I guess not

As I walk through the chilled white corridors, light from the windows is soaked up by my black jacket and hotboxes the area inside.  Inside the large black cocoon my skinny, faint form revels in the heat.  I used to fit in this jacket.  I continue walking and pass the windows, turning left into one of the entertainment rooms.  The room is kept in an unholy state of order, with the drones always cleaning up after you, and resetting things to their original position.  Through the room I go, passing some of the other patients "watching" TV or just laying on the couches, withering away like me.

 

There's something different about viral things.  In my life I've been beaten, burnt, torn, and always my time spent afterwards felt like I was going somewhere.  It felt like I was getting healthier, healing.  When you have a virus, it just runs its course.  Running rampant in your body, like an unruly child at a daycare, throwing things, yelling and breaking things.  That's what this virus does anyway.  It doesn't have any pattern, not even the astounding medical technology of the ass end of the 70's can fix it.  You'd expect that by 2279 you'd be able to fix anything.  I guess not.