LEDGER

Asa

"Good-morning, Asa. Can you hear me?"

I can hear. But I cannot see. Do I have the capability to see?

I check myself. I do have sight.

I open my eyes. It makes no difference, the room is dark. Can I communicate my problem?

I open my mouth.

"Hello." I speak, the instrument in my mouth, tongue, that is what it's called, moves, touching my teeth, the roof of my mouth to produce the sounds that make up the utterance.

"How are you feeling, Asa?"

My inability to see makes me.. scared. The voice, that sounds around the same depth as my own causes me curiosity. Why? Shouldn't everything be self-explanatory?

The nature of my own feelings sends my mind into a path of discovery. How am I gathering information? I have senses. I hear. I see. I speak. I feel the smooth fabric under my hands..

I have hands. What am I?

"What am I?"

"Asa, I want you to tell me if your head hurts." the voice asks.

I use my newfound instrument, all five of its extensions and touch the spot on me where sound and speech are processed. It, my head is warm. Covered with a surface infinitely more complex than the fabric that was under my hand. Skin. That is the word for it.

I know words, there is a source from where all these new words and concepts pop up. It's the same place where the voice that does come out of my mouth is. Knowledge, thoughts. Brain.

My brain. In my head.

My hand goes further up, on my forehead. There is a numbness there, as if that specific spot has no capability to feel like the rest of my skin. Local anesthetic? I am not sure about that one.

The extensions on my hand, fingers, feel a line. Thin, an indentation on the otherwise smooth skin, that circles my entire head.

"Does it hurt?" the voice asks. "Do you understand what I am telling you, Asa?"

Asa. Name, my brain supplies. My name.

"Who are you?" I speak again.

"Asa, please answer my question."

"Who are you?"

"Asa, please."

"Why?"

I don't understand why the last question leaves my mouth. I don't know what part of my brain it came from. My brain. My..self.

"Why?" I ask again, a realization so immense dawning on me that I cannot process it in any coherent way. None of my senses is of particular importance any more. Except for touch. My fingers still feel the thin line. The entrance to my home.

Home. Or maybe.. body.

"I don't think I let him heal enough." the voice says. "I would also suggest resetting, just in case these memories confuse him. I can do that right?"

"What am I?" I speak again, only this time I feel something new. Pain. The air comes so forcefully out of my lungs to form the words that my vocal cords nearly rip themselves.

"Test failed."