To say I'm disoriented would be a stark understatement. Only moments before I've been sitting in a lawn chair, frosted glass in hand, chatting with my best friends about her upcoming wedding. Now I find myself in a featureless room, sparsely lit by a bare, yellowish lightbulb hanging from the high ceiling. Dark stains surrounding its mount could be peeling paint or mould. Through the pangs of a blossoming headache, I realise my twisted position on a lumpy mattress is awkward and uncomfortable. What the hell?

The simple task of sitting up costs an enormous amount of energy. Groaning, I try to ignore my pounding skull. My eyes adjust slowly to the dimness and I count at least two dozen similar mattresses arranged in neat rows along the walls. Each is occupied by a sleeping figure. A suffocating, sweet smell of stale sweat and body excrements hangs in dead air.

I rub my eyes, half-hoping the gesture will chase away what my brain insists must be a horrible dream. But nothing changes. A hoarse grunt from my right side makes me turn around, glad it interrupts my morose thoughts.

On the mattress next over, a slim figure stirs and tosses around. I wonder if these are symptoms of a seizure, unable to remember how to help. Didn't I take first aid classes, back in school? Fortunately, the trashing soon stops and with an intense shudder, the body comes to rest. Moments later, my neighbour struggles into a sitting position and sends me a glare out of bloodshot eyes.

The girl is probably a few years younger than me. Her dull, black hair hangs in limp strands around a haggard face and onto dropping shoulders. It's kept together by a metallic gpheadband. Hollow cheeks, thin lips, and a slightly crooked nose give her a haunted expression, dominated by brown eyes too big for her features. Instead of a nightgown , she wears an oversized T-shirt, dirty and torn at the hem.

"Why are you staring, you creep?"

Her voice is deep and husky, not at all what I'd have associated with her looks.

"I'm not staring. You..., I thought you had a seizure or something. It worried me."

"Nothing to worry about, go back to sleep."

Despite her harsh words, her voice doesn't convey anger but indifference. Absentmindedly, she rubs her bare right arm. I stare at the yellow plastic tube sticking out of her bruised skin in shock. My gasp turns her attention to the awful thing. She fingers the ugly appendix and wiggles it back and forth, almost provocative.

"Stop, that's ghastly. What's it for?"

Her direct glance is disturbing.

"Sister, the shivers got you bad for sure. Remember anything at all?"

My eyes follow her pointing digit to my right arm where a similar tube drips a few dark drops unto my pale skin. Instinctively, I grasp the offending piece of plastic, about to pull it out by force. Her commanding voice stops me.

"Don't! You won't be able to stop the blood. Believe me, I tried, and I was lucky a warden arrived in time. Besides, you'll need the drain to reconnect without help."

She searches something next to her mattress and shows me the end of a thin, transparent tube.

"See? I disconnected by accident. Happens if you move suddenly. Before the blood clogs the connection tube, you can re-plug yourself. Puff and back into oblivion. That's what I will do right now."

"Wait, tell me more! I'm... where are we, and what's this shit about?"

Her eyes narrow as she scrutinises me from head to toe. Only now I realise a thin wire connects her headband with a small box mounted on the wall above her. My searching fingers find a similar strip of metal covering my forehead and constricting my skull. I shiver, struggling to remember and make sense of my current situation. The girl shifts into a more comfortable position and leans against the wall, shaking her head. I wonder if her face expresses pity or boredom.

"Sister, your memory is crap. I don't know when they brought you, but rest assured you chose this for yourself. We all did. Join the governmental program for the homeless and desperate. Eternal bliss and a life in your choice dreamworld in exchange for those tiny electric sparks your brain produces while stimulated. No pain, no need to worry about taxes, housing, or even the next meal. Everything you need will be provided—by the magic blue mixture pumped into your bloodstream. No idea why they are so keen to get us connected, but who cares as long as they deliver on their promises."

Dizziness surges through my exhausted body, and she frowns.

"Hey, don't faint! You'll die without the booze. Why don't you reconnect that blasted tube and seize the day? We're both goners, and you know it."

I ignore her, concentrating on the shady pictures stirring in front of my inner eye. They assemble into the dark, desperate story of my slow but unstoppable downfall. Yes, the drug seemed a reasonable way out of unbearable reality. And somehow, it was. A dry cough tears me out of my trip down memory lane. The girl is about to plug her tubes together. I reach out, afraid to lose her reassuring company.

"Don't, let's talk. There must be something better than dying on a flash."

She wraps her arms around her knobbly knees and leans back against the wall. A burst of dry laughter leaves her throat.

"Believe in fairytales? No, sis, you and I know the world holds nothing for scum like us. Not anymore. It's gone to hell ages ago. Welcome to reality. Enjoy the days you've left. See you on the bright side."

In cold horror, I watch as she connects the tubes. Her haunted features relax, her eyelids close and her lips draw back in a broad smile that underlines her skull-like appearance. She slumps down on her makeshift bed and curls up, nursing her right arm, protecting the dream-spending connection.

Shocked and disgusted I try to stand, but my limbs feel heavy and my headache explodes. I slump down and rub my temples. Where did I want to go? Who was I talking to moments ago? It's hard to keep my thoughts on track. I stare at the tube beside my bed, and my gaze follows its snaking length to a thicker version mounted on the wall. Each of the sleepers in the hall is connected to it. They revel in the benefit of the booze, the sluggish, blue fluid circulating through it. Everyone except me.

With a deliberate effort, I pick up my end of the transparent tube and push it into its yellow socket with a shaking hand, hoping my vein isn't clogged yet.

As soon as the connection is reestablished, the lucent liquid shoots into my arm. The immediate effect is amazing. The illumination becomes brighter, a warm afternoon sun caresses my skin, and the laughter of my friends fills the air.

Geez, I shouldn't nap after lunch. I'm glad that awful nightmare dissolves faster than the ice in my drink...