[S] "Life Inside", part 1: Awakening at Algonquin Main [1/?]
Scott Robert Dawson
Part One: Awakening at Algonquin Main
Darlene opened her eyes.
The room was quiet and dim. She was in bed, under clean sheets printed
with a restful pastel pattern. "Clean sheets," she thought, "It's been
so long... Ever since that bastard Fred trashed the washing
machine..." She stretched, and winced. Her foot hurt.
Darlene looked around. There was little else in the room except a small
desk and a chair. One wall held a door and a curtained window; past the
curtain Darlene could glimpse sunshine and greenery. Next to the bed
was a night-table bearing a full drinking-glass and a salmon-pink call
button. Abstract artwork in tasteful pastel colours adorned the walls.
A folded wheelchair leaned against the wall in the corner.
"I am in hospital?" She scratched her head. It didn't look like any
hospital she'd seen; she remembered hospitals as harsh uncaring places
with glaring linoleum floors, distant relatives, and the smell of death
half-hidden beneath layers of disinfectant. This, however, seemed more
like a luxury hotel room.
Darlene looked more closely at the call button. It fit smoothly into
her hand, and required little pressure to push. A tag, written in a
beautiful cursive script, advised, "push me if you need help."
She set the button down, and picked up the drinking glass. It contained
a sparkling pink beverage, and had a tag written in the same beautiful
script: "drink me when you wake."
"Raspberry ginger ale?" she thought, and had a sudden poignant memory
of her mother bringing her ginger ale when she was ill. She set the
glass down, wept briefly, and thought of her life: the wasted years,
the endless arguments and fights, and especially those damn thickheaded
bad-breathed FitzWilliam brothers who just wouldn't take no for an
answer. Her fists curled as she remembered the fight in the Tea Lake
campground where they'd abandoned her. The effort made her wince in
pain, and she sank back on the bed.
She rested a moment, then moved to sit up at the edge of the bed. She
discovered that her foot was neatly bandaged, and hurt too much to bear
weight. Looking more closely, she thought that one or more of the toes
might be missing, but it was difficult to tell. "Damn. They *did*
manage to hit me with that bullet. But it'll take more than a gunshot
wound to keep Darlene Simmons down."
Darlene realized she was thirsty, and picked up the drinking glass
again. A cautious sip revealed that the pink beverage was delicious.
Almost before she realized it, she'd drunk it all. Another need now
surfaced: where was the washroom? She looked around; there was no
obvious toilet facility, although there was a chamberpot on a stand
within arms reach on the bed. Darlene winced. She really didn't want to
use it, though she'd make the attempt if necessary.
Just then there was a flicker of movement at the window, and the door
opened. A young red-headed man dressed in something like a hospital
uniform entered, closing the door behind him. He looked at her with an
open face and smiled. "Hi. Can I help?"
Darlene relaxed. "Yes. I need to visit the washroom."
The man grinned. "No problem. I'm a nurse--my name's Red. You're a
little weak, so I'll wheel you there." He unfolded the wheelchair and
moved it by the bed. Then, with calm efficiency, he pulled back the
covers of the bed and helped Darlene into the wheelchair. He wheeled
her to the door, pulled something like a television remote-control from
his pocket, and pointed it at the door. The door clicked and swung
open.
Outside was a corridor done in pastel carpeting, granite, and wood.
Sunlight streamed through frosted windows in the wall opposite the
door; below the windows, a long planter filled with flowers and
vegetables flourished. One of the windows was not frosted, and Darlene
caught a glimpse of balconies, lawns, and great skylight windows.
There were only a few other doors in the corridor, all on the same side
as that of the room where Darlene had woken. Red wheeled her to
another. The door clicked open, and they entered.
As the door closed behind Red and Darlene, two rabbits lolloped out of
the greenery in the planter. One, a taffy doe, said, "That Red is
really working out well."
"Yes," replied the other, a grey buck. "He's one of the best
Recruitment Symps we've had in a while. Mentat Greebly is *very*
pleased."
The first rabbit <happyfluff>ed and continued, "That monkey he's
cleaning up may be a good catch too. We know a little of her recent
history: she was running from a couple of male monkeys when we captured
her. Green<fluff> in Ape Psychology tells me that she will probably be
very receptive to kindness and care right mow. Red has *just* the right
touch to ease her into the internal monkey colony."
"I thought she was targeted as another Recruitment Symp?"
"Eventually, yes. But first she has to get well, then she has to learn
of our existence and our ways <ofcoursefluff>. That can be the most
difficult part; a lot of monkeys panic there and then, and are then
good for nothing but spam."
Both rabbits licked their lips.
"If she passes that test, we'll get her into MonkeySpeak tutoring as
soon as we can, so that she can understand our other monkeys. And of
course we have to get her past the reaction when she realizes there is
no going back to her past life. It'll take some time, possibly a year,
before we can be certain..."
The taffy doe pressed a button on a wristband. A boy with a rather
vacant expression appeared at the end of the corridor, pushing a small
cart. The top of the cart bore a plush, padded bed. He stopped the cart
next to the two rabbits, who hopped up onto the cart, settled
themselves on the bed, and helped themselves to salad from a bowl at
the side.
"Al la Otter Creek subvojostacio, knabo," the taffy doe ordered. The
boy flinched slightly and nodded. "Jes..." He pushed the cart to the
end of the corridor and turned. A door opened, and they were gone.
TBC!
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