Naturally...

It’s some sort of heart shaped logo with a plus sign. It’s labeled AMA. What the fuck? Did they put something on my phone while I was in lockup? Not really watching where you’re going you move to delete it, sure that the cops are going to be using it to track you. Or that it’s some sort of donation thing for the American Medical Association, and after several of your mom’s insurance claims got denied, you’re sure as hell not giving those vampires anything.

As soon as the “Deleting AMA will also remove all associated content and settings” pops up, you hit yes. And are surprised when the damn thing seemingly reinstalls itself. Your next move is to just shut cellular data off... they can’t track you if you’re not transmitting. Then you finally open the app.

Another pop-up: Welcome to the Affection Multiplier. You have been given a gift. Enjoy.

Thumbing the pop up closed greets you with another one: Cellular data turned off. Real-time updates may not be available. Continue in off-line mode?

You quickly thumb the yes button and more text pops up on your screen. Sadly as intriguing as this is, you and Beth have arrived at Essentia hospital. It’s time to visit mom. You slip the phone into your pocket and walk through the sliding glass doors.

You hate hospitals. People die in hospitals. You’re pretty sure mom is going to relatively soon. Stage four colon cancer. Chemo hasn’t helped. And things are getting worse. More than anything else you wish you could do something... anything for her. I mean, ass cancer. Horribly painful, and even if they can remove it, you end up shitting in a bag for the rest of your life.

The antiseptic smells and faint odor of urine greet you as you get off the elevator at the oncology floor. It’s bad enough that they admitted her this time. They’re not expecting for her to leave on her own.