Elements
1
“Come back here,” I shouted, trying to catch up with the mysterious woman. She had flowing blonde hair and was laughing. She’d never show me her face. I chased her up the hill where she’d stopped and was looking out over the sunset. I crept up behind her, trying to catch her unawares. I grabbed her hand but she disappeared. I was suddenly falling towards a great expanse of solid concrete. A nanosecond before I hit the ground, my body jerked awake and I lay there in a cold sweat.
I was wearing a pair of white trousers, something which I was sure I didn’t own. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed and felt the pain of medical patches being ripped away from my skin. I was clearly in a hospital of sorts, but a hospital like I’d never seen before.
For one, there were no doctors or nurses walking around me. Just a large white space with only the bed I was sat on and an electrocardiogram machine which I was hooked up to. I lowered my feet to the floor and it was spongy, soft.
Am I in a mental asylum?
I peeled away the patches on my chest and let them drop to the floor along with their wires. I turned and saw a large mirror, taking up almost the entire wall. I walked over to it, looking at my reflection.
Is that me?
I had no recollection of what I looked like, but apparently I was tall, well over six feet. My muscles bulged as I lifted my arm up to run my hand through my soft brown hair. I let my hand drop to my piercing blue eyes, touching my face to make sure it was actually mine. I looked powerful.
I walked the perimeter of the room, trying to find a doorway concealed in the soft, spongy wall. After completing the circuit twice, my heart started to race.
I was trapped, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Suddenly, a sound came from my left. I turned to see an opening in the wall and a slender woman with long blonde hair stepped in. She was holding a clipboard and looked no older than twenty-five. She could only be a nurse.
How old am I?
She saw that I was not on the bed and immediately turned on the spot. She stared at me with beautiful green eyes. She was looking at me like I was a child who’d misbehaved. As though I was inferior.
“And why aren’t you in bed, Mr Jackson?” she said, a hint of a smile playing around her mouth. It wasn’t a question.
Who the hell is Mr Jackson?
She placed the clipboard on the bed and busied herself with the electrocardiograph machine. I walked closer to her and took a look at the clipboard. Words were written in perfect cursive handwriting.
Name: Tyler Adam Jackson
D.O.B: 09/24/1987
Hometown: Salt Lake City, Utah, USA
Subjected to: Pancuronium (double dosage), metamorphosilanium A, B and C
Result: 99.8% effective, some side effects including increased pulse rate and uncontrollable outbursts.
That explains a lot.
I tried to make sense of this information, in particular the bit about “side effects”. What had happened to me? Was I on medication? Clearly this “pancuronium” stuff was doing something to me, but I didn’t know whether it was good or bad…
The nurse turned away from the machine, looking at a roll of paper with all sorts of spikes and graphs on it.
“Well your heart rate seems to have slowed right down, that’s a good thing…”
She glanced up from the paper and gave me a once over.
“You look in perfectly good health; I just need to double-check that everything is in working order. If you’d like to follow me, Mr Jackson.”
She picked up the clipboard and exited the room. I followed suit, stepping into a corridor and onto cold, hard, metallic flooring.
She could have at least given me some shoes, I thought to myself, noticing that I was barefooted.
She turned left onto another corridor and pressed her thumb against an electronic scanner. It bleeped and the light turned from red to green as the door opened and revealed a gymnasium. There were treadmills, running machines and dumbbells scattered across the room, which were all hooked up to one computer on the far side of the room. The nurse took a seat at the computer and motioned me to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. She placed the clipboard on the desk as I followed her orders.
“Now, Mr Jackson, I understand you must be feeling confused and disorientated,” she said, her voice making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
You think?!
“Any questions you want to ask will be answered. Any people you want to talk to, you can do so. But first I need to complete a medical assessment to confirm that you’re okay.”
She said all of this without once glancing at me. Was she scared? Forbidden? Attracted?
“Okay,” I replied, my voice smooth and low.
The nurse looked up at me with an unfathomable expression.
“I’m going to be sitting here monitoring your progress, Mr Jacks –”
“Please,” I offered. “Call me –” I looked at the clipboard. “Tyler.”
She laughed, but quickly regained her professional composure, looking terrified.
Was I doing something wrong?
When she spoke, it was with her usual angelic voice.
“I’d like to begin with the treadmill, Tyler. From that exercise I will tell you where to move on.”
So I followed her orders. I did my round on the treadmill. I did my round on the rowing machine. I did the five-hundred repetitions with the dumbbells. I sat back down at the desk and looked at her. She looked impressed. She punched a few keys on the computer keyboard and a metallic autopsy table unfolded from the wall.
