Awake

THIRTY FOUR

When the world reformed, it was one with a fundamental sense of disconnection. I blinked and could feel my eyelashes against my cheek, the icy cold of the memory-piece seeping through my blood, and a draft against my ankles. Yet, the images before my eyes didn't match the sensations my body was registering – I was disconnected, cut off –witnessing, not participating. It was like being inside some kind of virtual reality: a scene with rapidly shifting camera angles and an unstable focus. But I couldn't flick a switch. I couldn't look away.

Though my body didn't move, my vision suddenly twisted to the side: as though whoever's perspective I was currently reliving – Dr. Foreau, hadn't Rao said? – had just looked behind them. I immediately felt nauseous. It's a bizarre, sickening sensation, seeing your entire range of vision shift before your eyes without moving your head. It feels like being really drunk, or fainting – both dizzying and unpleasant.

With difficulty, I forced my brain to register what was still occurring before my eyes. My ears also detected sound. Once I became aware of it, it rushed on me like a wave.

Someone was... humming? I could also hear a low buzzing and a strange, liquid noise.

My view of the room flickered and I realised that Dr. Foreau had just blinked. There was nothing behind us except a golden, twisted floor. Our vision swung back around, passing – without focusing on – the glass wall we were standing beside. I caught a glimpse of darkness, a blurred sea of distant lights – was it night time? – and a wide, white-clad figure reflected in the glass before Foreau focussed on the slim, scared-looking man standing before us.

"Dr... Ma'am, I think..."

"I told you to get out," I shivered. Foreau's voice – so close and immediate it felt like it was coming from my own mouth – was motherly, with soft edges: but the words were cold. "Now, or I'll give you to Azami. She's already run out of Partials. I don't know what she's doing with them."

Her eyes focused on a slim metal semi-circle around the man's throat. The band was midway up his neck, fastened sideways, so it ended right above his windpipe. A small light in it glowed green. I wondered how it stayed put – it almost looked as if it was fused to his skin. I also wondered why she was staring at it so pointedly, instead of into his eyes.

The man blanched and turned away to leave. I caught the briefest glimpse of his back before Foreau glanced dismissively away. The other half of the silvery band ended right in the middle of his neck – directly above his spine. The skin there looked swollen and painful.

I frowned, uneasy, but our vision had already flicked away and towards a long steel table. I had a brief impression of a large, flat glass box – but Foreau's eyes didn't focus on it. Her vision was darting around the room so quickly I felt ill. Finally, her eyes focussed on a small glass square on a metal trolley. The room moved disconcertingly past us as she walked towards it.

She picked up the square, and I had my first glimpse of her fingers – short and delicate – and covered by thin, dull gloves. Her finger swiped across the surface of the square and it glowed the same green as the Partial's collar. She tapped several times and strange characters moved up to the forefront of the screen. A spinning wheel appeared on the front. Suddenly she sighed, and everything disappeared into red-tinted black. I nearly panicked, then realised that she'd closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath and spoke. Her voice seemed magnified in the darkness.

"The six hundred and forty... fifth research log of Dr. Madeline Foreau, fellow of the Babel Institute. One Thousand and Thirteen Primacy."

She sighed again, but there was a quiver in it this time. "It is past four in the morning. My daughter turned eleven... six hours ago." The red darkness was flooded by painful light as her eyes flicked open to stare at the ceiling. "If all goes well, my creature will take its first unassisted breath in the next few minutes."