One confirmation later and the screen in front of my eyes turned transparent. And the beautiful landscapes and people turned into a white ceiling. Two bare light-tubes bathed the room in a cold blue-white. The light anyone would associate with hospitals or morgues. To me it was the well-known atmosphere of my new home. A ceiling so familiar, I recognized any crack or bump.

A slight headache build itself up behind my temples, but I ignored the usual pain. Just my eyes readjusting themselves to the changed lighting after an extensive session. Or at least something like that. My caregiver had explained it to me in lengths, but I didn’t even try to understand it. It was normal, it came, and it went by. Only that mattered.

Five minutes later my head was clear enough to force my left hand into action. A few button presses and the icon for a nurse call appeared in my vision. Let’s waste a few more minutes with waiting.

Do you know the worst thing about dying? It’s waiting.

There aren’t any dramatic scenes of goodbyes like in the movies, no friends who hold your hands and comfort you, no lover who kisses you to sleep. Instead, you lie in bed and wait for your body to break down. Day by day, bit by bit, like a ship that sinks into the ocean one foot a day. Four more months to live doesn’t mean four more months to be alive. It means a few brief days of living and long weeks of dying.

To be fair, at the beginning there was all that glamour. Classmates coming to visit, long talks with my mother, discussions about life and mortality, and even a priest had come for a talk. But each passing day is a burden for outsiders. And I’m the anchor holding their lives back. Therefore once a day became once every few days, became once every week, became a phone call instead of a visit, became silence.

I wasn’t mad.

They had their own duties while I hadn’t any big stories to share either. And listening to them, I saw the guilt in their eyes. As if they felt responsible for my lack of a life. As if they blamed themselves for outliving me. There was nothing left to talk about.

I wasn’t mad.

Everyone has their own path to walk in life. Some shitty quote from a meaningless motivational poster. But also somewhat true. And our paths just led to different goals.

I wasn’t mad.

I was just… sobered.

“Finished your game? Then let me help you up.”

A warm voice, an honest smile, both overflowing with professional care.

“Yeah, I wanted to pause for a bit. And it’s probably time… to change.”

I forced a smile.

“Okay. Let’s do that. You know the deal by now, so clench your teeth for me. No screams today.”

The old nurse chattered as she moved to the bed-head, pressing a few buttons. It was routine for both of us. We only talked to keep the silence away.

A few beeps and the feeling in my lower body came back. Spine, waist, leg, feet. But with the sensation the pain returned, too. Backache, stiff legs from the thrombosis stockings, twitching feet. Everything assaulted me together, but I gritted my teeth and waited. Humans adjust to everything. Even pain.

“Then let me see how it looks today.”

More small-talk. But this time I kept quiet. No need to humiliate myself.

“Oh, come on. It’s normal. No need to be shy.”

I sighed. Awkward silence was enough for me. The bedpan would speak for itself.

Instead, I used my shaky hands to remove the visor in front of my eyes. Even though it became transparent and didn’t obstruct the view, I still preferred watching the actual world with my own two eyes. The last few minutes of sunlight looked better without some glass-monitor mixed in between.

“It seems the new painkillers are easier on your digestion. No fresh blood either. That’s great. We wouldn’t want an inflammation, do we?”

I just forced another smile.

Hospice. The confession that modern medicine failed you. One last holiday for the damned. Five weeks done, who knows how many more to come. According to the doctor, I was lucky when god created me. A strong constitution, a body able to fight for a long time. More time to relish this life. And more time to enjoy the pain.

But even so, I was glad to be here.

The “nerve suppression system for falsely induced muscle sleep”. NSSFFIMS for short. Not the greatest name to be sure, but this pilot project helped me elevate my boring death.

They inject the players with some weird hormone cocktail and their your lower body half into sleep. Apparently this also cuts off a lot of the nerve reflexes and pain transmission, leaving you with only your hands to move two small controllers and your eyes to watch the screen in front of you. A medical approved entertainment system.

It wasn’t some fancy VR/AR/DR/WhateverR technology people dreamed of. But it was enough for me. I could escape this small white room and once again do things by myself, experience things instead of watching them from the side, and connect myself to the outside world.

“All done. I’ll go and get dinner soon. Today’s meal is potato soup. And with your values it’s enough for a whole sausage.”

She smiled as she propped me up against the front end. I forced another smile. Like always.

