White.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not the comforting kind of white you see in clean sheets or hospital adverts, but the sterile, unforgiving kind—like the color itself had been scrubbed too thoroughly, stripped of warmth. The walls, the ceiling, the floor… all white. Seamless. Perfect. Almost unreal.
The only thing that broke the monotony was the bed I was lying on.
Black frame. Thin mattress. Too firm. The kind that made you painfully aware of your own weight. A flat-screen television hung on the wall opposite me, playing something muted—news, maybe—but I couldn't focus on it. The images slid past without meaning, like my brain had quietly decided none of it mattered.
I swallowed.
My throat felt dry.
I was also beginning to get tired of being in white rooms as after this id begin t really appreciate colour more I think.
I was dressed in an operation gown, the fabric light and unfamiliar against my skin, open at the back in a way that made me acutely aware of how exposed I was. My hands rested stiffly at my sides, fingers twitching every now and then as nerves crept up on me in waves.
To my right stood Destiny.
She looked… composed. Unshaken. The same pencil skirt and fitted jacket from earlier, she also held the sleek tablet from earlier with a smile I can only assume was meant to put me at ease which in a way kind of worked. Her posture was relaxed, professional. As if this were just another Tuesday.
Two nurses stood nearby, both dressed in pale blue scrubs. Calm. Efficient. One of them checked something on a tray—small instruments neatly arranged, metallic and precise. The other adjusted a monitor mounted near the bed, its soft beeping the only sound that reminded me I was still in a physical space.
Cameras watched us from the corners of the room.
Of course they did.
I took a slow breath.
"Can you… explain this to me again?" I asked, my voice coming out thinner than I intended. "The procedure."
Destiny looked up from her tablet, her eyes softening just a little.
"Nervous?" she asked gently.
I let out a short laugh. "Just a bit. You know. Minor surgery. Experimental tech. Cameras. White room. Nothing scary."
She smiled, clearly recognizing the deflection for what it was.
"Of course," she said, stepping closer. "I'll explain."
She leaned lightly against the side of the bed, close enough that I could see the faint lines at the corner of her eyes when she smiled— which it's effect if easing me might be begining to wear off as I drew closer to undergoing the procedure.
"We'll place you under light anesthesia," she began, calm and measured. "You won't feel pain, and you won't be unconscious for long. Think of it as drifting rather than sleeping."
I nodded.
"The device itself is very small," she continued, swiping her tablet. An image appeared on the screen—a tiny, smooth object. "About the size of a tooth. Bioceramic casing, non-reactive. It'll be implanted at the base of your neck, near the cervical spine."
My fingers curled slightly.
"It doesn't touch the spinal cord," she added quickly, as if anticipating my fear. "It interfaces with the peripheral neural pathways. It reads and transmits signals—nothing invasive beyond that."
"So it reads my brain?" I asked.
"It translates neural activity," she corrected. "There's a difference."
That didn't help as much as she probably thought it would.
"And afterward?" I asked. "Long-term effects?"
"None observed so far," she said smoothly. "The implant is passive. Reversible. This is only for the beta phase."
I hesitated, then frowned. "Wouldn't this be… inconvenient? I mean, if every player had to do this just to play a game—"
She chuckled softly.
"You're not wrong," she said. "That's why we're testing alternatives. Non-invasive solutions. This is just to gather data. Early-stage testing always looks extreme before it becomes… consumer-friendly."
That explanation sounded reasonable. At least enough to make me "man up" and chuck it to comparing it to taking an injection, who was I kidding I hated injections, god it's over quick.
The nurse closest to me cleared her throat. "Are you ready, sir?"
I glanced around the room once more. The cameras. The lights. Destiny's steady expression.
I exhaled.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm ready."
The nurse nodded.
"Please lie back."
I did.
The ceiling loomed above me, featureless and white. I tried not to think about how easy it would be to get lost staring at it.
As they moved into position, I turned my head slightly, catching sight of the cameras again. A strange feeling settled in my chest—like I was about to cross a line I wouldn't be able to uncross.
I closed my eyes.
Distract yourself, I thought.
Anime.
That was always easy.
What was airing this season again? I vaguely remembered a sequel I'd been waiting for… or was it a new studio adaptation? My thoughts drifted lazily, clumsily, like I was flipping through channels in my head.
Footsteps approached.
Someone else entered the room—voices low, professional. I didn't bother opening my eyes.
A sharp pinch in my arm.
"Anesthesia," a voice said. Calm. Neutral.
