Ash was dying.
She knew it, her family knew it, her few friends knew it.
It sucked.
She was lying in a hospital bed, waiting for it to happen. Her body was weak, the disease and failed treatment having stripped her of strength and vitality. Everything ached slightly, even beneath all the painkillers she was pumped with.
Still, all she found herself thinking was how much she’d miss not being able to play the sequel to her favourite game, Novus. She’d begged her uncle, who was a senior dev on the game, to get her an early copy.
“It’s a live game” Her uncle had replied sadly, “the only people playing right now are the devs on our internal servers. I’ll get you in on early access, I promise!”
Well, now that was just two weeks away and Ash knew she wouldn’t make it. That was a lost cause.
She looked to her bedside, where sat a signed copy of the penultimate book in her favourite series – a kind charity organising it so that she could read it early. Now, looking at it only made her sad that she’d never read the final instalment. At least her favourite TV show had wrapped up a few months back. That had been a satisfying ending, at least.
Still, was that all she really cared about? Books, games, TV? What about her life? Had that not meant something? She could really only say that the answer was… no.
In the end, it had all been so… pointless.
Spending her time studying, going to university, graduating, getting accepted into a master’s program - it had all looked so promising. But now, here she was. All that time learning so she could contribute to society, only to fall ill and die. Pointless.
She buzzed for a nurse and asked them to turn her painkillers up, welcoming the void of delirious stupor.
The days passed in a foggy blur. Various family members and one of her uni friends visited, then left. Her uncle came, said something that made her hopeful at the time, but she now couldn’t even recall what it was. The hope soon slipped away after he too left. Her mother sat by her side until she couldn’t hold her eyes open any more. Ash’s father came by and took her away. Ash slept.
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She woke in pain. Her mind was too sharp. There were voices, hushed, but still too loud.
“How soon?”
“Within the day. I’ve called for the rest, so if you could just wait outside until her parents-”
“What! Can’t I at least sit with her for now?”
“Well, first priority goes to her immediate-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but they’re not here. I just want to see her, you know, before…” There was a sound like the clearing of a throat. “I’ll clear out as soon as they get here.”
“Okay fine, but remember, she’s very fragile right now.”
Ash blinked and her uncle swam into view.
“Hey kid.” He said, half grimacing at her.
I must look awful. She thought.
Then he leaned forward and whispered, “I brought it.”
“It?” Ash croaked. “Painkillers?”
“Uh… no. The, ah, uploader?” He suddenly looked worried. “But I can go ask-”
“No!” Ash exclaimed, well as much as she could in her weakened state, suddenly remembering what he meant “Do it!”
The uploader. He’d talked about it vaguely before, Then one night he’d mentioned that, since Ash wouldn’t “be able” to play the game, he could try it on her. It was apparently a tool the devs used to make more realistic NPCs, uploading the patten of their minds into the server so the game could draw on them for inspiration. He’d claimed he’d programmed in a way to isolate it. The person’s mind would essentially become a single NPC in his game. Kind of. He wasn’t sure how one-to-one the copy would be. Still, Ash had jumped at the suggestion. At least this way, there would be a memory of her somewhere. Kind of like a really cool tombstone.
He glanced around to check no one was watching, then pulled a weird hat from his bag. It trailed wires and seemed to be made of sensors. It was uncomfortable on Ash’s head, scratching faintly at her scalp, but it was like nothing compared to the aching in the rest of her body.
“Okay, here goes,” he said, plugging it in and pressing a few buttons. “You should feel a tingling…”
Ash did. His voice faded into the background as she felt her thoughts being scanned. She half-watched him pull out a screen, checking over a readout with a noticeable status bar at the bottom. She tracked it as it slowly filled: 38%, 53%, 67%.
This is good. She considered. Now, in a small way, I’ll be a part of the game. I hope it’s as good as he seemed to think it would be. If it’s even half as fun as the first one, I’ll be happy.
79%.
The bar crept up. Ash’s eyes started to roll upwards uncontrollably. Out of the corner of her vision she saw her mother rush inside, hurrying over and gasping when she saw her daughter.
“What are you doing! Ashley!” Ash heard her voice as if through a thick layer of water.
88%.
Her mother darted forward, reaching up to pry the hat from her daughter’s head.
94%.
No! I want this.
Ash’s withered fingers twitched up, brushing against her mother’s wrist.
99%.
“N-no…” she croaked.
Then the world faded to white.

