Shift.ms is better if you're logged in

They didn’t catch a virus. They caught MS. It started with a tingle. Then came the mysterious fatigue no one took seriously. By 28 days in, society hadn’t collapsed but a concerning number of people were falling over for no reason, losing feeling in random limbs, and quietly Googling “why does my eye hurt when I move it.” 28 years later, humanity limps on. Literally. No one’s eaten anyone (yet), but half the population has dropped things they can’t pick up, forgotten what they were doing mid sentence, or developed an emotional support heating pad. The roads are empty, because no one’s confident enough to drive anymore. Eye patches are in. Bladder control is out. The survivors live scattered across the countryside, a slow-moving resistance. Some are blind. Some can’t feel their legs. Some haven’t had a decent bowel movement in over a decade and consider prune juice a controlled substance. Leading them is a ragtag group of warriors: Linda, who can smell a relapse coming but can't smell bacon. Rob, whose foot drop has caused more property damage than a minor earthquake. Sharon, whose bowels are either in complete shutdown or full breach And Gary, who insists on wearing a cape made of old MRI scans. No one knows why. Not even Gary. But their biggest nemesis isn’t the disease. It’s the last neurologist on Earth Dr. Gretchen who says things like “It’s Probably Stress” who still insists MS isn’t painful, just “a bit inconvenient.” He survives off denial, protein shakes and telling people to “stay positive” while they try to explain what Lhermitte’s sign feels like using only interpretive dance. There are no jump scares, just the terrifying moment when you realize you’ve had pins and needles for so long you forgot what normal feels like. And instead of a dramatic chase scene, you get a tense 12 minute sequence where someone tries to stand up off a couch without looking like they’ve been shot. This isn’t a zombie apocalypse. This is worse. This is the MS Apocalyps a painfully slow decline into medical gaslighting, unreliable limbs, and a future where the only thing faster than your disease progression is how quickly people forget you're sick. Coming soon to a brain lesion near you. No cure. No sprinting. Just forever bullshit and Velcro shoes.