《That's a Tank!》


 Thats a Tank! PT1

    Hot rain of the Texas springtime whipped all across the road as a solitary figure marched on their way towards home. This person, a broad man with wide shoulders and a rounded figure that jostled slightly as he walked, carried under his arm a plastic bag that was slick with the rain and held a box of a miniature diorama of a second world war battle scene. His hoodie he had worn out that day was drenched, his jeans hugging tight to his legs, and the shoes on his feet so full of water that they made a repulsive squelching sound as he walked. Under his breath he grumbled angrily at the water that sloshed at his ankles.


    ¡°Such an idiot¡­ just had to pick today of all days. It¡¯s only a block away, I can just use the bridge! Right, and it just had to be today when it starts raining. Thirty percent chance my ass!¡± He shouted his words into the wind, though only the cars rolling by on the road would be witnesses to his cries.


    His mind was hooked on the events that had led up to this moment. He was overweight so he had wanted to do some walking, and to motivate him a convention was being held just across the river. In his mind, he would have saved gas and time parking by walking on top of getting his legs moving, so he had foregone his wheeled steed in order to cross the four-lane bridge that separated his apartment from the convention center. The convention was interesting and had many relics of World War two and he was even able to obtain merchandise not frequently sold at local hobby stores, though the sudden onset of a torrential downpour had soured his mood. Thus, here he was: trudging along in the dirty brown rainwater on his way back home.


    Ten minutes of cursing and gritting his teeth after leaving the convention, this man had finally made it to the bridge that would get him home. His apartment was in view at that very moment with the lights on and his cat undoubtedly peering from the couch to the window. He managed to let out a chuckle as he imagined the feline¡¯s reaction once he got home drenched in rainwater. Not wanting to waste another minute in the awful swamp that was the hot rain, he began to jog with high steps through the rushing water pouring down the hill leading to the bridge.


    Unbeknownst to this man, he would never arrive at his apartment. A driver behind the wheel of a rather large and overly modified pickup truck sped through the heavy rain with reckless abandon, falsely believing that their years of masterfully terrible driving would act as a safeguard against mother nature¡¯s designs. All it took was their high speed and a sufficient depth of water to send their vehicle into an uncontrollable spin as they neared the bridge. The man on the sidewalk didn¡¯t get the chance to turn around before the vehicle struck him from behind, both making a terrible crunch and a gut-wrenching scream as his limp and broken body went over the guard rail and into the swollen river below.


    Thus, the life of this man came to a tragic end, but his story was not over quite yet.


    __________


    With an exhausted groan, the man who had been so violently thrown into the depths of the water stirred from a troubling dream, one of hospitals and doctors using weird instruments of science upon him for hours on end. He rubbed at his head, which pounded with an intensity matching that of a drumline at a parade. Everything in his vision was a blur once he opened his eyes: foggy white lights, steel colored walls and a baby blue floor, and white boxes with blinking lights and colorful faces that he guessed were monitors of some kind. Slowly he began to realize that the nightmare of being under the scalpel wasn¡¯t just a dream, nor was the memory of his near-death experience with whatever vehicle had hit him.


    With all of his meager might he tried to push himself up and move for the edge of the bed, but his body felt strange, alien even, as though his muscles had forgotten how to move and his bones had become as heavy as lead. Defeated, he flopped back into the soft fabric of the bed and let out a frustrated growl, clenching his fist and panting hard from the exertion. His mind was racing despite the foggy feeling and the dizziness that kept his vision from focusing on anything. All he could do was lay there and pray that a doctor or nurse would come along and tell him that he had survived his accident and that this was all just some miraculous recovery.


    His prayers were somewhat answered when he heard a pneumatic hiss of a door opening, and with a start his eyes snapped open. There was someone here now, someone tall and slender, wearing a red top and dark bottom, with what looked vaguely like a lab coat. ¡°Doc¡­¡± He croaked at them, realizing as he spoke that his throat was dry and his lips numb.


    ¡°Andrew.¡± The figure said in a distinctly feminine voice. The accent was bizarre, a sort of tongue that didn¡¯t sound particularly used to saying his name and put too much accentuation on the consonants. He waved this off as perhaps being a side effect of whatever was keeping him so numbed and weary.


    He lifted his right hand as best as he could a few inches above the bed, his hand trembling feverishly as he tried to reach out for help. The woman approached, wrapping a warm hand around his own. He sighed, a wave of relief washing over him as he felt her touch. ¡°Doc¡­tor¡­h-help¡­¡± He weakly uttered, swallowing hard as he tried to clear the lump in his throat.


    Whoever this person was, doctor or not, seemed to understand that he was struggling greatly and assisted him by reaching their other hand for the frame of the bed. There was a whir of machinery as Andrew was pushed upwards from behind, his bed morphing into a recliner of sorts for him to sit upright. He felt the weight of his own body shift, his breathing becoming easier as the figure reached for something else. Something cool and hard touched his lips: the edge of a glass cup filled with water. ¡°Drink.¡± the voice commanded gently, not that he needed the encouragement. He greedily drank all that was offered, his free hand moving up to try and tip the glass farther only to drop back to the bed.


    Once the glass was empty he began to cough from the feeling of his body rehydrating from the water, his chest tingling as if he had been completely desiccated from within. Now with his tongue wetted and his lips regaining some of their former flexibility, he tried to speak once more in a less hoarse voice. ¡°Where¡­ where am I? What happened?¡± He opened his eyes to the blinding lights above, squinting as he tried to find the face of his caretaker.


    Then he finally spotted her, and he let out a gasp. This person, no, this woman was the most elegant woman he had ever seen. Perfectly straight hair tied into a tight bun, eyes like piercing emeralds, skin as fair as freshly fallen snow, and a heart shaped face with a pair of rounded glasses perched atop her sharp nose. Her expression was calm, not quite impassive but also not a smile, almost as if she were respectfully acknowledging him like some old time noble. She blinked slowly and tilted her head, the corners of her mouth up turning into a cat-like smile. ¡°You are at the Greater Metroplan Hospital, in the care of the best doctors available. There was an accident, and you had to be brought here for medical reconstruction.¡±


    Andrew blinked at her explanation, the words spoken not aligning with the answers he had expected. He wondered to himself: what was this Greater Metroplan? Who was this person? And what the Hell does medical reconstruction entail? Pushing himself up into his chair a bit more comfortably, he locked eyes with this woman for a moment before scanning her attire. A red button up shirt and a black pencil skirt with a lab coat, as he had assumed, but there were details missing, such as any discernible fabric or stitching, no folds, bends, or creases either. Something about how perfect she was made his spine tingle, a reaction that made him feel like this wasn¡¯t right.


    With a steady tone he decided to dig further into this strange woman¡¯s identity. ¡°Who are you? Are you a doctor of some kind?¡± He double checked her outfit, her face, and even squinted around at the various screens around him. She didn¡¯t have a nametag or any pockets on her clothes, and the devices around him were displaying information that he knew was wrong. The ECG sitting to his left was locked at displaying an average heart rate, despite that he felt his own pulse slamming into his chest as his anxiety rose, not to mention that there weren¡¯t any electrodes on him as far as he could tell. His suspicions were only getting worse as the woman hesitated to answer.


    After a moment of delay, the woman gave him another uncanny smile and tilted her head the opposite direction. ¡°I am Miss Trina, I am a medical assistant akin to a nurse. The doctor is busy at the moment, so I am taking care of patients in his stead. Please be at ease, as I am a fully capable physician able to meet any patient needs.¡± The strange accent of the woman made her use of most words a challenge for Andrew to understand, but he was able to follow along enough to understand.


    Slowly, Andrew tried to move his legs under the covers and get a feel for them, daring to glance down in satisfaction at seeing he could flex his ankles and toes. It was with this glance down that he noticed that he could not only see his legs all the way up to his hips, but he could now see clearly down to his navel and below. He was so thin that he barely resembled his old self at all. He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes snapping back to this Trina woman with an urgent question in his mind. ¡°How long have I been here? What¡­ what happened to me? I need to call my sister, I need to-¡± He was interrupted in his panic by his own lungs seizing, forcing him into a coughing fit that made him double over involuntarily.


    Miss Trina, in the fashion of an actual healthcare professional, managed to ease Andrew back into his seat after helping him come down from his coughing fit, a new glass of water in hand as he tried to catch his breath. ¡°Please take slow sips, Andrew. You need to recover your strength.¡±


    Begrudgingly he complied, keeping a wary eye on this oddly serene woman the entire time. Once the glass was empty he took a break to slow his breathing and heart rate as he had done any time he lost his temper. Carefully he approached the topic he had wanted to visit earlier, gripping his bedsheet tightly and pulling it up slightly. ¡°Thank you for the drink, but I need to know, Miss. How long have I been here, and does my family know where I am? Please, if I¡¯ve been here long enough that I¡¯m this thin, then¡­ just please tell me.¡±


    This time, rather than tilting her head and smiling, the strange woman gave him a blank stare that almost seemed shocked. She blinked again, then looking towards the far wall for a moment she paused before returning her attention to him and offering a saddened look. ¡°I am sorry, but I cannot answer all of your questions. Doctor Owens has stated that he wants to be the one to explain matters directly. If you want, I can call for him right this moment.¡± The saddened look she wore changed to an expression of curiosity, her eyes never once leaving his, or for that fact even blinking.


    Remaining calm was all Andrew could manage, though through his tensed form he managed to give her a reply. ¡°Yes, please call him right away.¡± He watched the strange woman¡¯s face morph into a smile a moment before she seemed to space out, her eyes becoming unfocused for only a second before narrowing and tracking him once more. Without any sort of answer or confirmation, he began to try and slide away from her towards the edge of the bed, probing her with a question to hopefully distract her. ¡°Are you gonna get the doctor?¡±


    Her smile returned, along with her slight head tilt. ¡°Yes, the doctor has been called. He will be here shortly.¡± She reached towards the night stand beside the table again, raising the glass once again that had just been empty but was now full. ¡°Would you care for another drink? It is important that you rehydrate yourself.¡±


    Andrew¡¯s hairs along his body stood on end, his patience for the strange woman finally reaching its limit. ¡°No, I don¡¯t want any more water. Just¡­ get that glass away from me, okay?¡± His breathing was becoming faster, his pulse quickening as he watched the woman tilt her head once again.


    Instead of a reply she simply stood with the glass, turned towards the far wall, and walked over to set the glass by the wall before turning back to him. ¡°Is this distance sufficient?¡± She chimed, putting her hands together across her abdomen.


    Not quite understanding what she meant, Andrew shakily nodded his head in agreement. ¡°Sure, I guess.¡± Oddly enough, the woman remained there, staring at him with that same eerie smile. This behavior made him even more nervous, making him feel like he was talking to some kind of android or something. He dismissed this thought, as it wasn¡¯t his concern at the moment.


    With a fair level of difficulty he pushed himself towards the edge of the bed, pulling the sheets over his legs to reveal their thin form that barely responded to his will. He swung his legs over the edge and sat upright with his feet dangling in the air, panting from the level of exertion it took just to move such a short distance. He had to have been there for years to become this atrophied, he thought to himself.


    Now that he was at the precipice of putting his own weight upon his own feet, he stole a glance back to the nurse who was still in the corner. She stared at him with unwavering patience without breathing or even blinking. ¡°Do you require assistance?¡± She chimed, smiling wider than before.


    ¡°No thanks.¡± He grumbled back, still unnerved by her presence. He looked down to the floor and took a shallow breath, sliding further and further until he could feel his weight pulling him towards the ground. He braced himself, hands on the sheets gripping them tightly as his skin made contact with the floor. There was a dull sensation of cold tile on the soles of his feet, along with a wobbling from his knees as they fought to keep him upright. His heart was racing as he struggled to remain upright, grunting as he felt his knees buckling just from the weight of his own body. He couldn¡¯t do this, he was going to fall!


    He closed his eyes right as he felt his legs give out, the world falling forwards as he took a nose dive towards the tile. He knew it was going to hurt, and all he could do was let go of the bed and put his arms in front of his face in preparation for the fall. A fall that, strangely, never came. He opened his eyes to find that he was being held up by a firm arm wrapped around his chest. It was Miss Trina, who had somehow crossed the room so swiftly that Andrew hadn¡¯t even heard or felt her move. She smiled down at him as she effortlessly pushed him back up until he was sitting comfortably at the edge of the bed.


    With her same graceful movements she moved in front of him, lowering herself down to meet him at his eyes level. ¡°Are you unharmed? You nearly fell from your bed, and as such needed to be rescued. Please do not perform such risky actions that would conclude with your own injury.¡± Her voice was warmer now, showing a level of compassion that was absent moments ago.


    Blushing from embarrassment and frustration, he gave her a reply through gritted teeth. ¡°I¡¯m fine, I just want to stand up and find this damn doctor myself.¡± He felt the heat of his anger running through him as it usually did when he became upset, thus forcing him to close his eyes and take a few long breaths.


    In response to his attitude, the lady stood back up and produced a chair from what seemed like the wall to sit in front of him. She placed her hands on her lap, and looking up at him she gave a smile that seemed almost warm. ¡°The doctor is on his way here at this moment. Please remain patient and seated for your own well-being.¡±


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    With no real means of resisting, or for that matter even standing on his own, Andrew could only grimace and stare at the floor like a scolded child. He took deep breaths to keep himself calm as he flexed his hands, trying to fight through this constant state of exhaustion that seemed to be clutching his very core. It was infuriating to feel so helpless, so feeble when what felt like a few hours ago he was fully capable of walking, jogging, and forcing his way through a crowd of fellow convention goers with ease. Regardless of his physical state, he realized that he needed to remain calm until he knew more of what sort of situation he was in.


    A short while of awkward silence took place, with the man sitting on the bed avoiding eye contact with the bizarre woman until he heard the pneumatic hiss of what must be the door to the room. He looked over to see that there was indeed a door of some kind built seamlessly into the wall, from which a new figure arrived. He was tall with a lean figure, almost like a bean pole with a shaggy mop of hair atop a white lab coat. As he drew closer, Andrew couldn¡¯t help but see a striking resemblance between this new man and the woman sitting before him, though the man had a distinct addition of a small patch of chin hair and square glasses. His clothing was similarly lacking any sort of seam, marking, pockets or id card as far as Andrew could see, which made him nervous.


