Chapter Text
[Eye movement detected.]
My eyes blink on their own accord before I force them shut, internally screaming at the dim light for attacking my pupils. A soft mechanic purr fills the silence, enticing me to open back my eyes. I jump in surprise, or at least I try to, as I see a sort of robotic arm lean towards me, its three fingers reaching to my chin and grabbing onto something.
Before I can even think about figuring out what caught its interest, I feel something slide along my throat as I see the arm pull back from me. I gag, causing the foreign object to hurt the back of my mouth. A coughing fit overtakes me and I go to cover my mouth by habit. But my arm doesn’t cooperate with me, too weak to be lifted in one smooth motion to my face.
[What is 2 + 2?]
I pay no mind to the feminine voice, instead trying my best to look at where I am. It is a small room, with walls of a dull shade of grey, almost white in places. It feels… stripped of any character. Am I in a hospital?
[What is 2 + 2?]
I turn my gaze back to what seems to be where the voice is coming from and it lands on the robotic arm, slowly moving around, as if assessing me. Its base is attached to the wall, I notice, and it is not a single, stranded arm. I would probably shudder at the sight if I could.
Okay.. so I can’t really move my arm, let’s try something smaller. I attempt to wiggle my toes and even if it takes my whole willpower I manage to do it. That’s a start! While I keep trying to jog back energy into my feet, I decide to finally acknowledge the arm’s question.
"Hmpf.."
[Incorrect. What is 2 + 2?]
Yeah, ‘Hmpf’ isn’t exaclty the answer to that question. I take a deep breath -because I just realized that I can- and try to muster the word through my aching throat.
"Ngf..aah" Well, I tried.
[Incorrect. What is 2 +2?]
If I can’t satisfy this robot, I will at least satisfy my curiosity. I can move my legs thanks to my wiggle exercises so I try to swing them to the left, hanging off my bed. The momentum takes me with and instead of simply helping me stand up, I end up falling off the matress with a thud. Aouch.
[Body movement detected. For your own safety, please return to the medical platform.]
As it speaks, the arm leans toward me, claw open, and I drag myself to the side as fast as possible to get away from it. ‘Medical platform’, maybe this is really a hospital. A weird looking one at least. I watch the arm retract once I am out of its range.
[Please remember muscle function has not yet been restored.]
I use my feet to push me towards the nearest wall and rest my back against it for a moment. My body is aching a bit, like I have been sleeping for days on end without waking up. I look down at my body, I am in an odd transparent-white suit. I rest my head back against the wall. I don’t remember getting here. Or ever been here before. If I am in a hospital, it’s probably because something happened to me. Maybe I was put in a coma for my safety. The arm was apparently not satisfied with my not answering its previous question, because it asks another.
[What is your name?]
How many dumb questions are there going to be? I open my mouth to try my luck at speaking again but freeze before I do. What is my name? I close my eyes, I am a woman, caucasian, my hands look to be the ones of someone who’s middle aged. I try a wild guess, "Emily."
[Incorrect. What is your name?]
I try Amanda, then Kate, still incorrect. I’m sure it’ll come back to me.
[Eye movement detected.]
This time, the voice came from farther away in the room. That inquires me to take more of the room in. There are three more beds like mine, each with their own robot arm looking carefully down at them. But one of them is reaching out to its patient. A ladder is fixed to the wall farthest from me, leading to what looks to be a door in the ceiling.
I put my hand on the wall, using it to help me get to my feet. I am wobbly and it feels like this is my first time ever learning how to walk but I’m sure this too will come back to me. I’m sure.
I look back at the arm that was looking over me, it seems to still be waiting for an answer on who I am. I pad to the other person who seems to be waking up. Their robot pulls a tube from inside their mouth and I cringe. No wonder this procedure hurt me.
My back leans on the wall next to them, serving as support to keep me standing. The other person is a man, caucasian too. He has long hair and a beard. He looks like he just came back from the dead. I selfishely hope I don’t look as disheveled as he does.
The man coughs and tries to speak, without success.
[What is 2 + 2?]
He lets out a small scream, as if testing his vocal chords. His eyes land on me and wiggles to the side as if in fear. Or maybe he was just startled. I mean, if he, in the state he currently is, was the first face I saw upon waking up I would have freaked out too. In trying to get away from me, he falls off his matress.