Sitting up became the first boss in my new life. Defeated after a few short-lived days. Going to the toilet on my own? Impossible after two weeks. Today’s raid boss was the simple act of lifting my arms above my shoulders. Difficulty: Nightmare.

Degenerating nerves make everything impossible. Even the movements of my fingers became inaccurate. So much for my dream to play a powerful magician. Too many precise inputs needed, so I became stuck with the melee classes aimed at beginners. No tactfulness needed.

At least I could still move my head and watch some other patients in the courtyard. Escorted by their loved ones, sitting on the benches, they enjoyed the sunset behind the little park. Death was boring, but the dying day was beautiful.

So much more than the bleak white room around me. There were no picture frames, no books, no magazines, no stuffed animal. Just some wooden furniture in front of a naked wall. Normally the house rules allowed one bag full of personal luggage and decorations. But I decided against that. Less stuff to throw away later.

Hence the only decoration in my room was a sizable poster opposite the bed. A beautiful sword maiden knelt there. Silver-blonde hair, radiant armor and an exquisite sword. Wounded by arrows, bleeding all over the place, she waited for her end. But despite the grim motif, her figure possessed an ethereal charm. Beautiful, just like the dying day.

She was the poster girl for that weird MMO my classmates wanted to try out with me. And here I was, waiting for my death and the only thing accompanying me is a poster for an outright mediocre anime game. A stupid thing. And my only treasure.

“Oh? This smile looks much better. Fantasizing about your girlfriend?”

I chuckled.

“I hoped you could let her feed me today.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to put up with this old lady.” She laughed and lifted the spoon to my mouth. “But I promise you I’ll be more gentle than such rowdy girl. Think about it. Getting her armor dirty, being out late for fights, earning the family’s upkeep. You would be the housewife in that relationship.”

“Then I’m glad to have you instead.”

She laughed. I laughed. No routine for once.

“Oh. And your mother came and brought some fresh flowers.” She stopped and pointed towards the bedside table. “She always finds such beautiful bouquets. I really have to ask her where she bought these.”

“Mother… was here?”

“Three hours ago? Hmm. Or was it four? She sat at your side for a few minutes, but you looked so peaceful. And she didn’t want to disturb you.” She recounted. “And she was only here for half an hour before she had to go. She told me about her new night-time job. It’s not long and they pay good money for cleaning. Ah, your mother is such a strong woman. We should surprise her next time…”

She rattled on and on as we finished dinner.

“Well. I bring away the dishes and afterwards we’ll get you nice and clean for the night.”

I nodded. And forced another smile.

Here’s another fact about death. It’s not only boring, it costs money. A lot. At least if you want to spend your last days on the Earth with as much dignity as possible. And so your existence becomes even heavier, overwhelming, until it fills the entire room. A loan for the bed, a second job for the game system, sleep deprivation as you look for answers.

It’s unfair. Life… is unfair.

The rest of the evening was the usual point-by-point play between us. Some light physiotherapy, getting my body wiped with a warm towel, body inspection for new bruises and scratches, a round of painkillers - another hour of entertainment for my pleasure. Routine as always.

“So. Anything else you need? Any pain right now?”

“No. But the tremors are getting worse. So perhaps a sleeping pill for later?”

“Again? You had so many the past few days. Try to sleep without them for once.”

“It’s easier to fall asleep when I watch videos after one.” I tried to sound as normal as possible. “And it’s not like I have to fear long-term addiction.”

“Alright, alright.” She sighed and handed me my pills. Seems like she had prepared them beforehand. “Then… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Where would I go? My girlfriend lives online.”

I laughed. And forced another smile.

“I see. Hmm… good luck. And… are you sure?” She hesitated at the door. But only another professional smile appeared. “No. Nevermind. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. May you find peace in your dreams.”

Silence. A gloomy room just for me. Only the night light above my head kept it from being pitch black.

Did she realize it? Probably. I’m not her first patient. And I won’t be her last either. So how could I, an inexperienced boy barely able to move my arms, even hope to trick her?

That’s a hospice for you. Providing a humane death.

It took me half an hour to open the empty bedside table and fish a handful of beads out of it.

Out of breath after one gesture? Maybe I should visit the gym more often.

And for today’s big finale: lifting your hand to your mouth 7 times. A massive win against the last boss. They should praise me tomorrow.

Activating the visor, I once more saw the flowers on the bedside table. Blurred. I knew one shouldn’t trust these things. Even the hand in front of my eyes is all blurry now.

Anyway. Time to log in.