    The man, sensing Andrew¡¯s nervousness, raised his hands and spoke in a silky smooth voice that spoke of confidence and a relaxed atmosphere. ¡°Hey, buddy, relax a bit. Nobody is going to hurt you. Here, let me introduce myself, I am Doctor William Thast, though you can just call me Will if you¡¯d like. I prefer names instead of honorifics.¡±


    Unlike the oddly rigid stance of Miss Trina, Will¡¯s actions felt organic and real, and as Andrew noted, he was actually breathing and blinking unlike the woman. Andrew felt somewhat relieved to see that he was dealing with something more human than whatever the nurse was, though he kept up his guard as he responded to this doctor. ¡°Where am I really? I was told this was a hospital, but I don¡¯t believe that. What is this place?¡± Andrew felt his fingers digging into the bed, his heart thumping in his chest as he awaited the lank man¡¯s answer.


    William stared down at his patient with a somewhat sad expression, then with a glance to the nurse he nodded towards the door. ¡°Trina, can you give us a moment?¡± The nurse complied, silently walking towards the doorway and stopping outside, turning back right as the door slid shut with a hiss. Now alone with Andrew, the doctor sighed and walked over to the now abandoned chair to sit.


    With a sigh, the doctor rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the disoriented man sympathetically. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s be one hundred percent honest here. First off, this is a hospital, and this is a special room made to be a little more familiar to you. Yeah, it¡¯s not perfect, but budget cuts suck and recreating these monitors was a hassle. Regardless, this is the part of the hospital that deals with patients who might experience chrono-synaptic shock after waking up, and it¡¯s my home turf, so to speak.¡±


    Andrew blinked at him, not fully grasping the concepts being given to him. ¡°I¡­ what does that all mean? What exactly happened to me?¡±


    William sighed and scratched his chin, glancing up at the ceiling as he fumbled around with his words for a moment. ¡°Well¡­ uh¡­ shit, I guess there¡¯s no way to sugarcoat it. Alright, lemme ask you: What¡¯s the last thing you remember before waking up here? Maybe from there we can walk our way to where we are now, save some time on backtracking and all.¡± He waved a hand at Andrew, urging him to answer the counter-question.


    ¡°There was a bridge. I was walking home after a convention and¡­ something hit me from behind. It hurt, I was scared, and then¡­it got dark and cold. I woke up here after dreaming about being experimented on.¡± Andrew explained, slowly rubbing at his own elbow anxiously, dreading what might be said in reply.


    Humming for a moment, the strange doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded slowly. ¡°Alright¡­so that saves me some time, since you remember that much. So that thing that hit you on the bridge, that was a truck. You got hit by a pickup truck that spun out of control. It was fatal. You basically died right then and there, but we managed to save you.¡±


    Stunned, Andrew let out a shuddering gasp. ¡°Fuck¡­that¡¯s¡­damn. How did¡­how did you save me?¡±


    There was a pause as the doctor considered his words, glancing to the floor for a moment until he figured out how to answer. ¡°Honestly? We didn¡¯t save you so much as we just nabbed your brain out of your head. See, your body was completely smashed by that accident. Organs popped, bones snapped, and the spine¡­ yeesh, it was like a jigsaw puzzle. That, and there was no way we could get the rest of your body before it tumbled into the river, so we just took the one part that was still working and built up from there.¡±


    The answer he had heard horrified him, causing Andrew to choke on his words and stare at this doctor in show. Everything he had just heard was utterly insane, because as far as he could tell this was still his body. Then again, he realized that it made sense why he felt so wrong. Everything was sluggish, heavy, and his form was so scrawny now, it would only make sense that something was terribly wrong with him. He looked back to the doctor, his silent horror still etched into his face. ¡°Explain. Please, this doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±


    William nodded, reaching over to the side and picking up a loose pen and clipboard with paper on it. He began to scribble small figures, diagrams, and a strange machine as he began a lengthy explanation.


    ¡°Okay, so, this is going to be a crazy explanation, but just stick with me here. First off, this isn¡¯t the twenty-first century, it¡¯s the thirty-eighth. You¡¯re in the future, technically speaking. You seem to be following, so let¡¯s move on. How we did it was with a time machine slash teleporter device called the fixed time matter relay, which in essence acts as a one-way gateway to pull things from specific places and times in the past. Bermuda Triangle, Mount Everest, deep parts of random forests, anywhere where lots of people go missing is usually where this thing grabs people from. There¡¯s a really advanced series of conditions it uses to determine that whoever is being taken either never going to be seen again or otherwise would have died had we not taken them, but explaining that would take months of lessons in quantum mechanics and time-space emergent technologies. The end result is that people who were going to die in the past are brought to our present time, most of the time as either full bodies or bodies that can be restored from the state they were taken in, or in rare cases like yours, just the brain of the person. The machine does all it can to bring over as much of a person as it can, but the scan it got from you was¡­ bleak.¡±


    The doctor paused in his explanation, allowing Andrew to soak up the information and ask a question for confirmation. ¡°So¡­ you portaled my brain over a thousand years into the future because¡­I was basically roadkill?¡±


    The doctor bit his lip,nodding as he sucked air in through his teeth. ¡°Yeah¡­pretty much! There¡¯s a lot of science behind it, but boiled down, you¡¯ve basically got it.¡±


    Andrew closed his eyes and tried to understand it, but even he knew that what he was hearing didn¡¯t give him enough information. ¡°Why? What¡¯s the point of doing that? You pull people into the future, but there has to be some kind of reason, right?¡± He was trying his best not to become upset, but he felt the beginning of hysteria creep into the back of his mind.


    Instead of immediately replying, the thin man reached into his coat and produced a small white capsule-like device. With a few taps he managed to make a handful of pills appear from the machine, tossed them into his mouth, then offered some to Andrew. ¡°Here, take these. They¡¯re just mild anxiety meds, but they¡¯ll keep you calm as I explain. Even I need a few for what I¡¯m about to tell you.¡± The doctor stared at Andrew quietly until his sincerity was recognized and the man from the past took the pills.


    Once he swallowed them down, he took a deep breath and began again. ¡°War. That¡¯s why we¡¯re pulling people from the past. We¡¯re in the middle of a war and we are losing.I told you I wasn¡¯t gonna sugarcoat it, and I meant it. We need everything, from civilian cooks and doctors to soldiers and commanders, anything that¡¯ll help us protect Earth. Sure, it¡¯s not the most morally or ethically acceptable solution, but when your back¡¯s against the wall you do what you can.¡±


    Maybe it was whatever the drugs were, or perhaps it was just a dormant part of Andrew stirring, but the situation being explained like that made him somewhat lucid. ¡°Who are you at war with?¡±


    William was taken aback by the sudden interest, blinking a few times before his own curiosity came into play. ¡°You seem oddly interested, could I ask why? I mean, most others brought to this time begin asking when they can go back as soon as they are told about the process, perhaps because time travel is mentioned. Are you not interested in that?¡±


    Andrew himself seemed perplexed, mentally trying to gauge his own reactions. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Going back to see my family and friends again is definitely one of my top priorities, but¡­ this is time travel stuff, right? Can¡¯t you just send me back to my own time whenever you want? So technically, they won¡¯t even know I was hit by a truck or worry about me because I¡¯ll just come back to that time like nothing happened. And as for the war stuff, I was always sorta¡­ well¡­I like warfare from a historical point of view, so being given a chance to be a part of the history of the future seemed really crazy.¡±


    The doctor hummed and tapped his pen to his chin, smirking slightly as he gave Andrew a knowing stare. ¡°You were a bit of a science fiction lover, weren¡¯t you?¡± When Andrew nodded his agreement, the doctor smiled and chuckled. ¡°I thought so. We¡¯ve brought over many, many others like you, as well as soldiers. Fiction lovers took to the aspect of time travel easily, and warriors understood war in turn, but you had a grasp of both at the same time. While not unique, it is drastically refreshing compared to those who have neither and begin to beg and plead to be sent home immediately upon learning of the situation they are in.¡±


    There was a moment of hesitation before the time traveler could ask his next question. ¡°Can you send people back in time?¡±


    ¡°Of course. While the process of screening people for transit into the future must meet extremely specific criteria, sending people back is much simpler, so long as we follow certain procedures to not disrupt the timeline. You can probably guess, but people sent back have no memory of being taken here, or the idea of an alien abduction is implanted into their head. There¡¯s some sort of series of time-travel laws that exist that govern that what we do and have chosen to do is already set in stone so we can¡¯t actually create a paradox, but why tempt fate by giving it the chance to go terribly wrong?¡± The doctor chuckled, smiling slightly.


    After a moment of thinking, Andrew looked back up to the doctor with a renewed conviction. ¡°So who are you fighting? Is it aliens?¡±


    With a scoff, Doctor Thast rolled his eyes and shook his head. ¡°No, at least not this time. Humans, as always, are trying to kill themselves off because of a dispute. Actually, this whole war is because we don¡¯t know how to approach aliens. This side of the war, the Earth Coalition Supporters, wants to make peace and accept the rights of alien lifeforms while the others, the Mankind Supremacy Bloc, genuinely believe that alien life is detestable and needs to be destroyed. As you can imagine, the presence of such an ideological divide led to an unavoidable civil war, and now the entire solar system is a warzone. The aliens are understandably keeping their distance until this war has ended, though I dread to think what might be the fate of the human race if the MSB is victorious.¡± He sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head with remorse.


    ¡°That¡¯s so stupid.¡± Growled Andrew, a grim look on his face. ¡°How can people be so stupid, even in the future?¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it.¡± Breathed the doctor. He glanced at the man seated on the bed and saw his dour expression, and sensing that he was truly upset by this fact he smacked his lips and stood up to his full height to place a hand on his shoulder. When Andrew looked up at him he offered a kind smile to calm him. ¡°People have always been the same, but we can always do better. Anyways, I believe this talk has at least given you a firm grasp of your situation here, and you can now rest at least a little easier. I don¡¯t expect you to leap up from your bed and immediately rush for the front lines, but since you are recovering from full body cellular reconstruction you can at least rest for a few more days and think things over. These are dire times, but we are not so desperate that we will force those we bring to the future into service.¡±


    The doctor then assisted his patient back into bed comfortably, laying him on his back and slipping a small device around his wrist. With a push on its circular face Miss Trina rushed in, her eerie smile seeming much less intimidating to Andrew than before. He looked up from his bed at her, then back and forth between them in slight confusion. ¡°Right, you probably want to know about her. Miss Trina is a false-synthetic, a mixture of organic tissue and flexible machinery around a metal skeleton. She is a fully capable caretaker and will provide you with anything you request of her, and she can assist you in many other categories such as teaching and physical rehabilitation. If I am not around, a mere press of a button will have her rushing here to assist. And yes, she looks just like me, I have heard it too many times already. You can blame my sister for that, as she was the woman who invented and mass produced the Trina model based on her own cells. Every nurse here looks like her, so finding the real Mary is impossible.¡±


    Andrew was about to comment on this when another lookalike to Miss Trina walked through the door, staring at him with the same unblinking glare. ¡°Doctor, patient fifty-eight is experiencing a second rejection to the altered membrane surgery. We are currently following your directions to mitigate the cellular damage, but your expertise is required.¡±


    William let out a tired sigh, taking his pill dispenser out from his pocket and downing another duo of pills as he turned for the door. ¡°Alright, on my way. Administer compound nine and apply stabilizing ointment in quadruple dosage for both. Keep her in the yellow at the very least. Andrew, you rest easy now, and if you¡¯re hungry there¡¯s some pretty decent food that Trina can get you from the cafeteria. I¡¯ll be back later, buddy.¡±


    With that Andrew was left alone with the caretaker synthetic, her watchful gaze constantly looking over him. With a weary groan he closed his eyes and sank into the sheets, fumbling his hand around to find the controls that would set his bed back to being flat. Once fully reclined he closed his eyes, hoping that his fatigue would dissipate with the passage of time. It wasn¡¯t long before he drifted off to sleep, Trina seated beside him in an idle state while the lights dimmed automatically.


    __________


    Somewhere, on a distant battlefield in a city long reduced to rubble, three soldiers dressed in a gray drab huddled in the ruins, clutching sleek black rifles in their arms tightly. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance as rain poured down the cracked stone walls and torn metal panels. All three had their eyes peeled, peering out into the gloom of a monotone landscape on all sides. The very air was a ripple of light, a field of tv static that made the towering spires all around them blend together into a single wall of indistinguishable landmarks.


    One of the soldiers nervously toyed with a selector switch on his weapon, breathing steadily as he watched for any sign of movement in the lifeless city. ¡°Is it still out there?¡± He asked, his eyes darting to the man next to him.


    ¡°It is. These bastards never quit once they smell blood.¡± He growled, adjusting his rifle to rest against his shoulder.


    The third man looked out to the right, slowly raising his weapon and patting the middle man¡¯s leg to get his attention. ¡°North. One-fifty meters. Movement between the buildings.¡±


    The others snapped to look in that direction, faces turned to stone as they raised their weapons. They peered through the downpour to try and see what their ally had seen, but the torrent was a curtain that obscured any attempt to see anything. A few moments of tense silence filled the air as the three men waited patiently for something to happen, but no such event came. When the man on the right relaxed the other two calmed as well, though their attention was on the third man.


    The middle man nudged him, frowning under his helmet. ¡°You just fucking with us?¡±


    ¡°No. There was something there, I know there was.¡± He hissed, his gun still tightly in his hands.


