I have to choose. Again.
"Well, let's see... Ah, Mr. Albren, since this is your 50th switch, you will have an additional option." The clerk, a fat-faced heap of boring lard, shifted his massive weight and leaned forward. The chair creaked. The table grunted too. "You can take the X-F200 model, standard class, or the Y-F300, also standard class, as before, or you can participate in our new test program."
The sliding doors on each side of the room opened, and from each came out a thin, sturdy reel of metal. Hanging on the left; black, crappy skin tossed on lumps of meat supposed to be hands and legs and a torso, all sewed together by a thermolaser. On the right, the same - jets included.
"I understand you have a debt problem, Mr. Albren. If you participate in our program, it will be cleared, and you might even be able to upgrade. Also, your original content will be preserved for future generations."
"You mean my head?"
Of course he meant that. Stupid question. Wait, he said - clear my debt? Save me?
Deny this? After so many years? No way.
"I'll do it!"
"Then please sign here."
The obese bastard took a pen out of his pocket, a form from his drawer in the desk, and shoved the pen into my mouth. I managed to make an X using my teeth. It felt strange - I never used them, really. Or, I forgot.
"Congratulations, Mr. Albren. Now, would you kindly direct your attention to the front door."
My neurons directed my pod to the door. It opened. A black, metal case, 2 meters tall, slided in.
Inside... I understood why we do not die.
It killed me.