The Many Worlds of K. A. Webb

The last thing I remember before falling asleep, or possibly passing out, was how badly my entire body ached. Like everyone else I’d had the injection. All the actors had gone first, waving for the cameras, somehow managing to act normal when they came out, as though everything was fine even though they must have all felt as bad as I did. The director had followed, because people knew him too, and it was important that they saw someone they felt they knew going in for the injection. It would do good things for the fear some of the newspapers had been spreading, about how the injection hadn’t been properly tested.

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