“Time’s up!” The mechanical voice echoed through the sterile chamber. Sarah’s fingers trembled as she adjusted her respirator, the excitement making her breath fog up the clear plastic mask.
“How many points this round, Dr. Chen?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
The aging doctor looked up from his tablet, his eyes crinkling behind thick-rimmed glasses. “Eight hundred and twelve. That’s… remarkable, Miss Walker.”
The stark white room, filled with blinking monitors and sleek medical equipment, had become Sarah’s second home over the past six months. She was one of the thousands participating in The Breathing Game - a controversial medical trial that gamified respiratory therapy.
“You know,” Dr. Chen said, setting down his tablet, “when I started practicing medicine thirty years ago, we would never have imagined treating patients this way.”
Sarah removed her respirator, revealing a wan smile. “Different times, Dr. Chen. Besides, what choice do we have? The air outside…”
“Indeed.” He glanced at the sealed windows, beyond which the perpetual brown haze loomed. “But I worry sometimes. The competitive nature of these trials - it’s changing people.”
“Is it though?” Sarah challenged, her voice stronger now. “Or is it just revealing who we’ve always been?”
Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp knock. Marcus, another participant, stood in the doorway, his own respirator clutched tightly in his hand. His score card displayed a mere 324 points.
“I heard about your score, Sarah,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Marcus.” Sarah noticed how his knuckles whitened around the respirator.
“You know they’re only accepting the top five scores for the next phase,” he continued. “The clean air communities…”
The unspoken weight of his words hung in the air. The promise of life in one of the few remaining clean air zones - a privilege reserved for those who proved themselves “worthy” through these trials.
Dr. Chen cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Perhaps we should focus on the medical benefits of-”
“Oh, please,” Marcus interrupted. “We all know what this is really about. It’s not about therapy anymore. It’s about who gets to breathe.”
Sarah watched as he turned and walked away, his shoulders rigid with tension. She picked up her respirator again, studying her reflection in its surface.
“Same time tomorrow, Dr. Chen?”
The old doctor nodded slowly, his expression troubled. “Yes, Miss Walker. Same time tomorrow.”
Through the glass walls, Sarah could see other participants in their chambers, all connected to their respirators, all playing the game. Some wore expressions of determination, others of desperation. All of them breathing, competing, surviving.
The mechanical voice crackled through the speakers once more: “Next session beginning in five minutes. Please prepare your respirators.”
Sarah slipped her mask back on, feeling the familiar rush of filtered air. In the reflection of the window, she caught a glimpse of her own eyes - wide, focused, and perhaps a little afraid. But mostly excited. Always excited.