    The left man shook his head and turned to look on his side, letting out a frustrated whine. ¡°How can you see anything through all this? Thermals, dead. Magnetics, dead. EMF, off the charts. Geiger¡­ don¡¯t even ask about the Geiger counter. Can¡¯t see shit, can¡¯t hear shit, the fucker probably lost us.¡±


    The middle man rolled his eyes and peered down from their ledge to the streets below, noting the many wrecked vehicles around them. ¡°Maybe. We¡¯d hear it if it kicked the rumbler, but it¡¯s still-¡±


    His voice cut off as a groan came from the opposite side of the building. The three spun around, staring across the long empty space of the ruins to see the rain on the far side. All three tensed up as something moved in the rain, something enormous that reached up to the fifteenth floor they were on. The thing moved with surprising grace, the rain pattering off its shape making a clear silhouette as it got closer to the building. It was sleek, angular, and definitely not a shape they were happy to see. It stopped a short distance from the building, almost as if it could sense the eyes upon it.


    The left man swallowed hard and began to stand up, only for the middle man to grab his belt and hold him at a crouch. He protested quietly, kneeling but glaring at the middle man. ¡°It¡¯s right fucking there! We need to get out of here!¡±


    The middle man growled, his finger pressing the trigger in anticipation of a fight. ¡°Shut up! We¡¯re fucked either way we run, so just wait! Maybe it hasn¡¯t seen us yet¡­¡±


    The third man, the one on the right, was deathly silent as he squinted at the thing in the rain. ¡°It¡¯s not the same one.¡± He growled, closing his eyes and bowing his head.


    The middle man saw his ally lowering his gun and gasped, nudging him harshly. ¡°The fuck are you talking about? Get your weapon up or-¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re already dead.¡± Declared the third man, his voice solemn and resigned.


    A moment later the three were bathed in red light, not from what they were facing, but from something behind them. The middle man and the left man spun around to see a massive form in the rain right behind them, glowing red light shining through the rain. Panic set in, and the center man raised his gun to fire. One shot got off before something crashed into him, wrapping around him and pulling him free of the building. The left man, scared beyond his wits, tried to flee towards the stairs. He screamed, dropped his gun, and sprinted as fast as he could. He was approaching the stairs quickly, his body a blur as he sprinted towards it, but he would never make it there. One moment he was there, body whole and the exit within his reach, and the next there was nothing but a crash of thunder and a red mist where his torso once was. His legs tumbled towards the landing and rolled, flopping to the ground a few inches from the way out.


    From the rain came the sound of screams from the second man, frantic gunfire that only succeeded in illuminating the enormous metal beast that held him aloft. There was a hiss, a whine, and a revving sound as something like heavy machinery began to move, followed by a gargled scream and the snapping sound of human bones. The third man, after hearing his allies meet their gruesome ends, began to weep softly as he unclasped his sidearm. He slowly raised it, armed it, and pressed it to his own helmet. The titans in the rain made no move to stop him, they merely watched as the poor man fell lifelessly to the ground in a heap.


    Then, as suddenly as they appeared they vanished into the rain, lightning and thunder crashing and illuminating their massive humanoid forms as they hunted down more soldiers hiding in the ruins.

 Thats a Tank! PT2

    One week has passed since Andrew awoke within the strange metal room, and for him much has changed. The first and most important change was him regaining his own autonomy, at least for the most part. As Doctor Thast had briefed him a few days after waking up, he wasn¡¯t fully acclimated to his newly regenerated body and would suffer some slight motor function troubles, but with some time his brain would fully map his regrown nerve endings and come to recognize it as his own body in due time. The simple cure-all was time and exercise, two things that made Andrew slightly annoyed putting up with but were nonissues now that he was finally allowed some freedom to roam the hospital halls.


    The second development was the things he was able to see and do now that his legs could take him places. At first he merely explored his room with the assistance of Trina, inspecting all of the hidden features that made his room a fully functional house on its own. Once he was able to move about with only a pair of crutches he was granted access to the halls, which were always filled with a marching line of Trinas going from room to room, checking on patients and carrying meals to them with the same uncharismatic smile. The building was more of the same as his room: bland gray walls, blue floors of varying shades, and bright lights that made his eyes sting looking at them. It wasn¡¯t until he wandered a fair distance from his room that he finally found a window to look out of, the view of which took his breath away.


    Blue skies, white fluffy clouds, and great silver spires that rose to touch them like colossal metal fingers. Small dots of chrome drifted through the sky all around the futuristic city outside, no doubt some kind of drones or hovercrafts, as bright flashy billboards flew through the air on their own like confetti. The whole scene of a bustling, lively city that shimmered and changed colors was wreathed by a sea of green grass and lush forests, as if the grand innovations of man had simply pierced through the ground in the middle of an ancient forest. He wondered where on Earth he was, given how he had never seen a forest so magnificent or a range of flat mountains capped with snow.


    Lastly, the third major development in his week of recovery was being given his own smart device, similar but not entirely like a smartphone in many ways, that was able to adhere to any surface regardless of material and be recalled by the one linked to it. Although he had only just begun to use it and explore its features, he was encouraged just by having something that he understood the functions of and could pass his resting hours with. Already it had helped him learn the date, the year, and the day that would begin his first day of what William had called advanced physical therapy. It would begin the next day, Monday, the fifteenth of November, thirty-eight-nineteen (15/11/3819).


    The next morning, Trina awoke him with a gentle nudge. ¡°Andrew, the doctor requests your presence in the rehabilitation center. Please follow me.¡± She made her request in that same thick accent of hers, hiding away the soft sounds of her words and giving them a rough sound.


    Andrew groaned and pinched his eyes towards the bridge of his nose, hissing through his teeth as the glaring lights responded to his awakening by hitting him with a harsh beam of unforgiving shine. ¡°Alright, shit, I¡¯m getting up! Ugh, can you dim the lights? I can¡¯t see.¡±


    His request was met after a moment of delay, but not before he had already pushed himself up and moved to the foot of the bed. He ignored the fact that the lights had taken so long to dim and instead just left the bed, grabbing his crutches and turning to the robotic lady who would lead him to where he needed to go. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m good to go.¡±


    He hobbled after her as she went through the portal to the hallway, followed her as she took a left, a right, two more lefts, and another right in order to guide him to their destination. Andrew noticed along the way that some of the Trinas were now standing idly by the doorways to some of the rooms, an unnervingly remorseful look on their faces with their eyes completely blank. Their lifeless state made him uneasy as he followed the active Trina towards a set of doors that were distinct from the others, as they were square, had a detailed frame around them, and were thick like some kind of bulkhead.


    Trina led him to the doors and stepped to one side, gesturing to the door before him invitingly. ¡°The doctor is inside, along with your fellow patients. Please enter and begin physical rehabilitation.¡± She then blinked once and began to droop slightly, becoming a mirror of all of the deactivated copies they had passed along the way.


    With no real option to pry further, and a gnawing sense of curiosity eating away at him, he staggered forwards to the door until he passed some kind of threshold where a sensor could see him and unlock the metal doorway. As the doors opened, he was able to make out many details of the place he was entering just at a glance as it was almost like a gymnasium. Sleek white floors with red dots and lines to show a court and a track, a row of stands that came out from the very wall to offer dozens of seats for those gathered, and visible marking along the walls and ceiling that would undoubtedly dispense some form of equipment like the features his room was capable of providing him with.


    He let his eyes roam the room for a moment before he realized that he was not alone in this chamber, and in fact he was now the object of everyone¡¯s focus. Seated on the bleachers were two dozen or more people of every size, shape, and varied nationalities giving him looks of annoyance or concern as he shuffled towards them. Each of them wore one of the seamless hospital gowns like he did, their forms hidden by the knee-length hem of the long,clinical sheets of cloth.


    Andrew was able to pick out a few that looked unique compared to a majority of the others. One of them was a man of obvious Asian descent, perhaps Japanese given the knot of hair kept atop his head and the thinly trimmed facial hair that gave him a strong appearance, who stared at the others around him with mild disinterest. Another was a rather fidgety girl with bubblegum pink hair, a tattoo of a rose on her cheek, and a scar on her forehead that gave the impression that she had been shot recently. Another was a woman with short fiery red hair and a depressed look on her face, who sat off to one side with her arms crossed over her chest. Then finally, the most jarring of all was a large bearded man with fierce eyes and sun-darkened skin, his body a wall of thick muscles that stretched his patient gown around his barrel sized chest. Sure, there were plenty of others in the group that stood out or had noticeably distinct features, but these people had an air about them that made him keep his guard up.


    At the front of the collective was none other than the doctor, who stood in his usual hunched stance as he popped a few more pills into his mouth. He cast a sedated yet joyful smile towards the newcomer, sticking his thumbs into the loop of his pants as he began to speak. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s everyone. Andrew, if you would kindly take a seat¡­thank you. So, hello everyone, you all know me already: Doctor William Thast, or just Will for short. Welcome to your first day of physical rehab. Now is when I¡¯ll go over things like ground rules, the purpose and process of this program, and also the different ways this program ends. Afterwards, we will begin session one. Let¡¯s get started.¡±


    Will then snapped his fingers to make a solid white panel appear from the wall and hover over towards him, like a holographic whiteboard already listing the rules on it. He extended his hand and pointed to them from top to bottom, listing each one with a tired smile. ¡°Rule number one: no skipping out on rehab. I know most of you would like to stay holed up in your rooms, poke at the tv and watch the news, and just avoid working out, but your bodies need exercise before you can be discharged. Rule two: no fighting. There might be some exceptions to this rule, such as sparring matches or some activities that get hands-on, but trying to start something outside of those specified events will end with the culprit going into private rehab with Miss Trina, which is not as good as that sounds. Trust me, a machine doesn¡¯t know what it means to be exhausted, so you will just suffer. Third rule: no stealing or smuggling. I know you might like some of the fun gadgets from the gym, but they stay here. Same goes for everything in the halls, the cafeteria, and any other rooms you can access. If it isn¡¯t yours, don¡¯t take it, it¡¯s that simple. Anyways, that¡¯s about it. Questions?¡±


    The room was silent for a moment until a person from the crowd stood up, and a shy woman with braided hair spoke up in a rich Spanish accent. ¡°When can we go home?¡±


    The doctor looked at her with an unwavering smirk, leaning from one hip to the other and pointing his finger at her with a snap. ¡°Great question, Gabriela, and one that is probably on everyone¡¯s minds. As I told you all before, sending you back to your times is no problem, but in your current state you wouldn¡¯t do very well when you got back. To put it into perspective, Gabriela, you¡¯re from Spain in the twelve-hundreds, and at the time that you were brought here you were drowned when your grandfather¡¯s boat sank.If you were to go back right now, sent back to the night of your disappearance in the state you are in currently, you would not survive. You see folks, this is because time travel is a highly traumatic experience for the human body. You will arrive in one piece, but the friction of transposing your molecules back to your original time along with the energy currents you have to ride will leave you exhausted and on the brink of collapse. That is usually why when we send you back we give you the neurally implanted story of being visited by aliens or going into the fairy woods, so that when people find you they have some form of story to latch onto. There¡¯s a hundred reasons why we do things this way, but priority one is your safe return.¡±


    Gabriela blinked at him a few times, teetering between sitting back down and confirming what the answer to her question was. ¡°So¡­ we can go home once we are¡­ strong enough?¡±


    ¡°Exactly right.¡± William declared, clapping his hands a single time that made the woman flinch. ¡°Once you¡¯re healed and in peak physical shape we can send you back, but to do that you¡¯d need to complete your sessions here until I can personally verify that you¡¯ll be able to pass through time without dematerializing or losing all cognitive functions.¡±


    Another person stood up as Gabriela sat down, a dark man with wary eyes and thick band-like scars around his neck and wrists who pointed at William accusingly. ¡°And what if we don¡¯t want to fight in your war, but we also don¡¯t want to go back to our time? You gonna just send us away?¡±


    William wore a deeply sorrowful expression at the man who had spoken up, crossing his arms and sighing softly. ¡°Another fine question, and one particularly of interest to you, John. Thank you. I will state it here for all of you to hear: no, we will not discard, dispose of, or even dismiss those brought here, even if they decline the call to arms. The people of my time are in need of every kind of citizen, of every kind of person. We are at war, yes, but carrying arms is not the only way to contribute. Working hands, skilled hands, wise hands, calm hands, all of them can contribute, and all will be paid as equal members of employ, not as slaves to be branded and extorted. Do you understand that, John?¡± He had a brow raised at the man in question, his face still holding onto a calm, compassionate look.


    John pursed his lips and stared at the doctor for a long moment, then with a simple nod he sat back down and put his hands together as if he were praying. The room was silent for a moment, until the thickly muscled man with the menacing expression straightened his back and tilted his head at the doctor with a wicked smile. ¡°Mister, may I ask how it is that we can speak of the same language? It is strange that a man of Bretagne can converse with the men of East and West, no?¡±


    Unlike with the other patients in the room, William appeared to be annoyed by the question and tapped his foot impatiently as he answered. ¡°A good question, though I am disappointed that you are asking me for the nineteenth time and you still don¡¯t understand my answer, Antoine. For those who haven¡¯t asked the same question repeatedly, there is a tiny piece of special metal inside of your head that makes every word you hear sound like your own language, and even makes it look like they¡¯re speaking your language. I am speaking my own language. Antoine is speaking his language. Gabriela and John spoke their own languages, yet all of you heard it as your own. It is a special metal that is hard to make, and it can be removed very easily by a trained professional. It will not harm you, and it is not worth a lot of money.¡±


    The doctor¡¯s last statement seemed directly targeted at Antoine himself, who sneered and leaned back in his seat with a laugh. Some looks of concern and confusion were shared amongst the gathered patients, but when no one asked any more questions for a while it became clear that there wasn¡¯t anything pressing on their minds.Will took in a breath of air and turned to his floating screen, his hand reaching for the board when he heard a voice behind him.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Spoke the redheaded woman, her once sorrowful eyes now filled with hope. Now that she had stood up, it was clear to everyone around that her cascade of messy hair had been hiding a series of swirling marks on her skin that covered her arms and right cheek. ¡°The people of the future are strong. If I go home, I will take strong weapons with me. The Gaul fight invaders. We need weapons. Healer should give the weapons to us.¡±


    The doctor didn¡¯t turn around before someone next to her spoke up. They were a short and thin woman, with large glasses and straight hair hanging down her back. ¡°That¡¯s absurd. You want to take weapons from the future into the past? That¡¯s insane, and terribly reckless. What if you trying to change the past causes a paradox or something? Besides, the Celtic tribes were actually able to adapt over time and become a part of Roman rule and persist even to modern times.¡±


    The red haired woman stared in utter silence, her hands curling into balled fists. From behind her came a jeering laugh from a man with slicked back hair and a lean form beneath his gown. ¡°Lady, you¡¯re barking up the wrong tree, asking for a piece from these clowns. What kinda bozo would trust a broad with a heater anyhow? And the Hell is a Gaul anyway, some kind of book club? Jeez, it¡¯s like this future stuff has turned the whole world kookie, ya dig? Things would be cool and smooth if everyone rolled like my boys in the Blue Wheelers.¡±


    The redhead in between them glanced from one to the other, then stared at William for an answer he did not provide. Then, with a sudden shift she became hostile with a feral roar. The first one hit was the bookish girl, a fist planting itself into one of her cheeks that sent her tumbling off to the side. The greaser was next, and before he could raise his hands to defend himself he was knocked to the ground by a gut punch. A slightly round man in front of her tried to stand and make a statement in a blustering voice, but a shove caused him to tumble over and clear a path. Her eyes turned on William, who stood there unfazed by her animosity, and she lunged at him.