Please, Lord, tell me she’s not gonna cut me up…
“This is the last part of your assessment,” she said. “I’m required to give you a full physical body check.” She flushed slightly as she spoke the last few words. I started to walk over to the table and she spoke again.
“If you could remove your clothing and lie on the table, Tyler…”
I was wearing a pair of white trousers, something which I was sure I didn’t own. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed and felt the pain of medical patches being ripped away from my skin. I was clearly in a hospital of sorts, but a hospital like I’d never seen before.
For one, there were no doctors or nurses walking around me. Just a large white space with only the bed I was sat on and an electrocardiogram machine which I was hooked up to. I lowered my feet to the floor and it was spongy, soft.
Am I in a mental asylum?
I peeled away the patches on my chest and let them drop to the floor along with their wires. I turned and saw a large mirror, taking up almost the entire wall. I walked over to it, looking at my reflection.
Is that me?
I had no recollection of what I looked like, but apparently I was tall, well over six feet. My muscles bulged as I lifted my arm up to run my hand through my soft brown hair. I let my hand drop to my piercing blue eyes, touching my face to make sure it was actually mine. I looked powerful.
I walked the perimeter of the room, trying to find a doorway concealed in the soft, spongy wall. After completing the circuit twice, my heart started to race.
I was trapped, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Suddenly, a sound came from my left. I turned to see an opening in the wall and a slender woman with long blonde hair stepped in. She was holding a clipboard and looked no older than twenty-five. She could only be a nurse.
How old am I?
She saw that I was not on the bed and immediately turned on the spot. She stared at me with beautiful green eyes. She was looking at me like I was a child who’d misbehaved. As though I was inferior.
“And why aren’t you in bed, Mr Jackson?” she said, a hint of a smile playing around her mouth. It wasn’t a question.
Who the hell is Mr Jackson?
She placed the clipboard on the bed and busied herself with the electrocardiograph machine. I walked closer to her and took a look at the clipboard. Words were written in perfect cursive handwriting.
Name: Tyler Adam Jackson
D.O.B: 09/24/1987
Hometown: Salt Lake City, Utah, USA
Subjected to: Pancuronium (double dosage), metamorphosilanium A, B and C
Result: 99.8% effective, some side effects including increased pulse rate and uncontrollable outbursts.
That explains a lot.
I tried to make sense of this information, in particular the bit about “side effects”. What had happened to me? Was I on medication? Clearly this “pancuronium” stuff was doing something to me, but I didn’t know whether it was good or bad…
The nurse turned away from the machine, looking at a roll of paper with all sorts of spikes and graphs on it.
“Well your heart rate seems to have slowed right down, that’s a good thing…”
She glanced up from the paper and gave me a once over.
“You look in perfectly good health; I just need to double-check that everything is in working order. If you’d like to follow me, Mr Jackson.”
She picked up the clipboard and exited the room. I followed suit, stepping into a corridor and onto cold, hard, metallic flooring.
She could have at least given me some shoes, I thought to myself, noticing that I was barefooted.
She turned left onto another corridor and pressed her thumb against an electronic scanner. It bleeped and the light turned from red to green as the door opened and revealed a gymnasium. There were treadmills, running machines and dumbbells scattered across the room, which were all hooked up to one computer on the far side of the room. The nurse took a seat at the computer and motioned me to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. She placed the clipboard on the desk as I followed her orders.
“Now, Mr Jackson, I understand you must be feeling confused and disorientated,” she said, her voice making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
You think?!
“Any questions you want to ask will be answered. Any people you want to talk to, you can do so. But first I need to complete a medical assessment to confirm that you’re okay.”
She said all of this without once glancing at me. Was she scared? Forbidden? Attracted?
“Okay,” I replied, my voice smooth and low.
The nurse looked up at me with an unfathomable expression.
“I’m going to be sitting here monitoring your progress, Mr Jacks –”
“Please,” I offered. “Call me –” I looked at the clipboard. “Tyler.”
She laughed, but quickly regained her professional composure, looking terrified.
Was I doing something wrong?
When she spoke, it was with her usual angelic voice.
“I’d like to begin with the treadmill, Tyler. From that exercise I will tell you where to move on.”
So I followed her orders. I did my round on the treadmill. I did my round on the rowing machine. I did the five-hundred repetitions with the dumbbells. I sat back down at the desk and looked at her. She looked impressed. She punched a few keys on the computer keyboard and a metallic autopsy table unfolded from the wall.
Please, Lord, tell me she’s not gonna cut me up…
“This is the last part of your assessment,” she said. “I’m required to give you a full physical body check.” She flushed slightly as she spoke the last few words. I started to walk over to the table and she spoke again.
“If you could remove your clothing and lie on the table, Tyler…”