Absolute Reality

Introductions and Absolutions

The light hurt. Physically, it pained her eyeballs and her head. Penetrated Jude's brain as if it was made of spikes. She moaned helplessly, a heavy hand falling - as if of its own accord - over her face. The hand was heavy because there was a tube attached to it. She winced, murmuring, "Oh, God."

"Sister. You're awake." A masculine voice. Kind. Low and even. "Slowly now! Slowly." A firm hand aided her in sitting up. "And um..." Some adjustment of sheets. "Protect your modesty."

Sitting up, with a hand over her chest holding stark white sheet in place, she looked around. "Where am I?"

"You are in the Briarcliff infirmary."

She managed a squinting look up at that masculine voice. A tall, lean, gaunt man - white haired. "Who are you?"

"I am Dr. Arthur Arden." The man sat in the chair near her bed. "I hate that we should meet under these circumstances, Sister Jude."

"You know me..." She touched her pounding forehead.

"Here." The man handed her two large white pills and a glass of water. "Acetaminophen, Sister. For your headache."

Without question - with only gratitude that the pain - the pounding, incessant pain should end - she swallowed the pills. And the water was so good she could not stop drinking it. Gulping it. "Slowly!" The man said again. "Slowly, Sister. You're rehydrating on a saline drip at the moment."

And that would explain the pressure and sting in her arm. She looked down at the IV drip attached to her left wrist. "What's happened?" She asked. The pounding continued.

"There's been an incident." The gaunt man explained. "Are you aware enough to comprehend?"

And she took a moment to gauge his question. Yes, she was aware. Aware she was naked, wrapped in a sheet, with a needle in her arm. Aware of the sounds around her: muffled voices, light moans, the clinking of instruments. She was aware. "Yes."

"I was called here Saturday evening by a member of your security staff. A Frank McCann? He'd found you - and other patients and staff - passed out, or in various states of altered consciousnesses."

"Altered..."

"Sister." The doctor poured her another glass of water. Leaned forward in the little chair.He gestured for her arm. "A little sting here." She winced as he quickly, efficiently slipped her drip from her arm, wrapping a cotton ball over the clotting poke point. "I'm afraid there's been...an attack."

"An attack." She cradled her head in one hand. He took her now half glass of water.

"There was a substance introduced into the environment here. Probably by your former physician. One Dr. Phillips, I believe?"

"Yes." Vaguely, it registered.

"A gas in the ventilation system. I believe it to be methamphetamine. And another substance in the water supply that is most definitely D-lysergic acid."

She shook her fuzzy, hurting head. "Acid...?"

"An experimental hallucinogenic compound." The doctor folded his hands before him. "Sister...what's the last thing you remember?"

"I was...on a date? Reuben had..." She grappled with reality. "No. Wait. There was...a meeting. I was going to the garden...oh, God!" Her eyes frantic. "The Monsignor. Mary Eunice! Are they -"

Arden held up long-fingered hands, calming the panicked nun. "Settle down, Sister. They're both accounted for and fine. Shall I give you a timeline for this weekend's events? Offer you more clarity?"