Hypercage: Instant Reality Prequel One Read Free Page A

thought so,” she chided. “This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to authorise you a script for Bupropion. I’ll drop you at the addiction clinic at Goldmark Place and tell them you’ve seen a consultant. Once they’ve authorised the drug delivery, and you’ve had your first dose, come home and we can talk. Otherwise, don’t fucking bother.”
    Rebecca tapped through unseen menus, and with a final gesture in the air, a glowing prescription icon popped into the layer of augmented reality between them.
    He watched it as it spun around, leaving glowing trails from each of the corners that reminded him of torpedoes barrelling their way towards a capital ship. He reached out slowly, thinking about what it would mean to accept it, to admit defeat. To never jack in to Galaxy War ever again. His hand slowed to a stop in front of the spinning icon.
    “You bastard!” She said as she turned on her heel and climbed into the car in one smooth movement.
    “Becks… wait,” he shouted as the door of the car sliced shut. “Becks… Rebecca!”
    The car lifted smoothly off the ground, ascending to join the multiple levels of traffic flowing over the top of the city.
    “For fuck’s sake,” he shouted at the departing car, slamming his balled fists into the air as if he hoped to knock it out of the sky.
    He span on his heel to face the prescription icon, and was about to wave it away to dismiss it when he realised what it would mean. He’d probably never see Becks or Jake again. Is that what he wanted? Was the game really worth the sacrifice? His shoulders slumped. What would Becks tell Jake? “Sorry son, your Dad decided being someone in VR was more important than being a father.”
    “Fucking hell!” Dave said. Sighing, he reached out and touched the icon. It exploded into a thousand triangles that all shot down onto his HUD, as if caught in a tractor beam. One by one, they rebuilt the spinning icon, a glowing permanent reminder of his choice.
    ± ± ± ± ±
    D ave walked through the doors of the clinic. A pulsing green target painted on the floor in ARSpace directed him to an empty reception desk. As he stepped onto the target, the clinic’s AI detected his presence and loaded the default meeting protocol. A wash of static formed a silhouette of a man sitting in the empty chair, who then snapped into existence as if he had been there all along.
    “Yes sir, how may I help?” questioned the ARvatar.
    “I’ve got a script for Bupropion. I need to get authorisation for delivery,” Dave responded.
    “Please share your script,” the ARvatar instructed.
    Dave complied and the clinic’s AI interfaced with the digital script.
    “Please follow the green arrow to the waiting area for digital addiction. Your case will need to be reviewed and assessed,” it said.
    “My, err, consultant said that I would get a course delivered straight away.”
    “VR addiction can have wide ranging consequences, Mr Charlton. All cases need to be reviewed and assessed before a course of detoxification is authorised and administered. Please take a seat and a mechanical automated medical assistant will be with you shortly,” it said.
    “Can’t you just give me my goddamned drugs so I can go home?” he snarled.
    The ARvatar flickered with static and disappeared.
    “Stupid piece of shit AI,” Dave said as he stomped down the hall, following the glowing green arrow painted on the floor of his private ARSpace.
    The waiting room looked like a zombie apocalypse had ravaged the gaming community, and they’d all decided to come here to munch on some brains. Most of them looked like the scum of the earth. They were gaunt and malnourished, with distant eyes undoubtedly imagining a world that wasn’t this one. Most of them probably were in a different world. Jacked in to whatever virtual space had ensnared them. Fucking jack-heads. Normally you see them on the street corners, begging for a money transfer to get their next fix.
    He scanned