The Patient in 217

Sally Simpson awoke with an excruciating awareness, as if every cell in her body could sense the universe of sound, sight – she could even taste the air.

“I didn’t think it would hurt so much,” she told the nurse who had just entered to check her vitals.

“Normal physiopsychic response. Your brain will adjust as the implant settles.

Hmmm…. that’s odd….”

Sally’s eyes followed the nurse across the room and out the door. She tried to breathe deeply, but the combination of antiseptic, human fluids, and somebody’s leftover lunch were all too much. She tried to focus on Corbin’s photo on the wall across across from her bed, but the colors danced and shimmered. A complex multiverse of color. She closed her eyes and gasped at the sight of her inner eyelid. She had always seen shapes and the occasional blood vessel, but now she saw everything – down to the subatomic layer of existence.

And that was not all. Sally’s intensified hearing made whispers sound like normal speech.

“She’s been hacked.”

“Who? Which one?”

“217. Just woke up.”

“Shit. What does this mean? What’s the protocol?”

“Keep the patient calm and find out where the feed is going. Call Omni.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Omni…. Who’s Omni? Sally tried to recall the circumstances of her being in this hospital? Research facility? Nothing came to mind.

With a cold jolt of adrenaline that froze her toes, Sally realized her name was her only memory.

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Artwork by  Igor Morski, a Polish artist.