    There was a flash, a crackle, and all at once the scene became still with the warrior woman falling face first on the ground. Though most were confused by what had happened, the quiet man who looked like a samurai squinted at the cannon that had deployed from the ceiling to diffuse the situation. With a flip of its gun it was gone, leaving the shocked crowd staring down at the would-be attacker as she twitched on the ground. William frowned and sighed, kneeling beside her to place his fingers on her neck for a pulse. He nodded and rose to his feet moments before six Trinas rushed in and formed a line in front of the door.


    ¡°Trina, take our unruly patient back to her room, please. Ensure her access to the halls is limited without your supervision, for her own safety. Thank you.¡± His orders were received and carried out in a fraction of a second, the coppery haired warrior vanishing into the arms of the androids as she was spirited away. William turned to look at the group, taking out his pills and popping another trio. ¡°My apologies, her outburst is not the first, but with some luck it might be her last. Now, were there any more questions?¡±


    Silence hung in the air, and all eyes were on the man in the labcoat. He clicked his tongue before looking back to his screen, his finger drawing on the board like a marker. ¡°That¡¯s fine, we¡¯re almost done anyways. We¡¯ve covered the rules, and inadvertently gone over exactly why rehab is important, so let¡¯s move on to how this ends. Like I said before, everyone has to reach a point in which I deem them viable for time-jumping before they are allowed to go back, but this also applies for those who wish to stay as well. The reason for this is rather simple: those who are able to endure the strain of time jumping are strong enough to either move into a civilian lifestyle, or move on to basic training for military service. Or, to simplify, it means that you¡¯re healthy enough to leave this hospital, period.¡± He tapped his finger into the screen to punctuate his words after writing down the three ways they could leave the hospital: The past, as civilians, or as soldiers.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Many of the patients looked at the board silently, not wanting to drag things on any longer. Andrew felt the same way, as the questions and disputes had only made him a bit anxious. His mind had been filled with worries, such as being left behind or being singled out due to him being the only one with crutches. He could see the small peeks people were taking of him, and he knew they were all thinking the same thing as he was. He was sure that while everyone else was progressing along to the point of leaving, he was going to be struggling on his crutches just to relearn walking.


    Despite this, he wasn¡¯t feeling disheartened just yet. Perhaps it was just misplaced confidence, but he felt as though he wasn¡¯t going to be left behind at all. He¡¯d been turned into a roadside pancake and was glued back together, and it seemed to him as though most of the people in this rehab group didn¡¯t quite grasp things as well as he did. It was a classic underdog story, where the odds were stacked against him but he had an ace up his sleeve. He was sure that no matter what, he¡¯d be back in peak condition in no time.


    Doctor Will had just finished writing down one more line beneath all of the others, stepping back to unveil it. He pointed to the last line with a smile, leaning his tall body forward to hold his arm at a perfect ninety degree angle. ¡°Alright, so with all of that out of the way, we can go to rehab day one¡¯s special activity: swimming!¡±


    A pit formed in Andrew¡¯s stomach right away, and his face became stone-like as he stared at the little cartoon stick figure protruding from the blue squiggly line Will had drawn. Swimming was one thing that Andrew was almost entirely incapable of doing. He¡¯d gone to the ocean, to pools, to lake and rivers, but no matter what he would always just sink to the bottom like he was made of lead. He pursed his lips and stared with serious eyes at the doctor, hoping this was a joke.


    William raised a hand and snapped his fingers, causing the floor behind him to slither away like a startled serpent. Where it once was a fake wooden floor was now a pool of shimmering blue water, complete with little ladders, a deep end, and even some floatation devices that plopped into the water as if they¡¯d been tossed in by invisible hands. Andrew began to shiver as he looked at the pool, all of his terrible memories of near-death encounters at water parks and public pools resurfacing alongside his actual death in that dark river all at once. He felt like he was about to puke, though the others didn¡¯t seem nearly as bothered or even as hesitant.


    One at a time they approached the pool, either kneeling by it or tentatively touching it with their toes and hands to ensure it was safe. The girl with the straight hair, the same one who had been punched and was now cradling a red cheek, meekly approached the doctor to tug at his sleeve with a question. ¡°Um¡­ do we get any sort of bathing suits or swimming equipment? These gowns are pleasant to wear, but I would rather not have them drifting in the water and possibly¡­ erm¡­ showing too much.¡± She grumbled her last words, adjusting her glasses and averting her eyes with a blush.


    William gave a soft chuckle, reached into his pocket, then with a spray from a chrome canister to the girl¡¯s cheek he gave an answer. ¡°Your clothes are semi-adaptable, Leslie. Simply enter the water and they will change into a less revealing outfit. It might look a bit ugly, but it¡¯s a handy little garment, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± His words were laced with that subtle tone of mischief as usual, though the glasses wearing girl didn¡¯t seem to have a response due to her face miraculously healing. She rubbed at her cheek and let out a gasp as the redness faded away, leaving her slack jawed in awe at the futuristic remedy that had so effortlessly fixed her recent injury.


    She was about to offer her thanks when a loud splash came from the pool, followed by the boisterous laughter of Antoine as he dove and resurfaced with glee. He acted as though he were in his element, his messy hair clinging to his head and shoulders as he stood up in the shallow end with a triumphant holler. His outburst, whether it was intended to do so, helped to demonstrate the self-correcting form of the patient garbs as he stood there boasting. The open bottomed gown had closed in around him, forming a tight suit with leg holes just above his knees. The strange man, in his strange suit, continued to cheerfully tread through the water as if it were his natural state of being.


    The other patients, encouraged by the rather joyous outburst of the first in the water, began to get into the water one by one as William encouraged them in. The whole group was in the water, everyone except Andrew and the stoic man with the topknot. The doctor did a head count of those in front of him before turning back, and with a slight frown he scratched the back of his head. ¡°Hey, come on, this is day one¡¯s activity and I specifically picked one all of you could enjoy. Don¡¯t sit there and frown, get in!¡± He encouraged, beckoning them forth.


    Neither of them moved, but the stern man dismissed the invitation with a wave. ¡°I have died once while in the river. I shall pass.¡± He stated, completely closing off the conversation.


    Andrew took in a deep breath, shaking his head from side to side. ¡°Same as him. Me and water aren¡¯t friends.¡±


    William, unfortunately, didn¡¯t seem to be convinced nor swayed. ¡°Oh come on, I know that both of you are just being awkward. First off, Tora, you didn¡¯t die in a river, you got shot in the back and fell into a river, so no drowning even happened. Andrew, the same goes for you, you got hit by a truck and were dead before you hit the water. I¡¯d be more sympathetic if this was a casual get together, but it¡¯s not. Get in the water, or Trina will politely escort you into the water.¡± There was a hint of annoyance in his voice, as well as a glint of a genuine threat.


    The stern man, or as he was now known as Tora, blinked slowly before standing and walking calmly to the edge of the pool. He slipped in with a humble sort of grace, maintaining a neutral yet slightly irritated look on his face.


    Conversely, Andrew was not as willing. He hobbled to the edge of the pool on his crutches, stopped at the shallow end, and tried taking deep breaths to prepare himself. His mind was trying to reassure him that it would be fine, that Will wouldn¡¯t allow him to drown, but he kept hold of his doubts and worries. He glanced to the bleachers, to the doctor, and to the door, wondering what he should do, if he should run, or just get it over with. His choice wasn¡¯t really his own to make, as he felt a strong, wet hand grab his ankle from the water and begin pulling him in.


    It was Antoine wearing a big grin who was attempting to abduct him, and he was succeeding without any sort of strain apparent on his face. ¡°Come now, swimming together is how it will be! No hiding or being a coward, little Andrew!¡± He was so jolly as he said this, despite easily tipping the shaky man forwards and into the water as his crutches clattered to the ground behind him.


    There was only a split second to react to what was happening, just enough time to take a breath and close his eyes before impact. He felt it slap him in the face with a harsh sting before enveloping him in its cool embrace, offsetting the prickling feeling in his skin with the soothing sensation of bubbles escaping his clothes and skittering towards the surface. He held his eyes shut tight, squirming under the water as he fought to find which way was up and reaching around for anything to act as an anchor point and bring him up. It was then that he felt himself being drawn back up to the surface, and with some effort he was able to stand upright in the pool, bobbing above the surface and coughing from the water he had gotten into his nose and mouth.


    As he stood there, sputtering to clear the water from his eyes with his palms, he overheard William speaking behind him in an authoritative manner. ¡°Antoine, would you kindly refrain from endangering others? That comes dangerously close to a breakage of the second rule, and is generally unacceptable in civilized places.¡±


    A deep belly laugh came as a response, along with a slap to Andrew¡¯s back that nearly took him off his feet and managed to make him open his eyes despite the reflexive way he screwed his eyes shut when they got wet. ¡°Ah, but sir, he was being a coward! It is water that is shallow, and this is our rehabilitation. He should have listened to his doctor right away and not delayed in getting to the swimming. Besides, look at him, he is fine and well with not even a hair missing from his head!¡± Antoine¡¯s grin was seeping through his words, making Andrew scowl as he realized how this obnoxious man could just smile and laugh off nearly drowning someone.


    William also seemed to be somewhat upset, but he was both bound by his professionalism and unable to dispute the validity of the claims made. ¡°While you are correct in some regards, it is my job to see this operation and rehabilitation facility function, not yours. Do try to refrain from offering help unless the situation requires you to do so. That being said, please step away from Andrew and do not endanger him further. His situation is significantly less stable than yours at the moment and requires some additional guidance.¡±


    Antoine seemed to lose interest at that and lazily drifted away, slipping between other patients as they kept themselves afloat as best as they could. Andrew was given a towel to dry his face and clear his nostrils while William moved towards the side of the pool. He cleared his throat and motioned for those in the pool to get closer, his floating white board drifting over with a blank slate ready for him. He quickly scribbled out a diagram of what he wanted them to do, and pointing to it he explained the task. ¡°Today we will be starting things off with a mixture of exercise, social interaction, and swimming lessons all bundled up into one activity.This is a simple game, one where you are to divide into even numbered groups and take a ball. Your objective is to keep the ball in the air as long as you can and not allow it to touch the water. You may bounce it, catch it, toss it, pass it between yourself and your teammates, whatever works to keep it in the air. Communicate with your partner, and if you let the ball hit the water you switch partners with someone else. Does everyone understand the game?¡±


    There was a mixture of affirmative nods and murmured answers, which for the doctor was good enough. With a wave of his hand a crate full of volleyballs rolled into the room from a slot in the wall, and on a little motorized bed it rolled over to the pool and began dispensing them one at a time out of a little chute. People were beginning to partner up already, with men and women starting off with introductions and explaining how they would do things, like passing it or trying to go for height and distance. Andrew, on the other hand, remained by the ladder with his hands white-knuckled around the poles, his eyes cast down into the shimmering blue beneath him. He wasn¡¯t just fuming at the burly man¡¯s attempt at ¡°helping¡± him, and he wasn¡¯t just embarrassed beyond belief, but he was also so incredibly out of place now that William had said something so stupid.


    He cursed to himself silently. Seriously? He has a ¡°significantly less stable¡± situation? The phrasing made it sound like he was either some frail little twig or a genuine nutcase. How was he supposed to socialize with people in this stupid game if everyone was going to avoid him? He was self aware enough to know that sulking wouldn¡¯t fix things, but he honestly didn¡¯t want to reach out just to be pushed away.


    ¡°You.¡± Came a stern voice he recognized. He looked up and stared at none other than Tora, who stood in the water with crossed arms before him. He wore a look of disinterest, but as he stared at Andrew he let out a sigh from his nostrils. ¡°This activity, we must participate in. I dislike that I am forced to, but to resist these Trinas and the doctor is an undoable task. It would be better to comply and fulfill this recovery they speak of.¡± He glanced around the room as he spoke, almost intent on not making eye contact.


    Bewildered would be a fantastic word to describe how Andrew felt, but he wasn¡¯t going to let his shock keep him from accepting the offer. With slow, painfully deliberate motions he let go of his lifeline and stood on his shaky legs in the water. He took a deep breath to regain his composure, and with a nod he finally gave a reply. ¡°Y-yeah, let¡¯s do this!¡± He tried to sound optimistic and perhaps energetic, but his voice betrayed how anxious he was.


    Tora didn¡¯t seem to care too much and simply stood there, arms crossed and looking bored. He looked over his shoulder to see an unattended ball drifting along like many others the machine had carelessly dropped, and with a simple scooping motion he had it in his hands. For a moment he seemed curious about the ball, giving it a few squeezes and a toss in the air to get a feel for it before going back to his stoicism. ¡°This is the object of our game?¡± He asked, holding it out for Andrew to take.


