Nilologue - Part 1

Cold. Goosebumps. Not hungry. Nauseous. Nausea.

blink

Awake, still cold. Heartbeat in my neck, da dum... ba dum... Each beat answers only to itself, no guarantees made for the one to follow. Mouth dry, fingers dry-stuck together. Thumb and forefinger, dry on dry, papers shuffled. Every breath is a whistle through one nostril. Working double time. Almost doesn't seem worth the effort.

blink

Lips crack, gasp, blood on teeth, blood on tongue, sweet and salty like.

Like.

Like nothing I've ever eaten before. I've never.

Blood. Injury. Inhaled so hard I, broke my face open? Doesn't seem right, to go to all this effort, just to breath.

Elbow goes click click click, hand goes smack, hits on something before I can brush away the blood on my mouth. Tap tap, against some kind of roof, or lid. Some kind of goo, on the back of my hand, adheres a little to the lid. The glass lid. The glass roof? A metal roof? Blood, drop sliding past my ear, into the goosebumps behind my head.

Cold.

Glass, or metal. Lid, or roof. It seems important, but not for me. My head is so cold, singular trail of black blood gliding around the horizon of my skull. Itchy. Bump, hand against the glass-metal roof-lid. Plastic? It's not glass, or plastic, certainly not wood or stone, it's cold but not metal. It's none of these. I know. But.

I can't remember my name. But I can remember what a name is. I'm in a box. But I'm not breathing- I'm not hyperventilating. I can breathe. I can bleed. The lid is smooth, forgiving but never yielding. My head is on something. Something is in me. Cold. My head is cold. No hair, goosebumps on my arms. Brush my left arm with my right hand, no hair, brush my right arm, plastic band. Maybe something written on it. If I could-

The world ends in white fire.

"Another screamer," said me. "Close it up. Damn shame..."

White light. The lid, is open. The white light is not searing. Seared. Nothing left. The lid closes again. Blood, thick, in the back of my throat. Cough until I can scream again. Scream until the world ends. I'll be in here, cold, bleeding, breathing, hungry, until- what? Something will happen next. I'm cold, bleeding, nameless. Something happens to people like me.

No. The voice. That wasn't me talking. That was something else. Someone else.

The world ends again.

"Fucking hell, you're not a screamer, are you... are you actually alive in there... hello?" darkness flapped in front of the white. "Hello?"

"Oh, shit, look at these numbers," came another voice, another person. "A hydration line kinked, get it some water, not the mouth! The IV or you'll drown the poor bastard. Crack open the next box, run another line, and I'll see if I can-"

blink

"-there? Stay with me. Thought we'd-"

blink

"-put you back under, run the cycle again. Can't fuck you up any-"

blink

"-from ten with me, ok? Ten, nine (yes the full cycle), seven, six, (if she dies, she dies, push the fucking button Ingrid), five-"

blink

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

I was already falling by the time I woke up. The lid flipped open and cracked against the side, I flopped out and bounce on six protruding bits of metal on the way down, all hitting me right in the soft guts. All around was steam, the hiss of the flame, the BEEP that wood-peckered through my right temple. Someone was standing over me, pulling cords, pouring more steam on the fire from a big red jar, someone else pulled me away by the elbow joint, sliding on the wet floor.

All is quiet except for the BEEPing, and when that was silenced with a boot, all was still.

"So... are you alive? And like, crazy? Not crazy? How many fingers am I holding up." A different voice than the first one. I looked at my hands through wet eyes. My hands are thin and pale, veins and tendons two sizes too big. My eyes must've been the same. Too big. Messed up. Messed with. The plastic strap around my right arm is a melted ruin, I didn't want to think about where my skin met the bubbling white. I folded down my thumb, and forefinger, and ring finger, and pinkie.

"Ha! Yep! You're fine. Or like, you're alive. You're definitely not fine. What do you remember?"

"You're doing it wrong." said the one with the boots.

"What?"

"You are doing it wrong. There's specific phrasing. Listen closely, you just have to say, Remember Your Training!"

I twitched at the sound of it. "I can-" I coughed, and tried again, and coughed some more, something hard moving deep in my throat, refusing to come up. I moved my hands back and forth between the light and my wet, broken eyes. "I can, reload guns? What's a gun?"

A sigh, and a laugh. "Well, a jarhead. Figures. Wish you were a medic. We'd get you to fix yourself, and then the rest of us. Alright, up you get soldier, woah! Easy does it. You good? It can take a little while, but you'll get your feet again. I need to clear this mess up, make sure it doesn't catch fire again. Stay near the walls, there's handrails. You should eat something. Even if it comes back up, you'll feel better. And no alcohol!"

"What's that?"

"Oh, heh, you must be new, it's great! Oh fuck- wow, you definitely look like you could use a drink."

"Is it alcohol? Boots said I shouldn't drink alcohol."

"Boots...? Oh right, boots. I get it. Yeah, forget him. Here, have a sip. Just a sip!"

