Peter Prellwitz - Shards Book One

I rose up, slowly, on my left side, careful not to disturb my left hand. It was not clamped down, nor were there any tubes coming out. Rather, it seemed bathed in an intense ultraviolet light that appeared to irradiate the veins all up and down my arm. Maybe they fed me by osmosis. I'd look into that later.

Speaking with as clinical a voice as I could muster, I said,? Disconnect patient nutrients and restoration fluids, Doctor Philip Barrett authorization 4699NRF."

The machine sighed, and the light flicked off. A cool wave of air washed over my arm. I lay back and carefully lifted it. I flexed my hand, half expecting my fingers to fall off, but they stayed on and flexed. I noted with satisfaction that it too was exactly as I remembered it. Silly, I know, since arms tended to come as a matched set. But my life at that moment was composed of little victories, and I'd take them all.

Seeing that I was in my own body, and it was in one piece, I sat up. Then I lay back down. That automatic bedpan I'd, um, discovered last night apparently worked in only one position. Again, I won't go into detail, but I disconnected myself from it as well. No alarms sounded that I could hear, so I had to assume there weren't any. It was time to go. I sat up again and carefully eased my legs off the bed. My feet didn't quite touch the floor, which put the bed pretty high up. I felt a little dizzy, so I took a moment to get my bearings.

I didn't know how much the outside world had changed, but hospital rooms, even illegal ones, had been stuck in a time warp. One wall, the one on my left when lying down and now behind me, was composed of embedded instrumentation, monitors and several cubbyholes. To my right was a small table with a washbasin on it. The source of my only happy moment so far this century. To my left was a faucet that must have been brought forward into time with me, it looked so normal. The wall facing me was completely bare. Completely. There was no door on the wall. Indeed, there was no door anywhere in the room. This was not good.

I'd settled down some, so I took my next step, which was taking my first step. Holding onto the rail, I eased myself carefully off the bed and tentatively put a bare foot down on the predictably cold floor. I felt my equally bare backside rub against another predictably cold bed frame, and realized that hospital gowns hadn't changed much, either. The ridiculous thought passed through my mind that this was all a farce, that it was still my time and Al and Terry and the gang at R amp;D had put me in some bizarre experiment, or gag. Or both. They were a creative bunch. Then I realized I wasn't giving my generation enough credit. Medicine had worked out the best pjs for patients long ago, and you stick with what works. Well, at least I'd light up conversations for weeks to come if they caught me.

I put some weight down on my foot, then slowly lowered my other foot. Since the bed was so high-the underneath must be rigged with equipment to justify the excess height-that meant I had to slide off.

Holding onto the bar, I shifted my balance to my legs-yes, they were my legs-and committed.

I wouldn't win any rewards for grace. But I was on my feet. I tried to take an experimental step. It felt weird. Very weird. I pulled up my gown to check my upper legs and hips, which was where the imbalance seemed to come from. Maybe I'd picked up some injury while someone else. But no, again everything was almost as it should have been. Almost. There was something just a little off. I nearly had it, but lost it. I shrugged it off. If I couldn't think of it, it must be minor. It was certainly minor compared to my present position, and it didn't stop me from walking.

I wobbled up to the head of the bed, an incredible journey of two feet, then made the exodus to the foot of the bed. My balance was lousy but workable. I tried to make the trip back, sans rail, but instead made the trip down to the floor. It should have hurt, but didn't. The floor softened itself just as I arrived. So much for my R amp;D gag theory. We'd never even conceived of an idea like this at NATech, and we were the best. I crawled to the head of the bed and worked myself up to my feet. I used the next twenty minutes traveling up and down that short distance. It felt like I'd run a marathon.

But it gave me time to think about the door. If the floor could respond to certain stimuli, couldn't a wall?

The thought boggled. Here I was, wobbly as a new born colt, ready to get caught, and my butt showing to boot, and I was impressed. Maybe the doc was right. Relearning was going to be fun. John, my man

, I thought, there is an upside to all this. Just live through this and enjoy finding out.

I staggered to where my best estimation of the door would be. It was a pretty good estimation. Just as I arrived, an opening appeared in front of me. Rather than being rectangular, it took on the rough outline of my form. It looked a little strange, but that was no doubt due to the free flowing hospital gown. Sure enough, when I shifted, it did. It seemed too low to go through, but was actually just right. I didn't even muss my hair. Seeing as there was no doorjamb to look around, I just passed through. The thought crossed my mind to stop short, leaving just my eyes poking through, but the mental picture gave me the willies. Better this way, I hoped, than getting stuck in a doorway, neither in nor out.

The door opened to a dimly lit corridor that was at least thirty feet wide and twelve high. I couldn't make out a great deal at first, but this most certainly was not a hospital. The air seemed dry and warm, almost like outdoor air. There were no lights in the corridor, but I did see several lights coming from rooms on both sides. They seemed staggered, as though the corridor changed its width at various points. Then I had it; this wasn't a corridor. It was a tunnel.

I had no idea which way to go, so I picked my left. There seemed to be a couple of darker spots along the length that I could duck into if need be. I hoped not. I wanted as much traveling time as I could get.

Maybe even heist some transportation and figure out how to work it. Yeah, and I wanted a pony, too.

I padded down on bare feet-at least the floor was warmish-to the first source of light on the left, the same side as my room. As I approached, I noticed it had a standard type doorway, and the light was coming from the open frame. I peeked in carefully.

This was, I decided, the good doctor's room. It had an air about it that seemed both lived in and professional. He may have been a criminal, but he was a good doctor and had good taste. He had minor lighting around the small room that showed an infirmary of sorts, a desk with what appeared to be an embedded keypad that had a crack running horizontally the entire length of it, and several black, pictureless frames. Taking a chance, I stepped in just enough to see around a short corner into the back of the room. The hidden corner revealed a small doorway that led, judging from the sound emanating from it, either to his occupied bedroom or to a fully operational sawmill. The good doctor may not be able to revive the dead, but I'm sure he could wake them. I turned to leave.

Someone was staring me right in the eye, not three feet from me. I almost screamed, but fortunately my heart was caught in my throat and no sound escaped. A mirror. I swallowed hard enough to put my heart back where it belonged and left. In my reflection I still saw that ever so slight something that was wrong.

Again, I couldn't place what it was, and again I decided there were more important things.

I continued down the tunnel-actually, it was indeed a rough hewn corridor-to the next light source, on the right. Again, a doorway, and again another room of office and bedroom. Whoever had these quarters was most definitely not in the medical profession. He or she also had a desk, but had carelessly scattered weapons around it. Maybe he made the holes the doctor patched up. I wasn't entirely surprised. I had already figured there had to be some sort a paramilitary presence to back up illegal activity of this scope.