    Accepting the ball, Andred did a similar act of getting a feel for the ball, realizing that its texture reminded him of a foam dodgeball more than a volleyball, yet the weight and plushness wasn¡¯t like either of them. ¡°That¡¯s what Will said. Oh¡­um, I know I heard your name earlier, but I remember names better if I hear them from the owner, and it¡¯s better for the game. Getting to know each other, I mean. Uh¡­crap. My name is Andrew.¡± He fumbled with his words terribly, and he visibly winced at how awful he had explained himself.


    Taro blinked at him slowly, then with an amused scoff he replied. ¡°Kitamori Tora, or if you would prefer, just Tora. None I have spoken with so far have addressed me by my family name, so I suppose it is of little importance here, or perhaps in this time. It does not matter to me, as I do not carry the Kitamori name with honor anymore regardless.¡± Silence fell over him at those last words, his expression darkening for a moment until he realized the lack of traction in their talk. ¡°An unimportant matter. Pass the ball to me.¡±


    Andrew complied, giving the ball a small shove into the air for Tora to catch with one hand. He then flicked his wrist and sent the ball back towards the thinner man, making him let out a sound of worry as the ball almost slipped through his fingers. The ball was successfully caught, but now Andrew was much less confident in his motor functions as a whole due to their continued sluggishness.


    Tora eyes him warily, and as the ball was passed back to him he offered a friendly question. ¡°William made a claim that you were unwell somehow. Is it natural born feebleness, or did your arrival here come at a cost.¡± With a gentler flick he sent the ball back over at a speed that was easier to manage for Andrew.


    ¡°Uh, the second one fits, I guess. I was in a pretty bad accident when they saved me, so they had to put me back together from head to toe.¡± The ball went back to Tora, who switched to using his left hand to catch and his right to return.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ what sort of injury was it? Wait, perhaps I should ask what kind of world you have come from before asking that. Hmm¡­¡± Tora thought to himself as he served the ball again, this time with a bit of height so the other man had to jump slightly.


    ¡°Those are pretty good questions, and I¡¯m not gonna lie, I think I wanted to ask the same. I¡¯ve got an idea of when you came from, but I didn¡¯t just want to guess in case I was wrong.¡± Andrew passed the ball back with a high arc, then put his hands to his hips as he resumed. ¡°But you want an answer first, probably. Well, both answers are pretty simple. I came from North America of the twenty-first century, a time when machinery and electronics were the biggest aspect of my time. As for the injury, let¡¯s just say that it was a rainy day and one of those machines had someone in control that ran me over. All that the doctor salvaged was my brain, and this body is what he cooked up¡­ somehow.¡±


    Tora took a moment to digest his words, reaching a hand up and rubbing his lower lip in concentration. ¡°You were reduced to a brain, and were somehow pieced back together? Impossible. No, you were not lying, so that is the truth. This power the people of the future hold, it is not something I can truly fathom.¡± With a shake of his head he puts the ball under his arm, thoroughly submerging it.


    Andrew stares at the ball, then at Tora, and slowly wonders what to do now. By the rules of the game they were supposed to swap now, but the man before him was too busy thinking to respond. He cast a glance to William to see how he was reacting to this blatant rule breaking, but to his astonishment he saw that the doctor was not only aware of their defiance of his game and the same from others, but was smiling at them as they fumbled and dropped the ball only to go back to their game. Andrew paused and thought it over, and realization dawned upon him. Will didn¡¯t care about the rules, he had simply given people a way out if they didn¡¯t like who they were playing with and wanted to meet and greet others. He squinted at the man in the white coat, who upon sensing the judging stare upon him turned and flashed the young man a little smirk.


    What a sly fox, Andrew thought to himself, too absorbed in his thoughts to notice Tora readying to toss the ball. He barely turned in time to catch it as the stern man began to speak once more. ¡°Your time, your death, and this future place confuse me, but I can understand that I am from a time before yours. I shall tell you of my own time, since you have told me of yours, and I shall reveal how I was slain. You see, I was a warrior of the lord, a samurai of the shogun Ashikaga, during a time of many battles. I was not struck by a machine, but slain in an ambush as I led my horse to the river. Arrows pierced my body and I rolled into the water, the world becoming cold and dark as the water consumed me. I then awoke here, in this time, with the strange unblinking women and the tall doctor.¡±


    Andrew took a moment to digest the story presented to him. A samurai shot in the back as he went to water his horse. To him it was oddly tragic yet poetic at the same time, like something seen in dramas or epics. He squeezed the ball between his hands, pondering what to say next to this fallen warrior. ¡°That really sucks. I¡¯m sorry that happened to you.¡± It was all he could really say to him, though he felt it wasn¡¯t the most elegant way to put it.


    Tora gave a slow blink as he nodded in agreement with the statement. ¡°It was not an honorable death as one would desire, but in a way it was a fitting end for me. Your sympathy is¡­ appreciated, young Andrew.¡±


    Being called young made him do a double take, thinking quickly and staring long and hard at this stoic and steady man. He thought that the man couldn¡¯t be older than his mid-thirties, could he? It would be absurd for him to be any older than that. ¡°Young man¡­is it too late to say that I¡¯m actually twenty two?¡±


    Tora frowned and jerked his head back, clearly taken by surprise. ¡°You are one year my junior? But you look so young!¡±


    Andrew was equally surprised, letting the ball fall and drift away as he pointed a finger at the samurai. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re only twenty three? Why are you acting like some kind of sage warrior then? And why do you look so much older?¡±


    Tora made a grimace that was much worse and his disapproving look, his lips pulled into an upside-down ¡°U¡± as he glowered at Andrew. ¡°Are you saying that I look like an old man? That is a rude remark and an insult! I carry the wisdom of my teachers and the knowledge of many battles, something you could not understand unless you fought in battle yourself!¡± The samurai was fuming, his cheeks bright red as he appeared to be ready to strike Andrew.


    Sensing his animosity and realizing what he said was wrong, he put his hands up in a disarming pose of surrender, backing a step away from the angry warrior. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I didn¡¯t mean it as an insult, I was just surprised because you seem so mature and competent! It was a poorly phrased compliment, I swear!¡±


    Tora¡¯s expression softened slightly, his shoulders slowly sliding down as his anger subsided. Before he could speak again there came a whistle sound, and there at the edge of the pool was the doctor squatting down and holding a little yellow flag. He pointed to the ball drifting away in the water, letting the whistle fall out of his mouth and dangle from its strap. ¡°Alright guys, break it up. Penalty to Andrew, he dropped the ball. Find new partners and cool off you two.¡±


    Heeding the doctor¡¯s words, Andrew and Tora shared a look at one another that spoke of a slight sting to their fledgling relationship, yet didn¡¯t bear any animosity. Tora turned and waded through the pool with a contemplative look on his face while Andrew took a few steps towards the shallows until his chest was above the water. He let out a frustrated growl, annoyed with himself for upsetting someone as interesting and genuinely relaxing to talk to like Tora. He hoped that the samurai would talk to him again later and perhaps accept his apology for insulting him.

 Thats a Tank! PT3

    Long minutes passed as people in the pool shifted around, the games ending with the separated pairs seeking out new partners for the volleyball tossing social event. Andrew kept to himself due to nobody seeking him out as their partner, allowing him some time to lower himself into the water and see if he could float. The ball itself acted as a sort of life preserver for him, aiding him in keeping just his butt off of the pool floor as he waited for someone to approach him. He was considering letting go of the ball to test his independent buoyancy when someone approached him from his right, sitting down and sliding close to him.


    Andrew remained silent with his eyes kept ahead until he heard them clear their throat, at which point he looked over to find himself staring face to face with the huge muscular man from before: Antoine. He was wearing a huge grin, his bearded face being parted by slightly yellowed teeth with a glint of gold in his right side molars, and had rolled his sleeves up to reveal his bulging tattooed arms. ¡°Hello, my friend!¡± He declared in his flamboyantly French accent, waving a dripping wet hand in the air.


    Andrew didn¡¯t particularly want to interact with this man and hoped he would get the memo from his impassive glare to take his noisy self elsewhere, but the insistent man grabbed the ball from Andrew and hoisted it up, grinning and waving it over his head. ¡°Come on, it is time for the game! You cannot say no when you have no partner! Come, stand, let us talk and learn to know each other! I tell you it will be fun!¡±


    With a groan Andrew complied, not wanting to make an enemy of anyone else today. He stood and held out his hands as if to catch the ball, which surprisingly came to him in a gentle toss from the huge man. He caught it and looked up, and seeing the actual glint of glee in Antoine¡¯s eyes he sighed and passed the ball back as he spoke. ¡°You¡¯re Antoine, right?¡±


    The huge man caught the ball and sent it back in a heartbeat, sending it back in another playful arc towards his partner. ¡°You are correct, and your name is Andrew. It is a good name, the same as my old friend from home, though we called him Andr¨¦ or Andr¨¦s because he liked it. He was a rude bastard that lied and cheated, but the name is a good one, one made for strong men. Maybe you will become a strong man too, grow into the name, yes?¡± He winked at Andrew as he said this, grinning once more and scratching his beard.


    The gesture made Andrew a little uncomfortable, though he didn¡¯t let it bother him. ¡°Alright¡­ so when are you from?¡± He asked as he rubbed at his neck, then hastily added a simpler question. ¡°Or if it¡¯s not too rude, what sort of life did you live before getting here?¡±


    The question made Antoine laugh, and as Andrew tossed the ball he effortlessly caught it and rolled it up his arm as if showing off his rippling biceps. ¡°When? I did not keep track, but there was talk that there was a turn of the century happening soon. As for what I do, I am a highwayman of the seas, my friend. The king and queen take and take from the poor, so we steal from the king and queen. We would take all of their tea and rum, their coins and spice, and we would sell it all, use what we wanted, and live free from their chains. The only life, if you ask me, is a life where you can do with your money as you want.¡±


    ¡°So you were a pirate.¡± Andrew surmised, watching the face of the swarthy sailor for his reaction.


    The word made Antoine nod vigorously, bouncing the ball back with a happy hum. ¡°A funny word for free men, I say, but that is what we are called. How can you hate a man for wanting more from life than the chains around his hands and feet? How can you say he is evil for wanting to taste life as he wants? All I have ever wanted is to take back what was taken from me and to have a son someday like my father had before me. Ah, but such a life does not belong to me, it is defended by the Spaniards and British who want to put us on a rope.¡± He then made a gesture of something invisible in his hand being lowered around his neck, followed by him making a fake strangling sound.


    For some reason Antoine found his jovial attitude almost endearing, despite the poor impression he had of him from the start. He wondered if delving deeper into this man¡¯s actions might enlighten him further and make him more likable. ¡°Nobody is evil for wanting to live, but killing others to get money isn¡¯t exactly good. Same goes for stealing, you can¡¯t just take what you want. Everything you take hurts someone else.¡± The ball went back to Antoine, whose face was now a slight pout.


    ¡°You are not so fun, little Andrew. People are always hurt, and you cannot worry about their heads when you are hunted. Sometimes you must swing your blade before they can use theirs and save your own skin.¡± His statement was accompanied by him tossing the ball back a little less nicely, the impact hitting Andrew with a thump. ¡°If it does make you sleep at night, the crew of the Madam Violet did not kill mercilessly. After all, many of the crew were once merchants and sailors before, so why kill your old friends?¡±


    His nonchalant reply left Andrew both irritated and fascinated. He made good points, and knowing what he did about the time period he couldn¡¯t exactly hold one man accountable for all of the other vile things pirates of history had done, so perhaps whatever means his crew used weren¡¯t so bad compared to what he imagined. He didn¡¯t want to dwell on it and instead just chucked the ball back hastily. ¡°What did you even do on your crew, some kind of cook or watchman?¡±


    Antoine shrugged, tossing the volleyball around as he tried to put his thoughts into words. ¡°Eh¡­I don¡¯t know if I have a name for it. I did what the captain wanted. He would see something in the water and point to it yelling ¡°Antoine, go get that¡± and I would swim out for it. Barrels, bottles, boxes, anything that did not sink. Then once I had it they would pull me back with a rope, and I would give them the thing the captain wanted. When there was no plunder in the waves I would clean the cannons, haul the ropes, ready the timbers, just moving the big cargo. Oh, I think there was a word for it! Ah¡­ the strongman? Yes, I think that was it! I was the strongest man on the ship, and I could lift the cannons. Those beasts were heavy, but the captain would give me a bottle of the good bourbon for fixing the guns.¡± A smile crept over the bearded man¡¯s face as he reminisced about his recent past.


    As Antoine continued to toss the ball back and forth between his hands, the smaller man came to realize just who he was dealing with. This muscle bound brute wasn¡¯t entirely dumb, but his simple approach to life coupled with the fact he was basically just the brawniest of his crew didn¡¯t add much to his intellect. There wasn¡¯t much else for Andrew to consider besides his strangely carefree attitude. He decided to change the topic and return to the present rather than poke around at the pirate¡¯s past. ¡°That sounds¡­ nice, I guess. That also explains how you¡¯re so great at swimming as well. By the way, why did you drag me into the pool earlier? I¡¯m not mad or anything, I just-¡±


    He was cut off by Antoine tossing him the ball before scratching at his dark curly hair. ¡°Oh, that¡­I am sorry about that, I was perhaps too excited for the water. You looked afraid, so I thought I would show you that the water is not an enemy. I was not right, but you did not drown. I would offer you a drink as an apology if I had it, but no, I came here with nothing.¡± He sighed and shook his head, putting his hands on his hips for just a moment before shifting to a new emotional spectrum. ¡°I did not have my bag with me, which means no rum and no dried meats. Dry meats are smoky and salty, but they are still tasty. Then again, there is a place that gives you food here, quite tasty food, with fresh bread and roasted chicken that is hard to get on the ship. I love this food, but I wish they had more of the spices I know. Mmm¡­I could be happy with a crab curry, like mama made. What food do you like, little Andrew?¡±


    For such an odd man the question was oddly normal, and answering it took a few moments. ¡°You can just call me Andrew, you know. Also, I¡¯m more of a spicy meatball sub guy.¡± He then passed back to Antoine, though the muscular giant simply caught the ball with one hand and let it fall into the water as he began to turn towards the doctor on the ledge above him.