The sensation spread quickly, a warm heaviness crawling through my veins. My limbs began to feel distant, like they belonged to someone else causing me to briefly open my eyes.
The room… flickered.
I frowned.
No—it glitched.
The white ceiling fractured for just a moment, breaking into jagged lines like a corrupted video file. Colors warped. The edges of my vision shimmered unnaturally.
I blinked.
It was gone.
Just nerves, I told myself.
But then my vision turned red.
Not metaphorically.
Red flooded everything—deep, saturated crimson, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. I could hear voices, muffled and distorted, like they were speaking through water.
"…beginning placement…"
"…neural sync stable…"
I tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
I tried to move.
Nothing.
Panic flared—but before it could fully take hold, something shifted.
Suddenly, I was standing.
No—floating.
I looked down.
My body lay on the bed beneath me.
My body.
Eyes closed. Chest rising and falling slowly. A nurse adjusted something near my neck while Destiny watched, tablet in hand.
I stared.
"Hey," I said.
My voice echoed strangely, like it wasn't passing through air.
"Hey!" I shouted. "What—what is this?"
No one reacted.
"Destiny!" I yelled. "Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
My heart—or whatever passed for it now—pounded wildly.
"I'm right here!" I screamed. "I'm not asleep! Something's wrong!"
Still nothing.
The room began to blur at the edges, reality smearing like wet paint.
Then—
Darkness.
I screamed into it.
"I'm not okay!" I shouted. "Something's wrong! I can't feel my body!"
No response.
Panic spiraled.
I didn't know how long the darkness lasted but it felt uncomfortable.
This isn't how anesthesia works. Something was horribly wrong.
A voice cut through the chaos.
"Calm down."
I froze.
The voice was male. Deep. Kind of Familiar.
I latched onto it instantly.
"Who are you?" I demanded. "What's happening to me? Where am I? Why could I see myself—"
"Calm down," the voice repeated, firmer now. "Panicking won't help."
"I know that voice," I said suddenly. "You—"
"Wait," the voice said. "Just… wait a moment."
The darkness peeled away.
White flooded back in.
I really was beginning to have a huge distaste for this colour.
I found myself standing in a vast white space, the floor glossy and reflective like polished glass. In front of me stood a long, transparent table—rectangular, pristine, its surface shimmering faintly.
A chair sat just before it.
I looked up.
A massive floating screen hovered above the table, no not screen rather like a projector was projecting the image, I looked behind but no projector behind me just endless white. I turned back to the screen.
On it was Mr. Adeyemi.
He looked… enormous. Like a giant peering down at an insect. His face calm, composed, magnified by the display.
My breathing quickened.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked, forcing my voice to steady.
He smiled politely.
"Kamcy," he said. "Thank you for your cooperation."
"Where's my body?, something happened, where am I " I demanded.
"You're no longer occupying it," he replied evenly.
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"You've undergone consciousness digitization," he continued, as if explaining a presentation slide. "Your mind has been mapped, transferred, and instantiated within our system."
I laughed.
A short, hysterical sound.
"That's not funny," I said. "I didn't agree to that."
"i believe you actually did, was all part of the agreement you signed remember" he said calmly. "This is part of it."
"No," I snapped. "I agreed to play a game."
"yes and also agreed to help us, so we placed you in a form were you can do just that" he replied. "As well as more."
My hands clenched.
"You're saying I'm… what? A Software?"
"A digital entity," he corrected. "With a human consciousness."
I shook my head.
"No. No, no, no. I want out. Put me back."
He sighed lightly.
"That won't be possible."
Anger flared hot and sharp.
"You can't do this!" I shouted. "This is illegal! This is kidnapping! Or something"
"You're mistaken," he said. "besides You're now our asset. And a valuable one."
"Put me back," I repeated.
"No."
Silence stretched.
Then he gestured toward the table.
"Your first task is simple," he said. "System diagnostics. Assist with adaptive response modeling."
"I'm not doing anything," I said. "you have to put me back."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded.
"I see."
The screen shifted slightly.
"Place him in isolation," he said, addressing someone unseen.
A voice responded faintly. Affirmative.
Mr. Adeyemi turned back to me.
"We'll speak again in a year," he said calmly.
"A year?" I shouted confused "what do you mean a year?"
"Hey!"
"You're insane!"
The screen went dark.
"No—wait!" I yelled.
The white space began to constrict.
I grabbed the chair beside the table, rage flooding through me. With a shout, I swung it—
The glass table shattered.
Fragments exploded outward, scattering across the white floor like ice.
"COME BACK!" I screamed.
There was no answer.
Only white.