She waved the lights off as she sank into her mattress. The springs squeaked as she turned over and felt along her nightstand until her fingers brushed against a braided cable. She dragged the connector against her neck stopping when it scraped against a port. She applied pressure until a hallow plastic click echoed through the room. Her body churned in the sheets until she found a comfortable linen entanglement. The possibility of sleep summoned a disquieting pall. In the dark her vision blurred until her eyes vibrated with the knowledge that a peaceful rest would not come. Once consciousness fell away, the machine auctioned away dormant synapses. In return she received a slipstream of wayward visions, a scant few dollars, and the joy waking fatigued. Though, for her, fatigue was a devil less menacing than financial precarity.
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