    ¡°I do not know what that is, but it sounds like a good choice. I am actually quite hungry now. Until later!¡± He abruptly gave a small wave before striding away, pulling himself out of the pool on a ladder as the water cascaded off of him noisily, drawing many eyes upon him as he strode up to the William to request some form of lunch break.


    This then left Andrew alone again, though instead of sitting idly with the ball like last time he chose to leave the water entirely due to how clammy his fingers had become. The shallowest end of the pool had a small staircase that led out onto the ledge above, and Andrew was keen on striding up the steps on his own. What he did not account for, however, was that much of his own weight was being carried by the water, and as he rode from the pool he felt the weight of his body pressing down on his wobbly joints once again. His hands went for the rail built in at the edge of the pool to help him, but even so he could only make it up to the second to last step before his legs would not budge. He grit his teeth and let out a soft curse as he strained to leave, forcing all of his muscles in his body to fight as hard as they could.


    Unfortunately, his strength had already been sapped by the chilly liquid and the open air, so before long he was forced to sink to his knees with a splash with his hands still gripping the rail tightly. He didn¡¯t want to think about how the others might be looking at him, this skinny and unsteady man struggling to climb out of a pool, so he simply kept his head down and waited for his energy to return to him. This was his limit, despite what his determination and desire to succeed told him. It was painful to admit it but acceptance was the only way to improve, at least that¡¯s what he told himself.


    Then suddenly, a warm hand touched his back right below his shoulder. He looked up abruptly, turning quickly to see who it was that touched him. It was the woman with the pink hair and the tattoo on her cheek who had touched him, and on her face was a look of concern. Andrew shifted to face her better, wondering what it was she wanted as she stood there silently. He eventually cleared his throat to speak, a dry feeling in his throat from his momentary despair. ¡°H-hi¡­ am I in your way?¡±


    The girl didn¡¯t answer right away, instead she looked at him again and blinked hard as her lips moved silently. Her voice was barely a whisper under her breath, so quiet that Andrew had to tilt his head and lean towards her to hear it. ¡°Do you need help?¡±


    After hearing her words Andrew nodded in confirmation to her request. She smiled at him after he did so, and by slipping an arm around his back and pulling his own arm as a sort of anchor she helped lift him up to his feet. She guided him out of the pool, stopped to grab his crutches from the floor, and took him over to the bleachers to sit him down and allow him to catch his breath. He panted from the exertion as he fought to vocalize again. ¡°Thank you, miss, that was very kind of you.¡±


    The lady stared at him with a soft expression, almost like a caring parent of sorts, then she went back towards the steps of the pool and reentered the water. Andrew watched as she moved off towards the deep end in order to rejoin a small group of girls, each of them talking to one another in hushed voices and not even bothering to do the silly game William had concocted. All the tired guy could do was sit there, watching everyone else socialize and discuss the nature of their impossible meeting from across space and time. He wasn¡¯t upset though, as he had spoken to two unique people he would never have spoken to in his regular life. That alone was enough to make him pause and contemplate how bizarre his situation really was.


    For the next thirty minutes he watched as everyone became acquainted with one another, or in some cases failed to make any sort of impressions. Antoine had somehow convinced the doctor that he was absolutely starving and needed food immediately, so shortly after leaving the water he was escorted to the cafeteria by the Trinas in order to stuff himself. Tora was approached by a few people, but shortly after speaking to him he would either intentionally drop the ball into the water to find a new partner, or would just walk away to allow the same result to happen during their toss. The pink haired woman continued to keep to her small group, whispering to them and looking nervous at every loud sound around her as she twitched and hid. As for the troublemaker from before who had failed in her assault upon the doctor, Andrew could only guess that she was being kept away from the others as she cooled down and probably reconsidered how easy things would be here.\


    Then a whistle sound rang out, and William gestured towards the doors with both hands.¡±Alright everyone, that will do for today¡¯s exercise. Today¡¯s activities are done, but I encourage you all to spend some time in the food court and socialize during your free time. Your assigned Trinas will be your escorts and guides, so please listen to all of their instructions. Your clothes will dry you and the fabric automatically, so please do not worry about changing or drying off.Everyone out of the pool in an orderly fashion, please.¡±


    As instructed, all of the patients shambled out of the pool and out of the doors, filing from the gym down the corridors, stopping and turning to go into their rooms or venturing down the hall towards the aforementioned cafeteria as they wished. Eventually everyone had vacated the large exercise room, save for Doctor William and Andrew. The doctor let out a tired sigh and turned towards the pool, pulling out a remote device and giving it a few presses. The balls and floating devices were swept away by a mechanical arm, emptying the pool before the lid slid back over and returned the room to a court that the doctor stared at with weary eyes. Andrew wondered what was going on behind those analytical eyes, and was tempted to make his presence known.


    Then, from the empty air beside the doctor¡¯s head came a shimmering glow: a flat circular disc with a bulbous protrusion of eyes and lenses appeared beside him, hovering silently as it lazily drifted next to him. William then began to speak, not to Andrew but to the little device next to him. ¡°Doctor William Thast, log four-four-eight-two. Patient batch number eighteen introduction activity¡­successful. No anomalies, no deaths, and the patients are getting along. Number seven-four attempted to attack me, minor subjugation device usage was made necessary, and she is now recovering in her room. I advise individual counseling, if available for once, to help remedy her outwardly hostile attitude. No other incidents to report. My current outlook: optimistic. I can see some promising recruits, especially numbers seven-seven and eight-zero, who like most promising pilots come from times of conflict. Some others are likely to reveal their latent skills, though at the moment the rehabilitation process is only just starting. On a final note, please send me some more Reginald series synthetics, as some patients have expressed their disdain for the Trina series again. End recording.¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    With that the silver disc began to fade out of existence, leaving the doctor alone. He sighed and straightened his lab coat, then he raised the remote and aimed it at the bleachers to put them away, only then noticing Andrew staring up at him with tired eyes. The two stared at one another for a moment, neither saying anything that would break the tension, until the doctor realized that the patient probably saw everything. He put the remote to his hip and pursed his lips, then staring at the somewhat clever man he decided to be direct. ¡°You saw all of that, didn¡¯t you.¡±


    Andrew saw no point in lying either and decided to be equally direct. ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°You know what I was doing, right?¡± William asked.


    ¡°Some kind of recording to give to your boss, right?¡± Andrew inquired.


    The doctor nodded, switching the remote to his other hand. ¡°Pretty much. You get that the drone was for record keeping and not some kind of secret plot, right?¡±


    ¡°Then why was it invisible?¡± Andrew shot back.


    William answered immediately, a slight bit of frustration seeping in his voice. ¡°Because after doing this for over sixty patients, I discovered that the drone was always a problem. If the drone is visible, they ask about the drone. If I show up without the drone later, they ask where it is. I have had to explain to both a Zulu warrior and a conquistador at the same time that the drone is not some kind of alien device or magic treasure. It¡¯s better for everyone if it stays invisible.¡±


    Andrew thought about it and realized that he would probably do the same in his shoes. He also realized that there was a lot in that report that he was wondering about, but he knew that he might only get one more question. One question was on his mind, and he hoped it would be one with a simple answer. ¡°Who do you give the recordings to?¡±


    The doctors groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath through his nostrils as he prepared his answer. ¡°My boss. I can¡¯t say his name or what division he¡¯s with, but just know he¡¯s way up the food chain of military command and can have my credentials erased if I screw with him. Just know that everything I told you about sending you back or putting you into civilian life is all sanctioned by him, and if it weren¡¯t for him you would all be dead right now. Just be thankful he exists and is keeping this project running.¡±


    There was a note of finality in Thast¡¯s voice that made Andrew move to stand up right away, putting his crutches under his arms and slowly shuffling towards the door. He left as the bleachers slid back into the wall from whence they came and as the doctor strode after him on his long legs, the two going down the hall in silence as the Trina assigned to Andrew joined their conga line. After a few bends and turns that Andrew instinctively followed he was back to his room, and upon his request the nurse android remained outside so he could rest in peace. He didn¡¯t want to socialize any more today, nor was he hungry after his exercise. All he wanted to do now was sit in his bed and think for a while until his head stopped running wild with assumptions.


    That was until his mind instinctively reached for his ¡®phone¡¯ as he usually did in his own time, only to have it magnetically leap into his hand with the futuristic lock screen staring at him in the face. He had yet to adjust to the self-propelled device¡¯s ability to be summoned, thus he yelped in surprise before letting out a tired groan at how silly he was for skipping that detail. Adjusting his grip upon the screen, he propped himself up and began to attempt to navigate the features that were available to him.


    His first instinct was to access a media page that would give him the news, but the moment he pressed it a message appeared to tell him that an administrative order prevented him from viewing current events. This annoyed Andrew, but after a moment he was able to rationalize it. Why would they trust anyone ripped out of the past with the new modern events? For all they knew these people could be future traitors who agreed with the alien-hating faction, and allowing them access to the news was as good as giving the enemy access. He shrugged it off and went searching for a different source of info.


    Camera, vitals monitor, menus, a Trina summoning button, a page exclusively for selecting the scent of soap dispensed by the in-room shower: none of these were especially interesting to Andrew, but some could be useful later. He kept scrolling and scrolling until he found one that looked like a book. Was it an app for accessing books? Pressing on it, his expectations were shattered when he was graced with a library of books all tagged as releases from his era. He smiled and began to flip through the collections, though he noticed very quickly that the collection felt small, almost painfully small. A scowl crossed his face when he checked the number, seeing that there were less than two thousand books from a span of one hundred years.


    Something was wrong, because the more he looked the more he realized that many of the greatest books and historical records were gone. Perhaps it was simply a limited collection, he thought to himself mere moments before seeing a differently colored tab than the rest. Clicking on it he found an archive titled Compiled History Version +21: A Time Traveler¡¯s History, 21st Century Edition. Curious, Andrew opened the file and began to skim over the table of content as his eyes widened. This book, no, this immense tome of knowledge was a history book starting from the year 2000 and ending a few years shy of the present at 3810. His heart raced as he began to hit the high notes for the next few hours.


    The more he read, the greater a sense of satisfaction and joy filled his heart as he saw how Humanity had progressed. The Mars landing, the Mars colony, light drives, portals, cloning, advanced bioengineering and even the first successful jump through time were all described in vivid detail. His chest swelled with pride as he looked into heroes of the twenty-fourth century planting the first flag of the United Cooperative Nations Pact on the surface of Venus from within their mechanical habitation suits. A twang of regret touched his heart knowing he didn¡¯t live to see these leaps for himself, and that they would have happened long after his death even if he had lived to be a hundred year old man.


    As he read on and dove between the pages, he began to see the darker side of history. The terraformer bombings, the warpgate scandal, the New Miami massacre, wars and skirmishes as mankind fought over everything their eyes were set upon. Every leap forward was one that met with a bloody trap that cut and scarred their history. It was dark and grisly, and each conflict kept rising and growing in scale until something happened in 3122. An event simply called the War of Madness, and the Brightest Night.


    Andrew had to reread the chapter twice to thoroughly grasp it, but once he did he put the phone down and took a long breath. As he had read it, the people of Earth and Mars were blamed for a terrible economic collapse that resulted in an entire colony starving to death. The other colonies, furious at their great mother planets, began a series of attacks that slaughtered trillions on both sides. Cities were flattened, countries turned to wastelands, entire cultures reduced to ashes, and the great progress of humanity came to a screeching halt as an experimental weapon removed starships from the equation. The great equalizer. The bomb to end all bombs.


    Tears welled up in the corners of the man¡¯s eyes as he tried to envision that. Hundreds of years of progress and racing to the stars, only to come crashing back down. He sniffled and wiped away his tears, feeling exhaustion creeping into his mind. He had to read just one more chapter, see how things had come back together, discover what sort of hope had brought about this future.


    To his dismay, it was not quite as easy as a unifying event. A century of isolation across the solar system caused by the fear that another bomb would erase their spaceships, all because the wreckage of their mighty fleets was blocking all communication. The corpses of their brethren were preventing hope from rekindling, and every surviving planetary or lunar nation was silently praying that the others weren¡¯t arming themselves to finish the war. It was an era of dread borne from a billion miles of death.


    Then the next chapter began, and Andrew¡¯s eyes widened. The reunification fleet. He giggled out loud without realizing it because of how absurd it was, but the colony of Ganymede had set out without substantial arms in order to deliver their missives by hand to their brethren. An armistice one hundred years late, but one that was accepted unanimously. Mankind, scared and beaten as it was, crawled out from the wreckage in order to reconcile for the sins of their parents. From there peace began to grow in the irradiated soil, slowly growing until all of the worlds were able to send out their own starships to clear the paths, to collect relics, and to bury the dead left to wither in the void.


    Exhaustion and true bittersweet emotions caused Andrew to sink down into the covers, his hands rubbing at his tired eyes while his mind absorbed all that he had read. He was a sucker for those underdog stories, where against all odds humanity is able to drag itself back up by the bootstraps. He sighed and set the phone back on the nightstand, reading the time on it to only be a little after noon. He vaguely considered going to the cafeteria to see some of the other patients, but just the small act of wading through the pool and hobbling around the halls had left him too worn down to entertain that idea.


    Resigning within the linens, his mind began to drift off into a world of starships and great battles, a far cry from these echoing hallways filled with robotic nannies. He¡¯d be free from there some day, once his body truly acted as though he were the one in charge of it and he could carry himself on his own two feet. For now though, he could only rest and sleep away the afternoon hours.


    _____


    The cafeteria. A large space with many tables and benches to be seated at for eating, with a view of a small courtyard of sorts with a single tree in the center surrounded by hedges. The aroma of simmering stew filled the air with its delicate hints of spices, beef, and hearty vegetable broth. Patients who had come here from the first day of rehab were gathered around at different tables eating their food, some engaging in small conversations or even sharing names.


    On the far side of the gathered people, sitting on the floor close to the window overlooking the courtyard, was the soft spoken samurai with his meal in hand. He had opted for a place where he could at least look upon some form of greenery as he partook of the foreign cuisine, the spoon they had given him in his grasp in a manner he was uncomfortable eating with. Regardless, he was attempting to enjoy these small comforts on his own as much as he could.


