Ting…
Ting…
Ting…
The soft chime of the heart monitor echoed through the white hospital room, steady and mechanical, like a clock counting down nothing and everything at the same time.
A man in a brown medical coat stood near the bed, his glasses glowing faintly with shifting data streams reflected in their lenses.
The light inside them flickered as if dozens of screens were layered behind his eyes.
"So," he said calmly, his voice professional, measured, "how are you feeling now?"
The patient slightly tilted his head on the pillow, eyes drifting toward him.
"All better," he replied.
The doctor gave a small, approving nod.
"That's good. In that case, you're cleared for discharge."
He raised his hand and a translucent holographic screen unfolded in the air between them, glowing pale blue as data began to scroll automatically.
"Oliver Pierce," the doctor read aloud.
"You were admitted on April 10th, 4279," he continued, his finger moving across the floating display.
"You arrived in critical condition with severe trauma and extremely low life signs."
The doctor's expression stayed composed, but his eyes paused on the next set of lines — a flicker so small Oliver almost wondered if he imagined it.
"And as of February 15th, 4280, you're being officially released with full recovery."
He swiped, and a new column of details slid into view.
"There is no lingering damage to your body."
"All systems are stable."
"Neural pathways are reconnected cleanly."
A softer tone slipped into his voice for just a moment. "You're functioning better than most patients who walk out of here."
Oliver listened without reacting much, only giving a slow nod.
The holographic display shifted and another panel slid forward.
"The total cost of your operation and extended care amounts to 1.9 million ZIX," the doctor stated calmly.
"Would you like to pay upfront or process a loan request?"
The window hovered closer to Oliver.
"I'll pay upfront," he murmured, a faint, bitter curve appearing at the corner of his lips.
He placed his palm against the hologram.
A sharp digital tone sounded immediately.
Ding.
Transaction Completed.
The doctor smiled politely as the screen dissolved into scattered light.
"If you experience any complications or discomfort in the future, you're always welcome back here," he said.
Oliver returned a small, tired smile.
He eased himself upright, surprised by how normal his body felt.
Too normal, considering everything that had happened last year.
He reached for the neatly folded black t-shirt by his bed and slipped it on.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low but sincere.
The doctor simply nodded before turning and walking off to attend another patient, his glowing glasses already shifting to new data.
...
Vroom…Vroom…Vroom…
Above the skyline, streams of hover-cars sliced through the air between towering skyscrapers, leaving faint neon trails that shimmered like digital brushstrokes across the sky. Thousands of vehicles drifted effortlessly, gliding without wheels, moving in synchronized chaos through invisible aerial lanes.
Cutting through the traffic, a red BMW Blazer with bold black racing stripes broke formation and dropped toward the lower levels of the city as it descended smoothly until it hovered a meter above the pavement.
The reflections rippled across the slick concrete as the Blazer glided toward a young man waiting beneath a towering glass building, dressed simply in a T-shirt, expression unreadable.
All four doors lifted open with a precise, fluid motion.
No driver sat inside. No passengers, either.
Just a calm, synthetic voice coming from the cabin.
"Hello, Oliver. Manual or auto today?"
Oliver released a tired breath and slid into the front seat.
"Give me manual," he said.
The doors sealed shut with a soft hiss, and the window in front of him flickered into a semi-opaque interface, displaying three floating options:
1. Turbo
2. Console
3. VR
Oliver tapped Console.
A drawer on his left extended with a quiet click, revealing a compact gaming controller nestled inside.
He picked it up as the windshield faded back to full transparency, revealing the city sprawling before him.
Oliver leaned into the seat, letting it cradle him, thumb sliding over the controller's start button.
The engine responded with a rising hum.
Whuuu—
Oliver muttered under his breath, "Yeah… let's get out of here."
He pushed the joystick forward.
The Blazer lifted smoothly, rising off the street with effortless stability.
...
'My name is Oliver Pierce.
Born in the forty-third century — a society so convinced that it has solved every problem worth caring about.
People call it a paradise.
They use that word—paradise—like it's proof we're better than every generation before us.
To me, it feels like a room with all the sharp edges filed off.'
A second button press jolted the engine alive. The Red Blazer shot upward, carving through the air as it threaded past skyscrapers with effortless precision.
'Kids here... barely tall enough to reach a workbench... could build machines capable of performing surgical operations without breaking a sweat.
Teenagers take violence as casually as breathing—one wrong joke, one shove, and suddenly your spine can be in pieces. Mine was.
The city blurred around him, streaks of light and steel rushing by.
Just a few months back, a boy ripped my neck in anger and the teachers jokingly called it a "test of durability."'
Traffic lanes parted as the Blazer climbed.
'That's how everything goes here. Nothing leaves a mark.
This place is efficient, comfortable, polished to the point of sterility.'
Neon reflections swept across the mirror.
'Advancement has stalled because no one feels pressure to create anything new.
We've flattened risk, erased fear, removed consequences.'
The buildings thinned as he ascended higher.
'It's the end of history.
Everything is available, everything is reversible, everything is safe.'
He tightened his grip on the controller.
'Even death—a concept that once forced humans to confront meaning—stopped being a boundary a long time ago.
This is... the greatness of technology.'
The Blazer surged forward into the clouds.
'I didn't know it then, but that drive would be the last moment I ever felt certain about anything.
A few hours later… everything I thought I understood about this world collapsed.'