the machine.
Several yellow lights flickered on, a high pitched electrical whining drones in the capsule. A low static tingling dances into the electrodes. His nerves are hit and cause a warm spasm to spread to the extremities of this body. This builds up higher and higher until he is shaking, his teeth chattering with the humming resonant current.
The amber lights begin switching to green, blue sparks shoot from the capsule into the electrodes. His whole body locks seizing. Suddenly a threshold is crossed , the most intense burning shoots through his entire body.
He jaw is locked against screaming, his breath tries to vibrate his vocal cords, the static in the air crackles them into a cramping lock as well. This continues for an unknown amount of eternity. The pain wipes all such senses out of him. Pain, fear, and anger surge through the electron storm in his veins, dying as he knows he is dying.
His hatred grows, almost vengeful at himself. The lights shu tter off, and the pain finally cea s es . His whole body is sore, certain ends singed red. He gasps for air, eyes heavy with pain, and dry irriation.
An intercom flickers to life, “That was the first stage, very good. We will begin the second stage in 15 seconds.”
Nol considers leaving, but his window of escape closes before any of his rational faculties can be stabilized. It must be irrational, it must be emotion, his gut. He sees no other path forward .
The system whirrs back on, as it ramps up he manages enough air to scream as it begins again. The electricity forces the action to endless completion, the air forces out emptying his lung, and his scream spills out slowly dying out into weak wheezy nothing.
He feels h is heart race, and trip, smashing wildly in his chest. His vision blurs and fractures, rolling him in and out of the underground chasm.
The whole day goes on like this, at a certain point he passes out, and wakes up in a recovery room. An apparatus attached to his heart.
“Your heart failed,” A doctor said, “We kept you from slipping ,” they sneeze suddenly, “…slipping a way but you have to wear this pulse stabilizer to continue.”
He nodded weakly. T hey immediately returned him to the testing pod. He passively accepts the shocks through to the rest of the day. Several medical assistants help him towards his room at night. He limps trying poorly to make a joke.
General Berkant meets him at his room, in front of the door. His face had no illusions over what had taken place during the day. A n almost weary glaze shone over his dark eyes.
“Excellent work today Tomson,” He spoke in a measured tone, “You have tomorrow off for recovery, your tests have been deemed within acceptable ranges.” His voice slows and deepens rolling off the end.
He falls unconscious with his clo thing still on. Dreamlessly he wakes up, the clock indicates it’s the late afternoon, although the day is as meaningless here as in space.
He wanders the halls until he finds a service worker of some kind at a desk. He speaks with them, and learns of his entitled leave for the day. He gladly accepts, riding the elevator up to the surface.
He hits the surface, the sun’s brightness blinds him for a few moments, he blinks rapidly while wandering out into the street.
They let him go without any escort or paper work. The entire process has been almost completely absent of waivers or any agreements, paper or digital.
He doesn’t have an extreme objective in mind, simply glad to be away and to have his ionics connected to the outside worlds. Eventually he finds himself in a holocafe. Space station theme of some kind. Tiny floating stars and planets crash and float around each other in the space, the patrons clipping through the light holograms casually.
The menu has the standard Earth adaptation of space products, mankind’s products of the outer system (Although most of these are imported from as near as the Moon , if not just grown on Earth). He has the
Several yellow lights flickered on, a high pitched electrical whining drones in the capsule. A low static tingling dances into the electrodes. His nerves are hit and cause a warm spasm to spread to the extremities of this body. This builds up higher and higher until he is shaking, his teeth chattering with the humming resonant current.
The amber lights begin switching to green, blue sparks shoot from the capsule into the electrodes. His whole body locks seizing. Suddenly a threshold is crossed , the most intense burning shoots through his entire body.
He jaw is locked against screaming, his breath tries to vibrate his vocal cords, the static in the air crackles them into a cramping lock as well. This continues for an unknown amount of eternity. The pain wipes all such senses out of him. Pain, fear, and anger surge through the electron storm in his veins, dying as he knows he is dying.
His hatred grows, almost vengeful at himself. The lights shu tter off, and the pain finally cea s es . His whole body is sore, certain ends singed red. He gasps for air, eyes heavy with pain, and dry irriation.
An intercom flickers to life, “That was the first stage, very good. We will begin the second stage in 15 seconds.”
Nol considers leaving, but his window of escape closes before any of his rational faculties can be stabilized. It must be irrational, it must be emotion, his gut. He sees no other path forward .
The system whirrs back on, as it ramps up he manages enough air to scream as it begins again. The electricity forces the action to endless completion, the air forces out emptying his lung, and his scream spills out slowly dying out into weak wheezy nothing.
He feels h is heart race, and trip, smashing wildly in his chest. His vision blurs and fractures, rolling him in and out of the underground chasm.
The whole day goes on like this, at a certain point he passes out, and wakes up in a recovery room. An apparatus attached to his heart.
“Your heart failed,” A doctor said, “We kept you from slipping ,” they sneeze suddenly, “…slipping a way but you have to wear this pulse stabilizer to continue.”
He nodded weakly. T hey immediately returned him to the testing pod. He passively accepts the shocks through to the rest of the day. Several medical assistants help him towards his room at night. He limps trying poorly to make a joke.
General Berkant meets him at his room, in front of the door. His face had no illusions over what had taken place during the day. A n almost weary glaze shone over his dark eyes.
“Excellent work today Tomson,” He spoke in a measured tone, “You have tomorrow off for recovery, your tests have been deemed within acceptable ranges.” His voice slows and deepens rolling off the end.
He falls unconscious with his clo thing still on. Dreamlessly he wakes up, the clock indicates it’s the late afternoon, although the day is as meaningless here as in space.
He wanders the halls until he finds a service worker of some kind at a desk. He speaks with them, and learns of his entitled leave for the day. He gladly accepts, riding the elevator up to the surface.
He hits the surface, the sun’s brightness blinds him for a few moments, he blinks rapidly while wandering out into the street.
They let him go without any escort or paper work. The entire process has been almost completely absent of waivers or any agreements, paper or digital.
He doesn’t have an extreme objective in mind, simply glad to be away and to have his ionics connected to the outside worlds. Eventually he finds himself in a holocafe. Space station theme of some kind. Tiny floating stars and planets crash and float around each other in the space, the patrons clipping through the light holograms casually.
The menu has the standard Earth adaptation of space products, mankind’s products of the outer system (Although most of these are imported from as near as the Moon , if not just grown on Earth). He has the
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