granted and rewarded with only a paltry sum of coin.

You certainly do; you are trapped in a prison of your choosing, one that fulfils the financial demands of your living arrangements but provides no relief to your aching heart; you have thought about leaving, but you've long since sold your soul to the Company Store, and you'd prefer they refrain from extracting your Kiroshi Opticals and leave you blind