When the light came back, it was soft, yellow, sliding in just under my gummed eyelids. My mouth had been rinsed out with stale vinegar while I slept, but apart from that, I didn't seem to have come to any worse harm. There was a tube in my left wrist, and a thick white bandage around my right arm, over where the plastic band had... been.

"Oh, you're awake. I thought you'd sleep longer, sorry, I can't turn these lights off, just down a bit. How do you feel?"

"- better. Mouth is gross."

"I'll get you some water, sit up a bit first. I'll get you another pillow. Just small sips. You were throwing up for a while."

"Really? I don't - remember."

"Yeah, it'll do that to you. You're brand new, right? That drink you had, Jack made it himself. Found a case of energy gels, mixed it with some hot water and other stuff, some containers and things. Basically built a shitty still from scratch, but it works better than it has any right to. Ha, works. I think all our livers must be a bit fucked up or something. Here, drink this."

The first mouthful of water just smeared the vomit-taste in my mouth around, but the second got rid of it, a bit. It tasted better than anything, and I nearly choked. By the end of the second cup I could look around a bit. The corners of my eyes were crusty, but felt less full of veins. The little room we were both in was coated in yellow light, like butter poured across all the metal and cloth. My back itched. A rack of bags was stationed in one corner, and my saviour was stationed in the other, holding a third plastic cup. She looked a little taller than I was, with short straight blond hair flowing to just below her ears. She stared at me, brows tented, then looked up at something above my head. "Empty. You should be feeling better though." she pulled the tube out of the back of my hand, wrapped it around the empty plastic sack, and nodded towards my bandaged arm. "You'll need to keep that covered and dry for... for a while. It was pretty bad, but all the plastic came off. It just- you know, took some skin with it." She turned away, fussing with the dangling needle.

"Are you like, the doctor?"

The whole mess of bag and tube and needle went splat on the floor. She quickly bent to pick it up, then turned and smiled at me. Her teeth were exceptionally white. "Nope! Not a doctor! I just wrap bandages, and plug drips. The machines won't let me do anything. So no. But my name is Gen. Who are you?"

Nobody had ever asked me that before. Gen's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh! Sorry, this must all be. And your name-tag... right. Well how about. R...Rebecca?"

"Rebecca?" my back really itched. I reached around to rub it with my left hand, now the drip was out.

"Yeah, Rebecca. Or Becca for short. Or Bec, for even shorter. Like, my name was Imogen apparently, but I like Gen better. You know?"

"... Bec"

Gen kept looking at me, from one of my eyes to the other. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" I felt a little knot of worry get stuck, right next to whatever was itching in the small of my back.

"Sorry!" said Gen, "Sorry. It's just. Sometimes, people don't come out of the pods quite, right. You know? In the head."

"And being able to count to three means, what, I'm not crazy? What if I was blind? Ow." I pulled my hand out from under my shirt, up in front of my face. There was a tiny scrap of blood under my extremely short fingernails. In the soft yellow light, it seemed almost black.

"Hmm, what have you done to yourself? Lean forwards."

Gen pushed gently between my shoulder blades, and pulled my grey shirt halfway up.

"Simon you idiot, you left it in." she said, under her breath, then leaned forwards over my shoulder to smile at me. "Won't be a moment, um, Bec. Can I call you Bec? Just breath out for me, all the way out, nice and slow. And, slight pinch."

There was a wrenching, sucking sensation from my guts, and a slithery pop from behind me. If I hadn't already exhaled all the way, I would've squeaked. "All done! Just a bit of blood, nothing a" slap "bandage can't fix, and you're good to go! I'll just get rid of this." I reached out blindly, and grabbed Gen by the upper arm. She was holding a tangle of pink plastic and metal rings, dangling between her fingers like a dead jellyfish, and just as slimy.

"That was... inside me..." I breathed in sharply between the words, feeling something shifting below my ribcage. Settling.

"Um. Well. It's not any more?" Gen said it like it was a question. "I'll just get rid of it. I had to take my own out, and let me tell you, that was a bad day."

"Yours? hic So you were like me, in a box."

"Same as everyone, honey. It's the only way to get here, around these parts. Damn, I got some on your shirt, my bad. I'll just get you another one."

Gen pulled my shirt the rest off the way off, wiping her sticky hands on it before chucking the whole mess towards a bin in the corner. She missed. All of a sudden, the room was cold. "Don't worry about it, we've got spare uniforms up to here. Enough for hundreds of people, at least." Gen opened a tall cupboard, revealing, as promised, stacks of folded grey shirts and pants up to the ceiling, and probably further. She handed me one of each, "may as well get changed properly, you'll feel a bit better. It's your first day, after all!"

Between the patch on my back and the bandages on my arm, it took me a while to negotiate all the holes in my replacement clothing. I could hear Gen bustling around, wiping up all the fluids before they could dry. Eventually I had some clothing back on, the right way. "Is my back," I started.

"Oh that'll close up in a day or two. I think there's something in the slime. But you know, not a doctor!" replied Gen, talking through her smile. "You should go and get some food. And no alcohol! I'm serious. You're still insanely dehydrated and you haven't eaten in... well, ever. I suppose."

