The doctor inserted a small needle in my forearm. Immediately, a beep sounded on the computer nearby that was testing my blood. The doctor and I stared at the screen. Positive.

I was rushed to a secure area separate from everyone else. By the end of the day, they had found four people to be positive out of the hundred that were tested.

I lay in the hospital under close supervision and wondered what would happen next.

As the days passed, I got worse. Uneasily, I leaned over the side of the bed and vomited into the module they had given me. I was almost getting used to it.

The pandemic was now so severe that nobody in Detroit was allowed outside their house unless authorised. The media reported they were closer to finding a treatment but it would take time.

I was a lab rat being tested with anything that had a remote chance of working. Of course, nothing did. All it brought was more pain. I also sometimes heard screams from the rooms beside me.

I remember how this all started. I was with my friends in a nightclub called The Shark. It was meant to be a special day for me, because it was my eighteenth birthday. I grabbed my girlfriend’s hand and dragged her to a table. She looked beautiful that day. The sensor on the table sensed us coming and the screens automatically flared to life.

“Hello, my name is ATOM. What would you like today?”

ATOM was a relatively new technology being trialled by restaurants in Detroit. They had started to appear in the 1930s, when businesses started to automate everything instead of employing people.

I was startled to hear a blood-curling scream from the dance floor. Dancers frantically dispersed. I watched, overwhelmed by the shattering of glass and cries around me. That was the first victim I saw: a young woman had fallen unconscious in the middle of the floor.

“Someone call a doctor!”

These words triggered ATOM to contact emergency services immediately. Within minutes, the whole building was evacuated and everyone was ordered home.

As I got home, my vision started to blur and I vomited. Surveillance at The Shark had identified me as a potential victim, and pandemic control specialists had collected me from my apartment before the night ended.

And now I spend my days in this hospital, in perpetual pain. I don’t know what would happen to me. The world has fought against viruses like this one before, but many people have died. The only thing I have left now is prayer. I know I don’t have long to live, so I’m hoping there will be a cure in time. I wonder how many people are in the same position as me, lying in a hospital and pondering their fate.

I was brought back to reality by the doctor entering solemnly.

“I have news.”