My hands move,
before my brain can tell them to.
Here in the artificial glow,
where everything is silver, grey, white
and neat and clean and bright,
another person takes over
my limbs.
No black, no dark –
the recently familiar
is scrubbed clean here,
save for my dirty footprints
tracing a path back to the dust.
And with newly found supplies,
this newly found me
works.
With white threads,
coloured bottles – the smell
of chemicals circles in my nose.
Silver metal clinking,
clean fabric crinkling,
and the blood staining
the sheets, my hands, my clothes.
A gasp.
"I think she's waking up."
And I know what to do
without knowing,
move for the solution
without solving.
I'm a working machine
that doesn't recall being switched on –
and more disturbingly, doesn't recall
being a machine
at all.
And I fix her
under the LED glow. Even though
I'm surrounded by people
I barely know (I barely know
her). Because we're all trapped
by the unknown
in this place –
both outside and around and in –
and there's no escape.
"How are you doing that?" he asks.
And I remove the bullet.
And I clean away the blood.
And I stitch up the wound.
And I wrap it with fabric.
And I tell the truth.
"I don't know."
YOU ARE READING
Titans
Science-Fiction"What was it like to witness the creation of the universe?" "Terrifying." When Atara, Merc, Cal and Lilith wake to darkness, they're each more than a little afraid. With no memory of who they were before, and with the universe bursting violently to...
