Machine Man (serial)

CHAPTER THIRTY

As consciousness returned, I became aware of smoke. I felt alarmed, in a small, sectioned-off part of my brain. Smoke is rarely good. In my line of work, it signals stupidity: failure to adequately anticipate logical consquences, or check a tolerance, or convert from imperial. This smoke was curling along the ceiling above me. I wasn’t sure what it signaled. I wasn’t sure where I was. I just knew there was smoke.

Get up, said the part of me that was worried about the smoke. But another part said: Lie here a little longer, and that felt more persuasive. I was doped. I was relaxed. I would never feel this peaceful again, not without chemical assistance. I had to savor it.

Something was slooshing. It sounded soothing. Something else went: Sssssss, like an old man easing into a favorite chair. I felt wet. I felt safe. I was in the womb. The only thing that threatened to spoil this was the smoke, which was becoming quite thick. But I could ignore that. I closed my eyes.

Someone coughed. I opened my eyes, because that was a disconcerting sound to hear in a womb. Especially this cough, which sounded weak and wet. I waited, hoping it would go away, but it didn’t. Cark. Cark. It was kind of perfunctory. Like the owner didn’t expect it to do much good.

I was pondering the implications of this when it began to rain. Or rather, water droplets began to fall on my body. I thought it was probably not rain because I could see the ceiling. I felt my dream-state dissolving, and felt sad. But also better, because I could feel myself coming back. My thoughts began to organize themselves. I needed to sit up and see what the hell was going on.

144.