Page 22 - Tales Apocalyptic and Dystopian

The Infoarchy

another purpose: the neural implant has never been successfully
installed in a human being. It will not work effectively in anyone
already using the miniature input-output devices. And that includes
everyone now living—except you.”
“Me?”
“You are to be used as a test case. Your disease, although fatal, will
let you live long enough to undergo the necessary procedures—
which may induce real pain as well as psychological terror. I assure
you that your personal desires are of no importance to the Infoarchy.
You are no less a dead man than you were a century ago.”
“No! I don’t believe it. Let me talk to a doctor. Who’s in charge
here? I want to see the director of this hospital.”
“This is not a hospital. Now I am running out of time. Take this.”
Lester Morris felt a small tablet being pressed into his palm.
“What is that?”
“You will help yourself and you may help the rest of mankind by
swallowing that pill. It will be a quick and painless death, much easier
than the one you already experienced in the tank. If the Infoarchy has
no test subject for its implant, it will take longer to find a way to
perfect it—perhaps long enough for the few remaining independent
minds to overthrow the tyranny. You must decide quickly. My
presence here, once detected, may initiate a thorough search of this
laboratory. Goodbye.”
And he was gone.
Minutes passed. Morris, supine, felt a familiar tingling warmth in
his extremities. It was the disease, reviving. The tall figures in white
entered. One pushed a smooth gray metal cart.
“It is time for a test,” said the man in charge. “You will receive an
injection first.”
“Oh. Is that going to cure my disease?” Lester Morris struggled to
sit up.
“That has already been attended to. Please lie still.”
“I see.” He felt the tablet between his thumb and fingers. “Could I
have a glass of water first?”

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