Epiphany
Proverbs 17:9
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Doctor Who: The Clockwise Prolixity
Consciousness returns by inches.
At first, you are aware of pressure beneath you. Then the sensation of coolness followed by hardness. As the seconds tick by, the pressure resolves and becomes something firm yet padded. The cool metal comes from thin support bars along the bed. Your own waking body's sensations call for more attention, though. You're breathing but it's an effort. It takes conscious thought to breathe. And to feel. Your mind feels wrapped in a blanket, muffled from the world.
Minutes pass and you begin to feel more like yourself, to even be aware of being yourself. Your nervous system has at last sorted out how everything fits together, allowing your fingers to grip those support bars or legs to press against the footboard of the medical bed. Vision and hearing are the last to return, though at first there's not much to hear beyond realizing that strange rhythmic noise is you breathing.
A dull metallic ceiling greets your eyes when they first open. Bright light projects from panels towards the far wall, yet the dark, well-used walls seem to absorb it, leaving you shrouded in light and darkness. There's an astringent smell in the air, of too much clean and nothing natural whatsoever. Gradually other details become apparent. This is a room. It contains beds bolted into the floor for stability.
And the other beds are occupied.
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