    His peace did not last as long as he would like due to a shadow looming over him from behind. Without even turning around he had determined who it was based entirely off of the deep breathing and heavy footsteps. ¡°Antoine.¡± Came from his lips in between bites, a simple acknowledgement that the pirate was there.


    Taking this greeting as an invitation, Antoine laughed and moved to sit beside the samurai, his face twisted into the same maniacal grin of a man without fear. ¡°You know my name! That is good, it makes greetings faster! One moment,¡± He paused, dropping his full weight down onto the floor whilst trying to prevent any spillage from his meal, ¡°there, we both sit together now. Now, can I know your name?¡± His voice carried an air of a demand rather than a request, as did his grin and body language that carried a hint of hostility.


    Tora took another bite of his food and chewed it until he swallowed, his eyes never leaving the scenery outside. ¡°Kitamori Tora.¡± His words were cold and harsh towards the Frenchman, as if he had carved them from stone and tossed them at the pirate.


    Antoine, ever the blind optimist, laughed and slammed his hand on Tora¡¯s back with a resounding smack. Some patients from the tables looked over to see what had happened, only to find the samurai staring straight ahead with Antaoine¡¯s hand making an indent into his patient gown with a splayed out hand. ¡°Tora! Tora, Tora! I like this name! It sounds like the word the Spaniards used for their big horn cows¡­ ah, bull! That was the word, bull! It is a funny word, and it sounds like your name! Ha ha!¡±


    Despite the jovial nature of the man next to him, Tora remained cold as he turned his gaze upon Antoine with a rising expression of animosity. ¡°Tora,¡± He began, his voice becoming darker as he brushed the pirate¡¯s arm off, ¡°Kitamori Tora. I am not a toro, nor am I a bull.¡± This statement was made with iron-clad conviction, a clear message to the invasive man that he should back off.


    Rather than do that, the pirate instead smiled and gulped down his stew, not stopping even to chew the chunks of beef or diced potatoes. He dropped the bowl off to the side after, residual broth dribbling down through his beard and from between his yellowed teeth. ¡°You are a funny man, I like that! Come, we should be friends, not enemies. You are strong, I can tell with one look at you. Fighting is in your blood, is it not?¡±


    Tora turned his attention away from the pirate, letting out a short huff as he went back to his meal. He didn¡¯t want to speak to Antoine for a number of reasons, and having the muscular, sweaty man leaning in close with his foul breath only added to the reasons he disliked him. His appetite was being ruined, and only a genuine reaction would get this buffoon to leave. ¡°I am a samurai, the bushido is a part of who I am. Now, if you please, I wish to eat alone.¡±


    Antoine blinked at him, not understanding what the words spoken to him meant. The translator in his head had made him hear the word ¡®bushido¡¯ and could understand what it meant as words, but the concept of a warrior¡¯s path eluded him. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be that way! We can be good friends, see this new world as brothers. It will be a great journey if you just¡­eh¡­¡± His words trailed off as Tora politely set his bowl aside, pushed himself up onto his feet, and collected his bowl again.


    ¡°I have told you that I wish to be alone. Please respect my wishes.¡± With that, Tora made his way out of the cafeteria and back to his waiting Trina that would escort him to his room to continue his meal.


    Antoine, after being left behind so abruptly, looked on with a lost expression for a moment before breaking out into laughter. He looked out of the window up at the clear blue sky overhead, a grin on his face as he spoke to himself openly. ¡°What a strange man! He must be like little Andrew, a shy man with little ideas in his head. Well,¡± He sighed, pushing himself to his feet in order to make his way back towards the food line, ¡°I suppose they will be better tomorrow. We can all be great friends. Or enemies. Or rivals! I have never had a rival before! Ha hah, this can be fun! I am loving the future!¡± He hollered, making those closest to him shy away in surprise and pain from his booming voice.


    Back in his room, Tora finished his food quietly and gave the bowl to Trina to be returned to the cafeteria. From his side table he retrieved a journal made from paper from his homeland, and turning to a blank page he began to detail all that he had encountered today. He completed his entry swiftly, set the journal back upon his side table, then using the remote given to him he summoned Trina from the hall.


    In a blur the synthetic nurse was within the room, her eyes locked on Tora as he sat on the floor with his legs crossed. ¡°Greetings Mister Kitamori, how may I assist you?¡± She chimed with a placid smile.


    The noble samurai stared at her for a moment, his mind racing from all of the cultural differences that had occurred at that moment, only for him to ignore those fleeting ideas in order to speak. ¡°Miss Trina, I have requests I would like to ask of you. The first: may I have incense so I might pray?¡±


    The semi-mechanical helper smiled wider, and after a moment gave him his answer. ¡°Yes, incense can be provided in a number of scents. However, there is a limit of ten sticks you may request at a time due to the concern of smoke inhalation and fire hazards. Is there more?¡±


    Tora paused and took a deep breath, his eyes glancing to the floor as he second guessed whether he should make his second request. ¡°Yes. I would like to make a second request. Is it within your¡­ permissions to allow me to visit another patient. The man named Andrew, I wished to offer him my personal apologies.¡±


    Trina¡¯s smile faded slightly as she shook her head slightly. ¡°I am sorry, but at this time Andrew is resting. Additionally, patients are advised to socialize outside of their rooms in order to promote interaction with others. Would you like me to deliver a message to Andrew for you?¡± Her head tilted to the side, yet her hair didn¡¯t seem to obey gravity and remained static on her head.


    Tora squinted at her as he saw this, but rather than question it he simply waved her offer away. ¡°There is no need,¡± He started, pushing himself up and moving for the sink on the wall, ¡°I will speak to him in person at a later time. Thank you, Miss Trina, the incense will be all that I require.¡±


    With a subtle bow the android departed, leaving Tora standing there alone with the mirror. He found himself looking back at his own impassive expression as he turned the sink on, steam rising up and clouding his reflection. Quickly, he bent over and splashed his own face with the hot water, took a towel to dry himself, and looking back at the mirror he found himself more saddened than before. His sorrow turned to anger as he stared at the face in the mirror, seeing the way his features contorted in the same manner his father¡¯s used to. From calm to sorrow, from sorrow to anger, and finally from anger to disgust, he couldn¡¯t bear to look at himself and turned away to find something, anything else to look at.

 Thats a Tank! PT4

    Hours later, as the clocks all sat a little past 3, Andrew woke up in his room with a joint-popping stretch and a deep yawn. His eyes adjusted as the lights of his room responded to him waking up, causing him to squint and hiss through his teeth in annoyance. After he got used to the glow of his clinical room he slid towards the edge of his bed, rubbing his face and letting out a deep sigh. His mind was still piecing together the day as it had been so far, all of the faces of people who were gathered from across the centuries. Pirates, samurai, greek gladiators, tribal warriors, maybe even modern soldiers and space marines, the kinds of people he¡¯d either met or might meet was dizzying.


    He pushed himself off the bed and let his legs take his body weight, his bare feet on the cold floor making him shiver slightly. The mirror on the wall managed to capture a full reflection of him, and he was forced to look at it as his legs adjusted. Short and messy red hair, sunken blue eyes, pale skin, thin limbs, and a miserable expression on his normally rosy cheeks and round face. This version of himself was like an inverse to his former chubby self, and he wasn¡¯t sure if he liked the guy who was looking back at him like that, with those dark eyes and grim scowl. It reminded him of years better left buried and forgotten.


    His mind began to wander in the dark parts left untouched when Trina entered the room, perhaps summoned by his awakening. ¡°Good afternoon, is there anything I can help you with?¡± She asked, as calm and forcibly cheerful as she always seemed to be.


    Andrew sniffed and ran his tongue over his lips, thinking on how to answer. ¡°Uh¡­ maybe some food, and a soda if you have anything. I¡¯d take diet soda too if you have it, but¡­ actually, I can just go to the cafeteria myself, right? There¡¯s not some specific time where it¡¯s open and closed, is it?¡± He inquired cautiously, watching Trina¡¯s eyes for any clue as to whether this humanoid robot was annoyed by his indecisiveness.


    Her response came easily after a moment to process his words. ¡°Of course,¡± she trilled, raising an index finger while closing her eyes like some kind of poster girl, ¡°the cafeteria is operational at all times, all seasons, and will cater to your every need! Disclaimer: some exotic or otherwise undocumented dishes will not be available without prior communications with a licensed food processor technician. Please see your local neural memory digitization specialist for details on recreating dishes from memory.¡±


    The corner of Andrew¡¯s eye twitched upon hearing that, both from intrigue that such a thing was possible and how cheerful Trina made it sound to have your brain scanned for recipes. He wasn¡¯t sure if the idea was awesome or disturbing. ¡°Cool, but I just wanted to know if you had normal stuff, like pizza, spaghetti, burgers and fries. Normal cafeteria food.¡± He explained with a tired voice.


    Trina nodded enthusiastically as he listed his preferred foods. ¡°Would you like anything else?¡± She asked in her chipper tone. ¡°I can have the food replicator produce one pizza, one plate of spaghetti, one burger, and a large basket of fries in less than fifteen minutes.¡±


    ¡°No, wait, that¡¯s not what I meant!¡± Andrew exclaimed whilst raising his hands to stop her. ¡°I just wanted one of those things, not all of them! There¡¯s no way I can eat all of that. Well¡­ okay, maybe I could, but it probably wouldn¡¯t be good for me.¡± He admitted this fact to himself more than to the nurse, remembering how big his appetite used to be.


    Trina ignored his comment, though offered a simple solution. ¡°Portion size decrease options are available, as is a sample plate with eight possible items you might enjoy. Our cafeteria will cater to your every need!¡±


    This alternative was amenable, and he couldn¡¯t help but agree with a nod. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s a lot better, but I still want to go there myself.¡± Inside his mind he was grumbling about how this supposedly synthetic droid was obviously programmed with specific phrases and reactions to what he said, but then again he wasn¡¯t surprised given how often that came up in science fiction from his time.


    With some effort on his part he was able to shuffle his way to the doorway where he rested his crutches, hooking them under his arms before going out into the hall. Following some vague, nearly invisible signs that gave directions to the various parts of the building patients were allowed to access, he managed to follow the twists and turns past inactive Trinas until he found the food court. For a place of eating, the entire room had a somewhat sterile atmosphere, feeling more like an operating room than a diner. The only thing to set this room apart was the fact the walls themselves were like screens, shifting colors so slowly but being just barely observable as they went from a cool violet to a smooth sapphire color.


    Andrew approached the counter on the main wall, and due to his own curiosity and arrogance struggled with the holographic UI rather than the simple meal buttons or the touchscreen they had provided. In his mind, he was in the future, and that meant using future tech was cool as can be. Trina acted as a guide and told him how to work the machine, eventually confirming with him that his order was being prepared and all he needed to do was sit and allow her to collect it once it was done. His rear end had just met the bench of the table when she magically reappeared next to him, a tray covered in picture perfect food in hand ready for his consumption. Futuristic technology was both impressive and slightly obnoxious, at least to Andrew.


    He ate his food slowly at first, taking small bites of his pasta to judge the flavor compared to the noodles he remembered making less than a week ago as he saw it. The flavor and texture was just right, and so was that of the pizza, the burger, the fries, the baked potato, the meatloaf, even the pudding he ordered after. He eventually felt full, only then realizing that he had eaten not only his first plate of food, but another three plates as well. Shame crept into his mind as he leaned over his empty trays. He had just gone overboard, and worse he had enjoyed it so much that he was subconsciously yearning for his drink to wash it down.


    ¡°Trina,¡± he started, taking in a deep breath as he prepared to make a request of her, ¡°could you keep me from binging like that again? Just lock me out of the food replicator if I go nuts like that, okay?¡±


    Trina, for the first time, frowned while lowering and shaking her head from left to right. ¡°I am sorry, but lockout protocols are not permitted to be set by a Trina unit. Additionally, Doctor Thast indicated that your dietary requirements were already measured and taken into account, therefore the machine already has a means of preventing you from overeating your caloric needs. I am not permitted to disclose this method due to direct orders from the doctor. Would you like me to contact him in order for you to direct your request directly to him?¡±


    Once again, the inexplicable motives of this doctor had made Andrew grit his teeth in annoyance, but at least to him this instance seemed to be for his own good. Despite that, he still felt like the doctor was nosier than he would like, and seemed to be doing things as if he always expected to be two steps ahead. ¡°No thanks, just tell him that he¡¯s cool or whatever.¡± He sighed and snatched up his drink, sipping on the ice-cold cola as he wondered how the doctor could possibly balance his caloric intake on soda of all things.


    Now that he had eaten well and was given an indeterminate amount of free time, he decided to wander over to the large window facing the big tree. He found a chair that wasn¡¯t bolted down or attached to anything larger and dragged it over so he could sit down and stare at the little piece of the outside world kept on the floor below. The world was so impossibly green to him, making him doubt the records he had read earlier. How could the world have been blanketed with nuclear fire, torn apart by an interplanetary war, and still have such vibrant plants? He wondered if they were fake, some kind of huge prop plant to make the patients feel at ease, but the tree shed leaves like any other, and birds from the roof were coming and going down to the branches to pick at little bugs living there. Fake or not, it was real enough to fool him at a glance, and somehow the thought of having a real tree did bring some comfort to his weary soul.


    Boredom soon began to probe at his mind, so to combat this he began to hum a song to himself, tapping out the rhythm on his crutches that were laid across his lap. He began to hum random notes at first, just hearing his own voice echo in his throat. Eventually he found a song through random chance, and in an instant he found himself singing one of the lines out loud. ¡°Do you remember¡­ the twenty-first night of september?¡± He chuckled out loud as he could hear the music in his head, the flashy music video playing in his mind in full detail.


    Then he heard someone humming along behind him, continuing where he left off in a soft, melodic hum of a woman. He looked back to see that this person was none other than the pink-haired lady from before, sitting at one of the tables with a bowl of exclusively blue gummy bears and humming the rest of the song. She didn¡¯t seem to be focused on Andrew at all, and just seemed fine with carrying on with the melody.


