His hand fell to the floor, limp. The drug surged through his veins like the floral pattern on the walls. Consciousness drained from his body with equal force. 

She threw open the door. Drool dribbled down her son’s chin. 

“No!” she screamed and yanked the needle from his arm. She pulled a syringe from her pocket and plunged it into his neck to stop the download. She prayed that his mind was still intact. 

His eyes fluttered open. She shrieked with joy. They were still in debt, but her son’s mind wouldn’t be a bodiless, digital slave of the cloud.