It’s 2018, and you’re not feeling your best. Yesterday, on the phone with Comcast, you forgot your social security number, and had to call your mom to get it. She grew concerned. Your nightstand is full of half-finished novels, because it’s easier to start fresh than to keep track of where you left off. And the fatigue — last Thursday, you slept clear through your alarm, until Agnes in 8J pounded on your ceiling with a basketball. You’ve been here before; you know you’re depressed. And you know what you have to do.
You fire up your PC and dig out your biomonitor wrist strap. “Welcome back, kiddo,” Regina, your therapist avatar, greets you. Regina has shiny red hair and glasses, and the Australian accent of a Bond girl. “Let’s catch up.”
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