Would I or wouldn’t I? Should I or shouldn’t I? It was a real dilemma.

I had heard how heart disease really took a hold in the 21st Century. The rates, though, were nothing compared to what we have now, a century later. Average life spans had plummeted from mid seventies to late forties. And heart disease did not discriminate between the rich and the poor, unlike every other factor in our daily lives.

And there had lay my dilemma. The huge drug conglomerates were only pumping so much money in to research to help the wealthy sector. Should a cure be discovered, people like myself, my family, my friends, would be the last to benefit. What medical facilities we have access to are both unethically underfunded and disastrously overcrowded. I had marched to change things but nothing had ever improved.

My finger had hovered above the screen. All it needed was my thumb print and then I would become a part of ‘The Study’. If only I’d known then what I know now, would I have made a different decision?

The truth? Probably not.

‘The Study’ was paying, and it was paying well. Far more money than I would ever make in more than two years. We were cold and hungry. There had never been enough of an income to pay for both adequate food and heating. The result was we scrimped on both. How could I have turned that opportunity down?

My thumb had pressed firmly on the screen and instructions had instantly downloaded to my wristpad. There had been no point in thinking any more about it. I had signed up, and if I had not turned up as instructed I would have been... collected.

As part of my contract I had been sent the necessary travel tokens to get to my destination. I rode on the high tech luxury transport system that I’d only ever seen in brochures. The further I’d got from my home, the cleaner everywhere became. No litter to be seen. No shanty towns. Not a loiterer; not even a pedestrian. It was as though I’d stepped into another world.

The headquarters of OCORP had made me feel even more like an alien. White was everywhere. Even the glass and steel had a hint of whiteness to it. My guide had rolled towards me, fully automated but made to look almost, but not quite, human. No words were exchanged. The mechanical hand had grabbed my wrist and had processed my details in less than a second.

‘Sector C’ flashed across those robot eyes, and I was escorted to a door that slid open. I had walked through but my automaton companion did not follow.

The hallway was narrow, totally featureless until an illuminated arrow appeared on the floor. I’d stepped forward, following the direction, finding the silence of my footsteps uncanny. As soon as I had stepped into a large room, a woman stepped forward, pressed my wristpad, then led me away to a small cubicle.

“Thank you for volunteering,” the woman said. Trying not to be obvious I’d checked her out; she did appear to be human, although her face had remained oddly expressionless. “Please put on the clothes provided, and put your own personal effects through there.” She had pointed to a small door in the wall.

“I...” Before I had had the chance to ask if my possessions would be returned once the study was finished, she had turned and walked away.

I had not taken long in getting changed into the white translucent jumpsuit. Obviously modesty had no place in OCORP. My possessions had disappeared through the hole in the wall that made me think of a rubbish chute. I’d told myself not to be so paranoid. My possessions, the best clothes and shoes that I owned, were being packed up and stored safely.

Another person had entered the room, male this time. “Let’s get things started.” A bed had appeared at the press of a switch and he indicated that I should make myself comfortable. I had watched as he summoned up more and more equipment from seemingly nowhere, attaching sensors to my body through the suit.

“Is it an injection?” There; I’d managed to give voice to a question for the first time since stepping through the building’s doors.

“No, tablet. You really have nothing to worry about.” He had passed me an innocuous looking capsule, half orange, half green.

“Well, I guess it’s kill or cure,” I’d quipped.

The man watching me swallow the capsule, smiled, but it was the kind that stopped at the mouth and never reached the eyes.

“How long... ?” I’d started to ask before I had noticed the man was gone from beside me and was seated in a sealed cubicle, tapping away at keys.

And that is where I am now, in a bed, alone. My mouth is dry and my head feels as though it is being pressed in some kind of industrial vice. The light above me dims. Is this supposed to make me feel reassured? If it is, it is failing badly.

Hearts! I can’t get them out of my mind. So many people were finding theirs shrinking, shrivelling, losing the strength to go on beating. Withered! Worthless! Not up to the job it needed to do. How come mine feels as though it is growing, expanding at an impossible rate.

I hear what sounds like a groan. Don’t know where it comes from. It’s been so silent here. And then it hits me; the groan was from my lips, from my body, from my heart. I feel like I have a galloping balloon inflating inside my chest, squeezing and relaxing at such a pace it cannot possibly maintain it.

The man does not even look up as I try to tell him I need help, that The Study is all going wrong. Surely he must see what is happening to me from those figures he’s receiving. He’ll help! He’ll give me something to make it stop!

I cannot even see him now. My vision is nothing but a pulsating black and red. There is no cure, there never was. I doubt my family will ever be paid. And I know when my heart makes its final beat, that I won’t be alive to demand that OCORP holds up their part of the agreement.