Awake

Chapter Thirteen - Rise and Shine

Meep....meep....meep....

It seemed to be the only sound in an infinity of silence. It was harsh, metallic, yet somehow comforting. It was rhythmic as a heartbeat, repetitive, never changing.

Meep...meep...meep...

Perhaps the sound was a heartbeat, the heartbeat of some creature who wasn't human, who didn't have a beating muscle but something that sounded rather more like a clock. No, it wasn't a clock. It was colder than that. But what was it?

Meep...meep...meep...

If that sound was here, why was there no other? Perhaps, the answer came swiftly, because there was no other sound to hear. Why had sound returned and not any other sense? That was the real question.

Meep...meep...meep...

It was obvious that there were no others. Not being able to see is different in some indefinable way from not having anything to look at and this was definitely based on a lack of ability. There was no sensation at all. There was no balance, no orientation. There was nothing but that one sound.

Meep...meep...meep...

No, wait... There was smell. It was at the very edge of the sense but growing stronger with familiarity. Something chemical but clean, invasive and abrasive but not precisely unpleasant. It was recognisable, in a way that the sound was also recognisable, like something you had never noticed but which had always been there.

Meep...meep...meep...

Suddenly, it was all there are once. Taste and smell and sight and sound and touch and a million other senses that had never been declared as senses, rushing to fill the spaces, tumbling, bewildering, overwhelming, wiping everything out and drowning it and crushing in a relentless, unbearable tide of Knowledge.

  Jonathan did the only thing that it made sense to do. He screamed until it hurt.

Consciousness seemed the most terrible thing in the world. Jonathan Sand could not remember how he had ever stood it before. Perhaps he had never been so aware of it before. He was being bombarded, buried, baffled, by an avalanche of information, more than he could possibly know what to do with.

  He was aware, dimly, that this was the second time he had realised this. The first time, though it seemed vague and hazy and half-formed, had been filled by his own screaming and was soon over. Now, though, he was able to take it rationally, all be it chaotically.

   He was lying down. This was an important point of reference not to be overlooked. It seemed, upon closer inspection, that he was tied down with fabric straps holding his wrists and feet to the bed. This was not a good sign.

  There were needles in his veins. This also did not look good. He couldn't exactly feel them but he was aware of them, in his arms and wrists and the backs of his hands. Perhaps there were more that he could not see.