“Tho-” Jack winced.
Everything hurt.
His head felt like it had been split open. His eye sockets complained with a dull ache. His mouth felt like someone had taken a drill to it, opened his jaw, removed and replaced a tooth, implanted god knows what, and resealed it.
Which, to be fair, is exactly what had happned.
Not that knowing this helped the pain any. His left arm pulsed with every heart beat, and turning his hand made the bones in his wrist grind against each other. Worse, the electrodes that monitored his health pulled at the hairs on his chest every time he moved.
A couple were sacrificed before he stopped moving.With his good hand he reached out and pressed a button. The machine it was attached to beeped, and he felt an icy jet rush up his good arm.“If this is the future,” he thought, as the pain relief hit his system. “You can keep it.”
And slept the sleep of the drugged.This cycle continued – brief spikes of pain breaking through long, warm oceans of sleep – until the Third day, when he rose again.Jack shook his head. It didn’t split.
A doctor shone a torch in his eyes, and they didn’t scream at him. Sure, they complained, but not as much.
“Not as much pain?”
“Nu” His mouth still felt like bears regularly used it as a latrine. “Ih stirhurth buh nuh thomuch.” He smiled.And hoped he hadn’t drooled.
“Good, good.” The doctor wrote on his clipboard. “You know, this really is remarkable recovery. In a few days I think you’ll be ready to plug in.”
“In a few days,” Jack thought, and closed his eyes.
 

********

 

He woke, later, and saw his mobile phone on the table.

 With his good hand he felt over a flap of skin at his wrist. It felt, for all intents and purposes, like real skin. He played with the edge, found a small groove, pushed against it and felt it slide back.
Under the skin was a metallic channel, thin and cold to the touch. He reached out, grabbed his phone and slotted it into place.
His vision darkened, and he fought to stay conscious.
“Jethuth.” They told him his body would be part powering the phone when he slotted, and that the transition would be a little strange.
Slowly his vision cleared, and he waited for his ears to pop. His breath returned to normal, his heart beat steadied.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, searching for his first molar. It, too, felt normal. He was impressed that they kept the filling. It felt just like his old one.
He knew the drill – press down with his tongue, twice, and the tooth would activate his connection – he’d be in the net through his own system.
All the pain, all the waiting, was for this.
He hesitated. A voice in his head said, “What? Are you scared?”
“Of COURSE I’m scared. I’m shitting myself. If this doesn’t work, I fry my brains. Twat.”
He pressed his tooth. It didn’t move.
He pressed it again. Nothing.
Cautiously he moved his tongue across to the other side of his mouth. That tooth felt…synthetic. There was no filling. His smile would be better on that side. If his head flip topped.
He pressed his tooth.
Behind his eyes, there was an explosion – a white flash of pain the likes of which he’d never felt before. The explosion dissolved into small white balls, which twisted, and drained away. His ears rang with a hum, ending in a small chime – obviously the start up music.“That has to go…”Jack was floating in the middle of a space. Vast and stretching out into infinity. Small points of light disappeared into the distance. It was too much. He closed his eyes, but could still see it. He grasped for the familiar, felt the bed against his back and clung to it like an anchor.
But it was wrong. He was upright.
He turned, trying to see the bed and felt the pull of the tape against his chest. His stomach lurched as he span round at an incredible speed. There was no bed behind him – only more of the infinite, but the feeling still persisted. 
He lifted looked down. Where were his legs? He had no body. Could see no body. Could feel the weight of his body. Could smell his body. Lights yawned below him at an unimaginable depth. Vertigo sucker punched him in the stomach.
He tried to raise his hand, which was useless. He couldn’t stop gripping the mattress, which wasn’t there, and neither were his arms – 
“Why am I not falling?” 
He could feel his body against the bed. How was he feeling that when he had no body – when he was falling? He was so high…
His breathing came fast and raspy, his heart thumped at his chest. With a sharp pull sideways he was kicked out of the net, crashing back into his body. His stomach heaved and he finally vomited.
“Shit, I hope I don’t pas-“ And he passed out.
 

*****

 When he woke, there were nurses cleaning him up and the nice doctor from earlier standing over his bed. Except now he didn’t look so nice.
Now, he looked angry.
While the medical staff didn’t chew Jack a new arsehole, they did mark the area it would be in, and described, in great detail, the procedure they would use if he ever pulled a stunt like that again.