Unity Carl Stubblefield (read book TXT) 📖

sapping my motivation. No one really knows me as a super. But in a weird way, I feel like I represent regs too, and I don’t want to turn my back on them and treat them like second-class citizens now that I have these powers.”

“Which is probably a good thing,” BoJack said and Gus pressed on, encouraged.

“I keep thinking: ‘Why me?’ Of all the people who could have gotten powers, I happened to get them. At times I feel guilty, almost like I cheated to gain my powers instead of being worthy of them somehow. I haven’t really told the others, but I have an ability that lets me take powers from other supers. Stealing them. Benefitting from the work and effort it took to hone and develop those skills from level one.”

BoJack’s eyes widened, but he nodded as Gus talked through his worries.

“Gus, my life has been pretty tough. Still is, I guess. No one really knows a lot about my past, but there’s a lot of pain there. I’ve also gotten to the point where I’ve been at rock bottom. I just kept asking myself: ‘What do I need to be happy again?’ I thought about it for ages. At first, I thought I just wanted to be free of all the negative influences in my life, but then I recalled my brother. After our parents were killed, he never really recovered. To avoid the whole situation, he sought to escape more and more, divorcing himself from this reality to spend more and more time in virtual games, where he could live an alternative fantasy life of his choosing. Eventually, he chose to check himself into a game hospice.”

“A game hospice?” Gus questioned.

“It is an option for those with severe depression that are classified as suicide risks. Basic body functions are supported while the individual stays wholly immersed in the game, only pausing to sleep. They blend the transition using sedatives and in-game prompts so the game becomes their whole reality.

“The trade-off is that even with the nanobots, their lifespan is shortened considerably. Humans weren’t designed to lay there prone for long periods of time. The body stagnates and they eventually pass as it just stops functioning. The euphemism they use is ‘failure to thrive.’ But Bobby failed to thrive a long time before he ever went to the hospice. Twenty-two years old and that was his choice.”

Gus didn’t know what to say as BoJack paused, allowing the silence to stretch as he gathered his thoughts. His own issues seemed so small and insignificant compared with how this guy had dealt with multiple issues that would have broken Gus if even one of them had impacted his life. And he showed none of it to the world. He didn’t parade his struggles in front of others for sympathy or special treatment. On top of that, he had even found a way to be happy.

“Do you feel guilty? Like you could have done more? I’m not saying that I think you didn’t help him or anything, but looking at myself, I think I always wonder if there is something I should have done that would have made a difference.”

“At first I did, yeah. Every damn day.” BoJack nodded. “Especially since I have a healing ability. Kept trying to see if this was just a problem with his brain chemistry that I could tweak and then he would be better. Some super-serotonin modification that would snap him out of his funk. I tried to be there and be supportive, but he just became more and more detached.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It was. I was a reminder of his old, painful life so, as he transitioned, he became less responsive. You can receive messages and even calls in-game, but he stopped accepting them more and more until he wouldn’t answer them at all. Whenever I would visit in person, he would be in his pod. I would stock the fridge and even make some food at times, leaving it for him to reheat. Near the end, I visited a week later and found that none of the food had been touched. I ran to his pod and banged on the lid. I pulled him out of the gel and removed the leads, laying him on the spongy mat outside. His pallid skin hung on his gaunt frame. He was wasting away in every conceivable way. The pod had sustained his base nutritional needs and the gel and nanobots managed waste removal and circulation so that he didn’t get bed sores but he looked like death boiled over.”

“Wow,” Gus whispered.

“After that, he signed some simple forms at the hospital and was moved directly to the game hospice. Apparently, it’s much cheaper for the government to do that than support them, provide training or counseling.” He sighed.

“So how do you do it? How did you find a way to be happy? I struggle with all these emotions and doubts almost constantly. Do you just push them down, or just stay so busy that they aren’t as pressing on your mind? I’m always worrying about the ‘what ifs.’ What if I don’t do this? What if I don’t make the right choice that would be obvious to someone with more experience?”

“I stopped comparing myself to others a long time ago. It was one of the things that was bringing me down. Asking myself, ‘Why did this happen to me?’ was something that always brought me down. It made me feel powerless. When something else happened, it felt like life was just piling on the misfortune. I went down that road, trying to see if I was bringing this misfortune on myself by some negative karma I had somehow gained. Envious of other people’s lives who seemed to sail through without a care, and how often those people were dishonest or at least extremely unethical. And no repercussions happened to them; in fact, they seemed to be thriving.”

“Exactly! It’s so discouraging,” Gus agreed. He gets