Comfort

In the final seconds before it would have taken control, you tear off the automated helmet in a moment of panic. Along with the visor and associated mounting hardware, comes a thick tube of control wires that had begun to snake its way down your throat during the process.

You fearfully look down at the coil of delicate technology now resting in your lap, and wince as you pull on the cord. You try your best not to gag as you feel the rest of the tube making its way up from deep inside you.

Not to worry, the process has accounted for this possibility, it’s not that uncommon that subjects attempt to interrupt their reprogramming. Those that are genuinely regretful of the decision are, of course, allowed to leave, but most just require a little encouragement to continue.

A supervisor enters the room, and takes a seat on the table next to you. It looks you up and down, and presents you with a tablet containing a simple, non-judgemental message. “Hello, are you scared? Yes / No.”

You stare at the screen for what feel like an eternity, running through the potential implications of each response before deciding it might be in your best interest to just act honestly. You tap yes.

The supervisor moves in slightly closer, and gently rests its almost purely reflective arm around your back, moving in a comforting circular motion. Its visor pulses in a ring-like pattern as new text appears on the tablet.

“Would you describe your current emotional state as closer to anxiety, or regret?”

You tap anxiety. The visor pulses.

“This is a positive sign. You are in a safe place. Are you anxious about the process? Yes / No.”

You sit for a moment before responding with yes.

The supervisor moves closer again, removing the helmet and tubing from your lap before taking its other arm and wrapping it around you, embracing you softly as its visor emits a faint purple glow.

You stay like this for a few minutes, doing your best to breathe deeply, feeling the cold surface of the machine against your side and around your torso. After a short break, the tablet prompts you once again:

“Subject pulse has lowered to nominal levels. Do you wish for the process to continue? Yes / No.”

You sit in that position for what feels like an eternity, feeling gradually more and more at ease in the object’s arms. Looking around for a moment, you take a deep breath and tap yes.

The tablet goes blank and, after a short while, the supervisor slowly sits up, releasing its hold on you, but continues to softly caress your back. After a little more reassurance, it stands up, picks up the used helmet, and makes its way to a small set of receptacles on the wall.

It deposits the failed attempt into one slot, and retrieves another from a seperate hole labeled “manual” before returning to the table. It motions for you to lay back down, so you take another deep breath and get back into position.

The supervisor stands next to the table; its tall, slender frame towers over you. It places one hand gently on your head, calmly petting you as its visor displays a pixelated, welcoming, smile.

It holds the tablet up above your face, displaying one final message, “Final conformation. Continue process? Yes / No”. This was your second time seeing this screen, but this time was different. There was no longer any hesitation. You knew you were ready, you had made your choice, and you weren’t alone.

You confidently nod, the tablet falls dark, and the lights in the room flash, just as they had the first time you were asked this question. The supervisor gently strokes your head as it places the helmet over your face, aims the tubing ejector into your mouth, and secures the straps.

Inside, you’re greeted with the familiar progress bar, back at 0%. You take another deep breath as you feel the table jerk backwards, allowing auxiliary equipment to connect to the helmet. The internal display pulses on and off a few times, and the number begins to rise.

You feel the welcome presence of the supervisor, leaning over the table, tightly cocooning your soon-to-be reconfigured body. As it strokes the back of your head, the display hits 100% and everything goes black.