"Hey hey, Boots, look who it is! Your screamer is back!"

smack.

"The, what was that for?"

"Ignore him." said Boots, the young man who had pulled me from the pod. He was holding a square metal bowl in one hand, and a square-ended metal spoon in the other, like a tiny shovel. "You are fine. Nothing to worry about. A couple days and a warm welcome," the last accompanied by a glare over one shoulder, "and you'll be good as new."

"Thanks, um, Boots, was it?"

"My name is Simon, but I can see why you'd think to call me that." Simon tapped one of his shoes against the table with a thunk. Unlike mine, which were a pair of flimsy canvas plimsolls, Simon was wearing hunks of black plastic and metal that reached almost mid-calf. "That's Jack over there," he waved the spoon towards the other boy, who waved back, smacked head forgotten. "Knowing him, I'll be wearing that new nickname till I die. Or kill him. What's yours?"

"Um. Well, Gen called me Rebecca. So I think that must be my name."

I could see Jack over Simon's shoulder, mouthing "screamer". Simon turned, and flung the spoon in one fluid motion. It bounced off Jack's shoulder, who was already skittering away, laughing.

"Really, sorry about him. We're not all that bad. You'll meet the rest of us once they finish waking up and hitting the showers."

By the time Simon had gotten me a bowl of the same thin white fluid he had been eating, Gen emerged. The stuff smelled and tasted fine, but the texture was faintly... pre-digested? Eating the stuff stung my face a bit, weirdly. Gen sashayed between the tables towards the two of us, wearing a heavily modified version of the grey outfit Simon and I both sat in. Her trousers had been cut away at the mid thigh, revealing a pair of stark white, fairly muscular legs, and her shirt had been tied in a knot to reveal her navel.

"Hey doc." called Simon.

"Oh heyyy Simon, I see you've met Rebecca!" she gushed. "Simon, you are just like, so brave, going through the pods the way you do. Isn't he just so brave?" Gen turned to me. Simon scratched his head with a thumbnail.

"Am I though?" he said, soundly genuinely confused. "It's not like there's any real danger. Except when the pod catches on fire, because I miswired something. So I guess it's more dangerous for-"

Gen cut in, "Well, then you're incredibly kind. Rescuing Becca here."

"Thank you for rescuing me, Simon." I said. Gen turned towards me, eyes wide, nodding.

"You're welcome, listen, I hate to leave you again after, well, what happened last time, but I just have this sinking suspicion that Jack is up to no good. I'll leave you two ladies to your breakfast. Gen, can you look after Becca for a bit? Show her around? Thanks." Simon stood, marched over to the counter to dump a bowl and no spoon, and marched away again.

Gen watched him go, eyes following him around the room, smile fixed on her face. "Bye Simon!" she called. Once the sound of Simon's heavy metal boots faded, she scrunched up her mouth and eyes and shook a pair of clawed fists in his general direction. "I could just- fucking strangle- guh." She slumped forward onto the metal table bang "Ow... I hate everything."

I kept slurping the white stuff out of the bowl. Some instinct in me wanted to say, something, anything. "So, Gen, where are we?"

"What? Oh. This is the mess hall. Showers are that way. Bunks are that way."

"But, where are we, exactly."

Gen slowly looked up at me. "Exactly? Exactly, I have no idea. Nobody has any idea. Simon has tried to map out the hallways that go out that other way, but the lights are out and the doors stop working at random. If they locked up, you could die of thirst twenty metres from here." At the mention of thirst, I stood and got one of the little plastic cups. The water came from a tiny faucet, clear and pure. I drank the whole thing, and then another, and came back with a third. Gen nodded. "And then that way is the cryopods. Simon is going along them one by one, powering them up, fixing them if he can, getting them to finish cycling. He's good at that, fixing things. It'd be nice if- no. Anyway, that's everything in this area."

"But there's more."

"There's lots more. Simon reckons this is just one set of many. The mess hall, bunks and showers are in a square shape. Modular, right? Could be they repeat over and over, further away from here. There might be more people, maybe their cryopods all worked properly. Jack reckons this place goes on forever. Or if you just kept walking in a straight line, eventually the hallways reach back to the same spot. Ingrid says that's impossible."

"Maybe the doors lock," I scraped up the last bit of the white stuff from the corners of the square bowl. I felt better, then queasy, then better again. "Maybe the doors lock, and stuff gets moved around, and then the doors unlock again."

"Maybe." Gen didn't seem convinced, but I could see it in my imagination, clearer than day.

"All the structures, shifting around, depending on what is needed. Right?" I said, getting into the idea the more I spoke. "We've got water, and food, and beds and showers and stuff. Maybe if we need other things, the doors will unlock and it'll be right there."

"That'd be nice." said Gen. She picked up my dirty bowl, put it in a little receptacle and tapped the PURGE button above it. "We could get proper medical equipment, and different food, and- whatever. Anyway. That's where we are."

I nodded. Gen didn't know everything. I certainly didn't know anything. But that wasn't going to stop me.