Godspeed

Chapter 14

I fell into a fitful slumber soon after. I was troubled by questions and doubts that played upon my mind as I slept. Nightmare images of what had been done to me, and how dependent upon the mechanical I had become, visited me time and again.

Sometimes I would dream of the pain alone and would wake in a fever, gasping for air and terrified of what would happen next.

Most nights the exhaustion forced me back into sleep and usually the much better kind, without the trouble of unconscious thought.

This night, however, when I dreamed of the pain it was all too real, even after I opened my eyes.

It was a shock when the door to my room flew open and Godspeed rushed toward me. He did not even take the listening scope to my chest before he picked me up off of sheets soaked from fever. He carried me straight down to the laboratory, sparing no time to reconnect me to the box.

I scarcely remember that dark, haunted time.

Infection had set in, and recovery was never assured. Days went by in increments, either too fast to be recalled or too slow to be believed.

The doctor stayed by my side constantly, talking to Schuyler as he would come in and out at intervals, or talking to himself under the guise of talking to me when I was either too delirious or weak with drug to understand.

My life degenerated into a continual process of trial and error over which I had no control. Quinn spoke to me, in my more lucid moments, of the medicines taking hold to heal me, then of the different sorts of power sources he had tried to regulate the voltage to the unholy contraption he affixed to my chest.

There were tense evenings, when I would hear the doctor and Schuyler argue, but was mostly unable to make out the words they hurled at each other in their anger.

During the course of these quarrels, doors were often slammed; sometimes glass was broken. I tried to focus my eyes toward the direction their voices carried from, but all I could see was the dark, impregnable wood paneling on the walls.

How this was possible, I didn’t understand. Their voices were close by, but I was unable to determine their exact location.

One very late night, after yet another surgical procedure had required the doctor use the strongest methods at his disposal to sedate me, my curiosity was further piqued.

I awoke to find Schuyler had suddenly appeared at my side, though I was absolutely certain that the door had neither opened nor closed.

Still, I could barely spare the strength to wonder, as it was all I could do most of the time simply to keep drawing one breath after another. I had to learn to live all over again with the violent, intense thumping that substituted for my own diluted heartbeat.

Finally the fever relented, and I was returned to my room to sleep a few hours each night.

I awoke with the sound of birds and turned toward the newly dawning springtime, and I yearned for the warmth of it upon my face.

#

My strength soon rallied.

It was by far the happiest spring I had ever known, even if I could only appreciate the newly budding blooms in the shimmering glow of prevailing moonlight as I peeked through heavy, drawn curtains.

He was near, and that was all that mattered.

For at least a few moments every day, he was so close I could almost touch him, and when he was, there was nothing more in the world I could have wanted or asked for.

He spoke to me as if I was worth taking notice of, and I longed for our talks, no matter how short they may be.

In his company, I saw myself as a different person. I was no longer the servant’s child, born and destined to take up the same humble work of my parents’ hands and of their parents as well. It was not that I thought I was too good for it — on the contrary, I had never imagined myself suited to anything else, let alone 'better', as the world would so unkindly describe it.