“That would be it. We just need your signature now, Mr. Walters.” the blonde said.

She handed me a tablet. I’d prefer a piece of paper.

“Welcome to CrIO, Mr. Walters. This way — if you could follow me please.”

Belgium was rainy and cold when I got here a week ago. Other countries have also legalised euthanasia — but this new cheap startup chose Belgium for their headquarters.

Damn, I missed California.

“I guess I should just lie here, right?”

The blonde nodded.

I was twenty-six years old the first time I got cancer. Chemo, couple of operations, and they said I was cured.

I’m thirty-three now — and it’s back again.

Terminal.

I had a good run, I think. Broke up with my girlfriend six months ago, the second doctors told me I have less than a year left. Sold my company last week and came here.

Came here to die.

So that I might live. Maybe. Possibly.

I did read about cryogenics, or whatever it is called. Fringe, could work. Will likely fail.

I had nothing to lose.

“This might sting a bit.” the blonde interrupted my thoughts.