I walk the short distance to the side of the bed he is at and kneel before him. I try my best at what I assume to be a comforting smile and cross my legs under me. I don’t necessarily want to make him talk, or even talk myself, not with the pain it produces. But I imagine it can maybe bring him some form of comfort to have someone next to him.
He takes a few deep breaths in and turns on his back to look at the ceiling. "Whmff.." he attempts.
I look back to the other two beds in the room, they should be awaking soon since we both just did. Or maybe that was just luck. The man and I stay unmoving for what feels like a minute or two before his voice is heard again, "Whe..where.." he doesn’t push to say more, probably exhausted by the small effort.
I try to think of an answer, surely I should know. Surely the answer to his question is somewhere in my brain, buried deep under the medication and groginness of a coma. "Don’t know," my voice breaks, my throat being dry doesn’t help. I’m need to drink something soon or talking will not get any easier.
His breaths shakes on the exhale. He is as lost as I am. A hand on his bed helps me push myself up. I feel his eyes follow me as I make my way to the bed closest to his. "Sleeping?" he manages.
I don’t answer. On the bed is laying another woman, she has dark hair and a lean nose. But her skin is dull. Her cheeks are hollow and when I look at it, her chest is still, not swaying with any breath.
I gaze over at the fourth bed, eyes locked on the last person’s chest, and I wait with bated breaths.
"Sleeping?" he asks again, there is a slight quiver to his voice. Whether it is from the soreness of his vocal chords or because of what he reads on my face, I will never know.
I shake my head. "Dead. Both." There is a pang in my chest. Like some part of me feels sad at this realization. Of course, an average person will feel pained at seeing corpses from up close. But that isn’t it. It feels like a personal loss, like grief.
I turn my head back down to the woman, scrutanizing what is left of her features, trying to jog my memory. She seems familiar and I feel prompted to put my hand on her cheek and silently wish her a good rest, wherever she is.
In my peripheral vision, the man is trying to stand up, pushing on his hands with a grunt until he lands on his knees. He seems exhausted. I wonder if I do too. I swallow and the feeling of my saliva going down reminds me of my basic need : hydration. "Water?" I ask the man with a nod. But before he can answer, the other woman’s robot moves and hands me a cup of water.
[Water.]
My eyebrows quirk up at that. If I knew it was that simple, I would have done it earlier. I take the cup and look back over to my new acquaintance who seems as relieved as me that we can quench our thirst that easily. "Water," he says, barely above a whisper. An arm extends to him and he quickly downs his drink.
We look at each other then, it feels like he is studying me but I don’t really mind it, I’m doing the same to him. His hair is a long mess of what looks to be blond under the grease. If I was closer I could be sure of I but I think he has a very small dent on the bridge of his nose, does he wear glasses?
Yes. I don’t know why but I know he does wear glasses. Do I know him? It feels like I do. The small moment of analizing each other is gone as he sits on the edge of his bed, looking in the far distance of his thoughts. He looks back at me after a few seconds, looking somewhat alarmed "Why-" his voice cracks and he coughs, asking for more water and gulping it down before speaking up again. "Why are we here?"
I shrug, finishing my cup and handing it back to the arm -which puts the cup in a compartment in the ceiling- before walking to the ladder, "Let’s figure it out," my voice still has a slight rasp, a small weight pressing down on my ’t’s and an edge cutting into my ‘r’s. Maybe it’s an accent?
The climb makes me feel weighted, like something is pulling me towards the ground. I double in efforts, pushing with my legs rather than puling with my hands. Once I get at the top of the ladder, I hook an arm to a ledge and take a breath. Either I have a really hard time 'restoring my muscle functions’ or something is odd. My hooked arm serves as leverage while I use the other one to try to turn the handle of the latch above me. It takes all my remaining strength to then push the latch up and pull myself through it.
Shuffling makes me glance down the ladder before taking in the newly unlocked room. The man is at the bottom of it, redying himself for the small yet draining climb. I extend my hand to him and once in reach, he takes it. Blue eyes meet mine and as I haul him to me I can’t help but be distracted by the contact. Not because of it happening. But because of how familiar his hand feels inside mine.
He stills for a bit, gaze following my withdrawing hand before repeating my words back to me, “Let’s figure it out."