I signed up for a test run.

I was sick of my life. No wife. No kids. No job. I really had nothing to look forward to.

I was as empty as a hollow shell.

One day, my brother told me he’d signed himself up for a test run organised by a huge tech company to test one of their latest product.

He said it was a secret project. The tech company sent agents to contact the desperate ones.

He said he was contacted by one and immediately agreed to it.

I knew why he did so. He needed money to pay for his little girl’s treatment. The money was good. But not as good to cover all the medical bills. He’d told me how expensive it was.

I pondered over it for minutes before I said I wanted to do it, too. Being suicidal and not being able to kill myself, I thought this would be the perfect way to vanish from the face of the Earth.

I meet him at his house today– the day of the test run.

He says we’ll meet the agent at his house and he’ll take us to the secret facility.

We get in the taxi and ride through the busy road. After what feels like hours, we finally make it to the agent’s house.

The agent gives me a weird look. Of course, because he hadn’t contacted me. I’d volunteered.

My brother takes him in the corner and tries to convince him to let me join, too.

“So, am I in?” I had to barge into their conversation.

The agent brings out a vial and an injection. “Yes you are, but you both need to be made unconscious before I take you to the facility.”

“Sure, whatever,” I say, folding up my sleeves.

I am relieved.

And happy.

At least my life would be used to create a scientific revolution.

And at least my brother will be able to save his little girl after I hand over my cheque to him, once I receive it.

The agent pushes the needle through my vein and dizziness overcomes me.

I am now being taken inside a room, and not a…car?

My brother helps the agent lift me up.

The agent has now worn a stethoscope?

My brother looks…sad?

I want to talk to him but I only manage to whisper out some gibberish.

I notice him moving his lips. “I’m sorry, Josh. It’s not money that’s gonna save my daughter.” he suppresses a sob. “It’s a healthy heart.”

He’s talking again. “I’d have given mine, but that way she’ll become an orphan.”

He’s now drenched in tears, as the agen–the doctor brings out his operation kit.

Now, who’s gonna tell him that if he’d told me about it before, I’d given him mine without thinking twice.

Because every hollow shell has a pearl in the middle.

And mine…was my heart.