    Andrew politely waited for her to reach the conclusion, wherein she looked up at him with a smile on her face. He waved at her, glancing around to see if one of the Trinas was escorting her. ¡°Uh¡­ hello again. What are you doing here?¡±


    She answered by holding up one of her little blue bears, squishing it between her fingers twice before tossing it into her mouth. Her expression was difficult for him to read, but there was a muted smile and an emptiness in her hazel eyes that told him that she was not all there at the moment. He glanced up to the circular scar on her forehead, and in his mind the pieces slid together.


    He shifted in his seat to face her better, keeping a hand on his crutches to keep them from falling from his lap as he spoke to her. ¡°Hey, could you come a bit closer? I want to thank you for earlier, but I¡¯m-¡± He stopped as he saw her stand almost immediately, as if she were waiting for his invitation.


    She sat next to him with her bowl full of candy bears, eyes looking out the window as she continued to enjoy her snack. Eventually her eyes drifted over to meet him, and in her soft whisper of a voice she spoke to him. ¡°My name is Nikki. It¡¯s good to meet you.¡± She extended a hand towards him slowly in search of a handshake.


    Andrew accepted it and gave it as firm a grip as he could manage. ¡°I¡¯m Andrew, but you already heard that from Doctor Will.¡± His mouth curled into an uncomfortable smile while his eyebrows rolled upwards briefly, his breath escaping his nostrils as he went back to staring at the tree. He struggled to come up with anything to say, eventually deciding to thank her again. He was considering it when he looked back, only to stop when he saw her lips were moving before his.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°What year are you from, Andrew?¡± She whispered as another bear vanished.


    ¡°Year? Twenty-twenty-four. How about you?¡± He asked as he subconsciously crossed his hands.


    Nikki waited a moment with a confused look on her face, humming in thought. ¡°Twenty-one¡­thirty. I think,¡± she rubbed her head and blinked a few times, ¡°it¡¯s hard to remember.¡±


    Andrew didn¡¯t want to pry, but he felt as though her scar was a glaring clue as to why that would be the case. ¡°Does your memory problem have to do with your scar?¡±


    She nodded and touched the spot, quietly working through a trio of gummy treats as she formulated a response. ¡°Thast said I was shot there. He put me back together, but some things were broken. Little metal pieces were stuck there, cutting my brain. Lots of things were wrong: colors, smells, moving, thinking. Everything was wrong, but he helped fix it. I couldn¡¯t talk for a while, until he put a computer inside of my head. I had to learn to read and talk again, but it wasn¡¯t so bad. It¡¯s still a little hard, but I can manage it.¡± She holds out a few of her blue candies for Andrew, who takes them and begins chewing on the sour raspberry bears as she adds more to her tale. ¡°My memory is the part that is very bad. It¡¯s messy and mixed up, and I can¡¯t remember faces. I know voices though. I remember everyone¡¯s voice. I don¡¯t remember who did this to me, but I remember her voice. Telling you when or where I was shot is hard, but remembering the anger in her voice is so easy.¡±


    Nikki begins to stare out the window and up at the sky wistfully, her eyes faintly showing a glimmer of sorrow and pain. Andrew sees this, and he considers how to respond. He was never good at comforting people in ways that made them happy, but the very least he was capable of was empathizing with them. He cleared his throat and looked up with her, watching the birds on the rooftop flutter about as he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Nikki. That sounds like¡­it just sounds awful. I know anyone can say that and just say they understand, but I think I get it. I¡¯ve got these gaps and missing parts in my memory from how awfully my dad treated me. I know this might sound like I¡¯m comparing our situations, but I don¡¯t mean it that way. I just¡­ I know what it¡¯s like to have missing chunks in your memory, and even if it¡¯s not the same situation, I just want you to know that I have an idea of what you¡¯re going through. I really don¡¯t mean to downplay you, I-¡±


    Nikki stopped him by pushing a fistful of gummy bears into his chest, causing him to stop, observe what she was doing, and accept her offer with a confused look on his face. She was smiling slightly as the barest hint of moisture was seen in her eyes, taking in a deep breath as she responded in her soft voice. ¡°Your worrying makes you look silly.¡±


    Andrew closed his mouth and looked down at the gift he had received before letting out a soft laugh. ¡°Sorry. Worrying is part of how I talk.¡±


    She shook her head gently and went back to looking at the sky, her smile still on her face as she responded. ¡°It¡¯s a lot, but I did understand you. Thank you, Andrew. You being concerned for me is a nice thought.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± He asked, returning his eyes to the now-bickering avians outside.


    ¡°Because you are in a worse state than me. You¡¯re skinny and weak, but you care about my feelings. It means you have a big heart.¡± She answered as she set her nearly empty bowl on the bench.


    Andrew didn¡¯t respond to her remark about his physical state, but a smile still crept onto his face from her compliment. Something about being reminded that he could be a kind person made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. ¡°Thanks.¡± He finally managed to say, awkwardly keeping his eyes on the floor.


    A little bit of time passed where neither wanted to speak. Both of them were in their own heads, thinking on how to best continue talking. Both of them felt conflicted about leaving the conversation hanging like that, and eventually the both tried to speak at the same time.


    ¡°Hey-¡± Andrew began, stopping when he saw her lips move.


    ¡°Andrew-¡± Nikki tried to say, falling silent as she heard him speak.


    ¡°Oh, sorry, you go ahead. My bad.¡± He explained hastily as he wrung his hands together.


    Nikki smirked, a single soft laugh escaping her as she continued her thought. ¡°Okay. I was curious about your time, and where you were from.¡±


    ¡°Sure, I can tell you about that,¡± he exclaimed, clearing his throat as he adjusted his posture, ¡°is there anything specific you wanted me to tell you?¡±


    She shook her head, eyes becoming unfocused as she stared right through Andrew.


    Her stare made him slightly nervous, but he managed to speak regardless. ¡°Well¡­hmm, how do I describe Texas¡­ hot, dry, and always noisy. Highways, shopping centers, stadiums and apartment buildings, everywhere you went there was something making lots of noise. The weather was either steady and unforgiving heat, or it could be a coin toss between steamy rain or hail the size of baseballs. The people were¡­ people, doing their things and talking about politics way more than they should. Oh, and everyone and their grandma had a pickup truck. I¡¯m not kidding, they were everywhere. You were weird for not having one.¡±


    Nikki let out a soft chuckle as he recounted his past, closing her eyes as she tried to picture it. ¡°That sounds nice. Much better than my home.¡± Her expression then became full of remorse, tinged with pain.


    He gave her a moment to recover, then out of concern he scooted a little closer. ¡°You okay? You look pretty sad.¡±


    She sighed and looked down into her dwindling supply of snacks, drumming her fingers on the glass bowl they came in. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m okay. I just remembered a little about where I came from. Rubble, ruins, broken buildings that used to be¡­ Istanbul, I think it was called. I grew up after it was already broken, so I don¡¯t know what it looked like before, but I know it wasn¡¯t how it was after. Every day there was gunfire and bombs, with robots and drones blowing up everything that wasn¡¯t already in pieces. We had to leave when I was only a teenager because the fighting became bigger, angrier. From then it becomes memories of¡­ forests, hills, and a lake with a floating town on it. Quieter, but never safe from danger.¡±


    There is a long pause as Nikki stares down at the floor, giving Andrew enough time to formulate a response to her retelling. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that you grew up like that. I can¡¯t even imagine what that must have been like.¡±


    The pink haired woman sighed and shook her head softly upon hearing his sympathy. ¡°You don¡¯t have to feel that way. It was a rough upbringing, and even if I can¡¯t remember much of it I can tell that I am who I am now because of it. Besides, it wasn¡¯t as if my life was only misery. We had holidays, we celebrated birthdays, we could watch movies, play games, read books¡­ just because we had to build our own home didn¡¯t mean we had to abandon the things we cherished.¡±


    Andrew began to blush out of embarrassment, his mind¡¯s idea of everyone living in rickety shacks and scrap houses collapsing in on itself as she mentioned very modern things to enjoy. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s pretty awesome. I would have thought that getting electricity and plumbing set up on a brand new floating town would have been hard.¡±


    Nikki¡¯s expression became somewhat confused, furrowing her brow as she studied his face. ¡°Why would it be hard? Solar packs are so easy to build, and floating houses are common. It would only be hard if the rebellion had happened thirty years before¡­oh wait¡­¡± she trailed off, her expression changing as she realized why it was surprising to him ¡°sorry, it didn¡¯t truly sink in that-¡±


    Andrew cut her off, raising his hands to stop her while chuckling nervously. ¡°No, it¡¯s okay! I had that same problem myself. I was still thinking as if you were from my time. I guess the hundred year gap just didn¡¯t sink in yet.¡± He explained, trying to play it off with a laugh.


    Luckily for him she agreed, nodding along as she squished one of the gummies repeatedly. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s hard to keep it in mind at all times, especially when there are others here from very distant times. There is a girl I was swimming with today, Severina, she is from over two thousand years ago. Doctor Thast told her that she is one of the few people to come from before one-hundred AD. I think of her life and I imagine cottages and farms. But for you and some of the others it¡¯s tricky to think of your times any differently than my own, especially if they seem like they understand this place.¡±


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s quite a long time ago, and yeah, I have that same thing happen to me.¡± Andrew admits as he rubs the skin of his neck. ¡°If I imagine people from the past I usually think of rural living, or maybe towns or steam trains at best. If you ask me to think of what the lives of people in the future are like it¡¯s either the same that I already know or stuff like this hospital and the Trinas. It¡¯s difficult to think otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s something we¡¯ll both need to work on.¡± Nikki stated as she checked the time. She rose to her feet and walked over to Andrew, extending a hand to him with a smile on her face. ¡°I have to go now, it¡¯s time for my daily medication and brain scan. I¡¯ll see you later, Andrew, it was nice to really meet you this time.¡±


    Andrew smiled and accepted her handshake, which she was able to maneuver in such a way that he was pulled to his feet to shake it properly. He was surprised by how strong she was despite her relatively average build, but quickly reasoned that it was because he was as thin as a pencil and didn¡¯t have much mass. Smiling, he shook her hand properly, meeting her eyes and noticing the touch of green around her pupils, no longer hidden by the vacancy her stare once had. ¡°It was good to talk to you as well, Nikki. I hope we get to chat more later.¡±


    With that, the pink-haired woman with the bowl of blue gummy bears left with a smile, vanishing into the leftmost entrance to the cafeteria in just a few moments. Andrew felt lighter on his feet following their conversation, as if he had found something that grounded him in this strange facility. As he began to move down the halls on his crutches he became lost in thought, blindly following the Trina assigned to him as he thought about his conversation with Nikki. Despite knowing she was a bit further into the future than he was and that she likely had much better technology than him in her time, he had forgotten that because of how her body language and way of speaking mirrored his own. He felt as if he were talking to someone also from the twenty-first century, someone who he might bump into at that convention he had gone to.


    Andrew was so engrossed by his own realizations that he didn¡¯t notice that Trina didn¡¯t go into the room with him, instead standing beside the door as it slid closed behind him. He looked up as the door closed, realizing that someone else was in the room by his bed. Looming beside his bed was William, his hands busy controlling some form of mechanical arm descending from the ceiling and a large screen beside it. The doctor was physically straining to set the arm up above Andrew¡¯s bed muttering to himself until it finally let out a hiss and a click as it locked into place. Thast let out a subdued victorious cheer as he beheld his success, taking a step backwards before turning towards the chair by the wall. As he did so he caught a glimpse of Andrew out of his peripheral view, freezing in place before slowly straightening his attire and slicking his hair back.


    Will cleared his throat and spun on his heel, feigning surprise upon seeing Andrew. ¡°Ah, there he is! Man of the hour! Mister big appetite! How are you doing, buddy?¡±


    Letting out a deep breath, Andrew pinched his brow before answering the patronizing doctor. ¡°I¡¯m fine. What are you doing in my room?¡±


    Thast crossed his arms and made a soft huffing sound as he looked down at his patient. ¡°I¡¯m your doctor, which means I¡¯m here for medical reasons, obviously. If this were a social visit I would have left my coat and decorative stethoscope back in the lab, as well as brought you some kind of treat. No, I¡¯m here because some numbers on your biometric monitors are off and Trina was getting worried, so I¡¯m here to make sure that your brain is telling the right organs to do the right job. You can never be too careful with a brain transplant into a gene-cloned body, am I right?¡± William joked as he winked at Andrew, a devilish smirk on his face.


    Andrew rolled his eyes and hobbled forward, getting closer to the doctor so he could set his crutches aside and hop onto the bed. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just tell me to hop on the bed for whatever this is, skip the weird act? You don¡¯t need to talk to me like a child.¡±


    The doctor sighed and gave Andrew a reassuring pat on the arm and a look of understanding. ¡°I can if you want me to, but I just want you to feel at ease around me, that¡¯s all. I¡¯ve got so many patients who think I¡¯m a witch doctor, wizard, demon, or evil fairy that I could really do with someone who doesn¡¯t shy away from a tongue depressor of all things.¡± He then patted his hand on the pillow while inputting a command into the screen beside him, his eyes not leaving Andrew as he did either task. ¡°Now, could you do your good doctor a favor and lie your head down for the scanner? I promise you won¡¯t feel a thing.¡±


    Yielding to the doctor¡¯s request, Andrew laid his head down and kept his arms at his side, staring up at the heavy mechanical arm above him with its many strange lenses and lights. He squinted as it lowered down close to his body until he was forced to close his eyes due to the intensity of the light, gritting his teeth due to how he could still see it as a red spot in his eyelid. He felt the machine get so close that it prickled his arm hairs from the electricity the machine had built up and he could hear the whine of something inside of it. There was a ticking sound, a hum, then a pop, and Andrew felt a sudden tingling in his skin at the same moment that the light above his head flashed. Disoriented, dazed, and feeling a tickling sensation all over, he was forced by the sheer looming presence of the machine to stay still until whatever scan it was performing had come to an end.