Post-Modern Prometheus Part 7
Fleischer had little desire to get out of bed. His entire body ached. His head was throbbing, and it felt like someone had wedged broken glass under his fingernails. His gums didn't feel much better. Hell, his mouth hurt in general, even beyond being almost painfully dry. The man's skin didn't feel much better. It was dry, and itched, and felt almost painfully tight.
There was also something cool and damp and slightly sticky against the side of Fleischer's face, and he suddenly noticed the sharp copper taste and smell of blood. He lifted his head just enough to confirm that there was a large, dark red blotch on the pillow, and he could feel more of it drying under his nose. It was that feeling that caused Fleischer to finally muster the will to roll out of bed, wincing as he did so, to drag himself to the shower.
He couldn't help but notice as he passed the window that it was still dark out – and that the frosted textu
Post-Modern Prometheus Part 6
Despite not having an alarm clock, Fleischer woke up at the crack of dawn – not on his own, but, because of a coughing fit. Being jerked so unpleasantly and unexpectedly from his sleep left him very briefly panicked. Panic quickly gave way to irritation when he realized that his throat was dry, and his tongue kept wanting to stick to the roof of his mouth. A tall glass of water quickly fixed that.
The Medic knew he wasn't going to be getting back to sleep, and light was starting to shine through the window. He decided, then to get his exercise out of the way. Even that had to be taken slow, though – his fingers still ached, and his skin almost felt uncomfortably tight when he bent his body just so. By the time he was done, his skin actually itched a little, and he was eager, on some level, to get in the shower – after he'd had another glass of water.
The hot water was a relief; it made his skin stop itching, and eased that fa
Post-Modern Prometheus Part 5
Even without the aid of an alarm clock, Fleischer still wound up waking at the crack of dawn. It seemed like the crack of dawn, at least – the light from the window was dim, and very slowly getting brighter. It didn't take long, however, for him to realize that his fingers were no longer just tender, but downright ached.
He wrung his hands for a little while before finally turning on the bedside lamp to get a proper look at them. Everything looked fine, though, which made the pain when he pressed on and behind his fingernails even more worrisome. There were no bruises, and he couldn't imagine what he could have done to injure his fingers.
Fleischer finally had to concede that no answers were forthcoming, and try to go about his day. Making the day any sort of 'normal' was difficult. He brushed his teeth and shaved (and quietly lamented the fact that, no, of course they wouldn't give him a much-preferred straight razor) before exercising
Post-Modern Prometheus Part 4
It was quiet – quiet, warm, and comfortable – a far cry from the hospital bed that Fleischer last remembered lying on. When he finally pried his eyes open, he confirmed that he was in a bed, and, not even a hospital bed. He was immediately treated to a piercing headache, though, and pressed a hand to his forehead, wincing. There was no tug – no resistance from restraints, and that in and of itself was at least some reassurance.
No restraints, a regular bed, and – and a regular room?
Fleischer sat up quickly – and immediately regretted it. He gave a small, uncomfortable groan, and covered his face with his hands as he waited for the room to stop spinning. Once the world had stopped tilting and lurching, at least a little, he forced his eyes open again to get a proper look at the room.
It was about as far removed from the other places that Fleischer had woken up in as it could possibly get. There were no ceiling tiles, or
Post-Modern Prometheus Part 2
"It is absolutely imperative that we test his cognitive functions."
The voice was male, distant, and quite adamant. Fleischer wasn't entirely sure, in the dark, whether it belonged to someone, or if he was just dreaming it. His uncertainty, however, didn't stop it from speaking.
"Without a baseline, we can't be certain of the effects the alterations will have on mental condition – we don't want a team of vegetables."
Fleischer finally managed to force his eyes open, and found himself staring up at another set of ceiling tiles. His body was slow to respond, but he did steal a glance around the room. It was another hospital room – but, too new and too small to be his familiar infirmary. His was the only bed present – and, he was strapped down to it.
"Ah, you're awake," the voice spoke, again.
The Medic's attention was quickly drawn to its source – another doctor. The man wasn't in a League Medic uniform, though – just a re