Back then, when there were still windows and air and sparrows—for fuck’s sake why did he ever leave? He weighed 120 kilos. He ate everything he could get his hands on. What he could get his hands on were crisps. He ate crisps and played video games. He was at home among the undead, night elves, worgen, and orcs. He fulfilled his quests by successfully killing opponents and his mouth always hung slightly open. Used to. Now he was light. At 120 kilos, Don’s brother had developed sores on several spots on his body. The sores wept. And so mother determined that a doctor needed to address the problem. One gray morning the two of them waddled through the idyllic little town, which became more wretched every year, because as a result of automation the last sources of income in the form of betting shops and trucking companies had ceased to exist. At that point the people sat quietly and waited for the giant bird that would carry them away.

No bird.

No relief.

After a day waiting in the hospital because of the open wounds, he was sent home. Unfortunately there could be no treatment

Because

After importing data from the chip, it became clear that the condition was the fault of personal misconduct. Keywords: gaming, snacking, failure to exercise. The nurse, who had yet to be replaced by a robot, urged Don’s mother and brother to put in some effort and then they could try again. Don’s brother and his mother waddled back through the town to their lodgings. That had been just recently. And now he was lying here, that is, his corpse was. Next to which he sits. Thinking. I want to go back. I want to go back and do everything differently. Not sit in a room and eat, but learn a foreign language instead. Dutch, for instance. And then take a ship across to Holland and run a farm there. And smell the sea and the freshly cut grass. No idea where he came up with freshly cut grass, but he imagines it smells good. Don’s brother lies there and freezes, and he can think but not move, and he starts to cry, which also happens only inside. So they’re all still here, the dead, thinks the brother, hoping this is a temporary condition. Then he imagines his burial and the dirt on top of him and the eternal boredom and cold and darkness.

If only he wanted to wake up

Thinks

THOME

And wakes up.