Deep

Chapter 39 The ambulance ride.

The loud ringing I heard was not easing, just getting worse. Now the ambulance was spinning, and I could feel bile rise in my throat. I shut my eyes to ease the vertigo and nausea. 

'Sir, are you okay?' Gilroy asked.

'The ambulance is spinning, and I feel like vomiting,' I said with some effort, eyes scrunched shut.

Through the fog of the tinnitus, I heard him speak to the other corpsman. Moments later, he touched my left arm. I opened my eyes to see what he was handing me. That was a big mistake. An immense wave of nausea flowed through me, and I fought hard not to vomit. 

'Sir, if you need to throw up, you can use this,' he said, and he handed me a vomit bag. I nodded, I understood, shut my eyes and went back to fighting the nausea. 

A bit later, Gilroy leaned in and said. 'Sir, we are going to place some neural sensors on you.'

I gave him a frail thumb up as a sign of assent. The cool gloved hands of the other technician cleaned my forehead and scalp. Gilroy then placed a netted, elasticated, knobby cap on my head. The sensor cap draped to my eyebrows and the back of my head, just above my neck.

'Okay Captain, just try to relax. The scan is being relayed to the head neurologist at main medical.' I nodded, I understood and made myself feel worse.

Our head neurologist. Who was that again? My mind went blank as I tried hard to remember who was the chief neurologist.

Damn It, who... Not being able to remember my staff was disconcerting.

Ah. Dr Figueroa. She is head of Neurology. My memory crisis averted, I returned to fighting my nausea. The time dragged on, neither the vertigo nor the nausea eased. With Bob AWOL and the deafening tinnitus, I felt isolated. Alone, adrift on an ocean of pain and rising panic.  

I felt a small, cool hand lock on mine. I did not know if it was real or imagined, but I clung to it like a man facing a black hole's maw.

'Sir?' a distant voice hailed from the din.

'Yes. Mr Gilroy?' I asked unsteadily, not opening my eyes.

'Sir. Dr Figueroa has recommended we isolate your implants.'

'I understand, do it.' Around me, I knew there was activity, but I could hear none of it. I could sense the cool hand holding mine. It was reassuring, steady. 

A little later, Gilroy spoke to me again. 

'I am going to disable your implant.' I gave him a thumbs up with my left hand, indicating I understood and rotated my head right. He cleaned the skin behind my left ear with something that smelled strongly of isopropyl alcohol. He let the area dry for a couple of seconds. I then felt him apply something cold and sticky above the implant. 

In an instant, the roar in my ears became a distant wail.

'Did that help?' 

'Yes, the din in my head is much less, thank you, corporal.'

'What about vertigo and nausea?'

I searched my awareness to figure out how I felt. The vertigo and nausea had eased, but now I had a headache.

'Both have lessened, but I have a throbbing headache.'

'On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it? One being the tiniest headache and ten being the worst?'

I had to concentrate to place my current headache on a scale. Thinking about it made my head throb worse. 

'Four out of ten,' I said, opened my eyes and looked at him. The corporal had the faraway look a person gets when writing to a document in their virtual display.