Waking up in haste

I woke up feeling like my brain had been through a blender. I had a splitting headache, blurry vision and there was a soft ringing in my ears. Actually, my whole body felt strange—cold—and lighter and wirier than normal. My right arm was numb and twitchy. I pulled myself upright in the strange, metallic surgical bed I found myself in, and took stock of my surroundings.

The small room was illuminated only by the screen glow of a multitude of diagnostic and medical equipment. Slight whirs and occasional beeps cut the silence. An IV drip ran to my left elbow bend, and there were sensors and wires surrounding my semi-naked body. A single thin cable ran from a panel above me, and connected to a datajack on my temple. A bundle of clothes was laid at the foot of the bed.

I turned to look around me. There was another bed behind me, with a man wrapped in a similar assortment of instruments, though clothed in a tailored business suit. I blinked in an attempt to sharpen my vision. The man was bleeding from his eyes and ears. Frozen in a painful grimace. Not breathing.

Cold sweat started to run down my back. Adrenaline spiked my pulse, and while this didn’t help my headache, it did clear my head.

With a start, my vision focused on my arms. The left one was scratched and bloody. The right one was shiny chrome. I wasn’t sure which one startled me more, but being made of metal explained the numbness. I took a closer look at the left one. My forearm was carved with upside-down words.

It read: Memory will return. Get out!

It hadn’t occurred to me before this, but I had no recollection of getting here—or of anything, really. Slippery memories evaded my grasp, as I feverishly tried to figure out who and where I was. I held my head in my slightly trembling hands. I worked with corporate contractors—something about protecting company assets. Though the fragmented memories felt wrong somehow. They were tinged with panic and regret, and I didn’t think it was all because of my current situation.

“Doesn’t matter. I need to withdraw now and evaluate later”, I said aloud to no-one in particular.

I promptly ripped the various sensors off my body, taking care to pull out the IV from my arm without hurting myself. As I pulled the cable jack out from my right temple, a blinking text appeared in the top-left corner of my vision. It read: “Cold boot. Running hive systems check…”

“What the hell!?”

It took me a couple of seconds to decide that whatever this was, this too, could wait. I grabbed the bundle of clothes I noticed earlier, dressing myself in tactical trousers and a form-fitting t-shirt. There was a gun in the clothes pile, which I routinely checked for ammo. A dark long-coat hung beside the door. It was a bit large for me, but I put it on anyway—not knowing the temperature outside. Its weight was comforting. The thing was armored.

Scanning the room for further valuables yielded little of value—none of the medical instruments were easily portable, and I didn’t wish to rummage through the dead man’s pockets. I couldn’t even look at him—that grimace would haunt me forever, even without taking a closer look. There was an access card on the floor, along with a bloodied knife. I pocketed the card and wiped the knife on the already ruined bedsheets. I was as ready as I was going to get.

I slipped through the door, in search of an exit. I had no idea where I was heading, but my gut told me to trust the dead man’s message carved on my skin. My right hand’s fingers wrapped around the pistol grip with a slight metallic clink, as I rounded the corner.

Hive systems check at 5%…