Expiration Date

Cures by subscription

medical patient

Expiration Date

Willliam M. Carter

A Short Story

Jack Reese sat in the examination room of MedPro Clinic #47, hands folded in his lap, eyes fixed on the closed door. Within a few minutes Dr. Diane Shaw, wearing the standard white lab coat entered the room.

She greeted him with a faint smile, without looking into his eyes.

“Jack, the scans confirm it. Stage 4. Aggressive metastasis. Pancreas, liver, and spine.”

Jack nodded, as though he’d known. He had hoped it wasn’t cancer but wasn’t surprised. The fatigue, weight loss, and the persistent cough. He'd chalked it all up to stress, late nights from working two jobs that barely fed him for a week.

“How long?” he asked.

“Without treatment? A few weeks. Maybe a month. There is an option.”

His ears perked up.

“It’s not covered by CareNet,” she said. “But we offer a proprietary therapy called VitaPlus. A subscription protocol, using cellular therapy, genetic programming, and immunity enhancements. Full remission within a year.”

Jack leaned forward. “How much?”

She gestured toward the flat screen TV, displaying payment plans.

• Platinum – 18 months: Full cure, full restoration. $249,000/year.

• Gold – 12 months: Likely remission. $179,000/year.

• Silver – 9 months: Significant regression. $99,000/year.

All plans are billed monthly. Booster access may vary. Continued eligibility based on compliance and vitality index.

“What about insurance, don’t they provide some coverage?”

“No. As I mentioned earlier CareNet does not cover any of the costs. I’m sorry. You can fundraise, or we offer credit plans through VitalBank.”

Jack didn’t hear the rest. He was already doing the math in his head. He could sell the truck. Take a reverse mortgage on his brother’s property, if he agreed. He could sell his tools and tap into his meager pension.

Maybe the 9-month plan…

Three weeks later, he sat in the same room with a port planted into his chest. His skin seemed to glow as the first VitaPlus infusion began.

A pleasant sensation spread through his body, tingling fingers and toes. The procedure wasn’t even completed yet when he began feeling better. He smiled.

This just might work.

Nine Months Later

Jack was running down the sidewalks of Sector 8, sweat pouring down his back as his neural implant tracked his gait and breathing.

“You’ve completed 89% of today’s Vitality Quota,” chirped the AI assistant inside his ear.

Well done, Jack. Consider trying a gluten-free protein bar to boost your regenerative metrics.

He smiled and slowed to a jog. People on the sidewalk gave him peculiar glances, noting the subtle light from his implant.

One week left. Better go renew.

“Declined? This is a mistake. I need to renew today!” His voice was loud.

The attendant, a pale young man behind the desk, didn’t look up. He tapped again on his console.

“Your booster request was denied. Future Cost Analysis predicts low ROI. Your Lifespan Recovery Estimate is insufficient to justify extension.”

Jack blinked. “What? I’ve improved. I jog every day, and I haven’t smoked. My compliance is perfect.”

The man shrugged. “Your age and condition suggest a diminishing return. You’re flagged in Tier Red.”

“I can pay,” Jack said, desperate. “Just the booster. Six months.”

“Booster eligibility is based on more than payment. Your Vitality Score has peaked. You're past the projected efficiency curve.”

Jack’s hands trembled. “You’re going to let me die because I’m not profitable?”

The man’s voice went cold. “That’s not how we frame it.”

Subscription Enforcement Division

Jack didn’t know what the Subscription Police were until he saw them firsthand.

They weren’t real police. They were Continuity Officers, trained by MedPro’s Compliance Division. They wore gray uniforms with digital shoulder patches and arrived unannounced at his apartment one day after his subscription expired.

“Mr. Reese,” said the lead officer, a tall woman with mirrored lenses and a handheld scanner. “Your VitaPlus implant has not been surrendered.”

Jack was sitting on the floor, nausea wracking his gut. His skin had turned gray. The tumor pain was returning like a knife twisting in his gut.

“I... I thought I had more time.” He coughed.

“Failure to remove proprietary biotech within the grace period is a violation of MedPro’s Intellectual Property Clause. We’re here to retrieve company assets.”

She reached for him.

Jack retreated.

From the corner, a gaunt man with a shaved head stepped into view. “Let’s make this easy. We’ll deactivate the unit and issue a final vitality report. We can then retrieve the device when he expires.”

He held up a palm-sized device. It chirped. Jack felt the implant burn his skin.

He screamed.

The Underground

Three days later, Jack woke up in a warehouse in the Old Sector. The ceiling was riddled with exposed wiring and the walls were filled with holes. A woman with catlike eyes leaned over him.

“You’re lucky,” she said. “We intercepted your expiration signal just before your system died.”

Who are you?” Jack whispered.

She smiled.

“We’re what happens when you outlive your subscription. I’m Rachel.”

They called themselves The Expired, former VitaPlus clients who’d hacked or stolen their way out of the system. Some still glowed faintly. Others were near death.

“We trade. Share black-market boosters, steal parts, and patch codes. Sometimes we save people. Most times, we don’t.”

Jack stared at the old monochrome computer monitor. Real time surveillance feeds, supply chains, and backdoor code snippets coming in directly from MedPro’s servers.

“You’re fighting them?” Jack asked

“We’re surviving them.”

The Final Shot

“You sure about this?” Rachel asked, as she loaded the stolen booster into the manual injector.

“This could kill you.” She handed the injector to Jack.

“I’m already dead.”

Jack injected the booster into his neck.

Epilogue

A month later, a video surfaced on the darknet, and every decentralized server.

A shaking camera, and a thinner Jack Reese told his story in great detail. He spewed names and held charts showing cost-benefit files from MedPro’s internal servers.

“Human life is not a subscription, and we are not algorithms.”

The clip went viral.

Then it was gone, wiped clean by MedPro censors. The video was flagged as misinformation and propaganda by the company.

Jack died three days after he made the video.

Every time someone new stumbles into The Expired underground burned and rejected, she shows them the video clip.

“You see that guy?” she’d say. “That was Jack. He mattered.”

The living members of The Expired group continue to fight and disrupt MedPro every chance they get.

It’s too soon to tell if they are winning.

The End