This is Telepathy
by Megan Neumann
Sarah sticks the needle in her arm and falls backwards, feeling the pain of the wound and the soft sheets of her bed. It doesn't hit her immediately. Several minutes pass as the nanites travel through her bloodstream and latch onto her brain. To Sarah, those minutes last an eternity. Each time she injects, the wait feels longer than the time before. She craves for the connection to be initiated, to be alive with the world again.
The nanites will attach to the neurons in her brain and enable a wireless data connection. The interpreter software she installed months earlier render the webpages as something that can be interacted with by thought alone.
When her connection goes live this time, the banging on her bedroom door starts. A hundred webpages appear in her mind, her session from last time restored--Twitter feeds, Facebook statuses, and a thousand Instagram photos flood into view. She consumes them hungrily as the banging on the door grows louder.
"This is telepathy," she whispers as the thoughts of thousands fill her mind. Those that also injected update their statuses with their thoughts, and Sarah knows them as they know her own.
Injecting is illegal, but that's rarely enforced. Sarah thinks the illegality of it pointless. It is a precautionary measure since the long-term effects are unknown. There have been a few cases of the injected wandering outside under the influence and causing accidents. Sarah knows better. She locks herself in her room where she lies in bed, enjoying her connection to the world.