Amy sucked on the enzyme lollipop and contemplated the holographic game board. She moved a piece and the AI moved three for the win.
“You cheat,” she accused and threw her lollipop through the board image, which popped like a blister.
The maintenance sensors dispatched a robo-scrubber to clean up the sticky mess.
Amy knew she needed the enzymes to thrive, but the candy tasted like ass.
Still, her parents hadn’t gone to all the trouble to therapeutically kill her in 2012 only to have her new doctors label her “non-compliant” in 2042.
Amy sighed and unwrapped another lollipop.