A Fragmentary Waking Moment
Sep. 4th, 2009 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_skyIt starts with a dull, fuzzy feeling, like you've been sleeping with your face in the pillow. Only... only not, because there's no pillow, and you don't remember going to sleep, and something hurts. But the hurting is far away, through a layer of something too thick to care about; it hasn't caught you yet, so that's all right.
Only it's not. That's when the light starts.
And the noise.
It's a niggling, squiggling noise at first, creaking and chittering at the top of hearing range like someone squeaking their finger over a just-washed plate. More than one plate, maybe, because it fades on your right and then you hear it on your left again. Doesn't matter. The light's too bright to see where it's coming from. Blinking's not helping.
No, wait, it is, the light's not as bad now. There's a little... there's a... there's something. Right in front of you, but you're just waking up and you have to rub-
Well, you have to rub your eyes clear of the stuff of sleep, only you can't, because you can't move your hands. And you can't lift your head, either, there's something in the way. You can blink a little harder, maybe, that's not a problem. It helps, some. It's getting a little clearer.
Is that green? It looks like green.
It is. There's green to the left (eek, squeak squeek go the weird little noises), and the right (more chittering in answer), and maybe right in front, and it looks like it's getting darker in the distance. Like there's a- a wall now. Or a ceiling? Are you lying on your back, is that it? No, there's pressure on your legs from below, you're sitting, more or less. Leaning back. Being forced to lean back, actually, because leaning forward isn't happening any more than moving your hands or your head.
Another blink. There's black in the green things now. Another blink. The black is...
The black is eyes. Those are faces. Not human faces, not the greenskins of the Wasteland, but faces, and they're looking at you and talking to one another in their high chittery squeaky voices in a language you don't know and could never understand, and there are silver things moving in from right and left and above, and they're...
... they're arms. Long, metallic arms, with the sort of attachments on the end that Andy the Mr. Handy had, back in the Vault. The kind Stanley used to joke with Dad about, saying he should train Andy as a backup surgeon, since he already had the tools for it.
One of the attachments starts spinning, and there's a nasty squelching sound right before you realize there's pain coming through the fuzzy feeling, bright and fresh and terrible.
At least it goes black after that.
Only it's not. That's when the light starts.
And the noise.
It's a niggling, squiggling noise at first, creaking and chittering at the top of hearing range like someone squeaking their finger over a just-washed plate. More than one plate, maybe, because it fades on your right and then you hear it on your left again. Doesn't matter. The light's too bright to see where it's coming from. Blinking's not helping.
No, wait, it is, the light's not as bad now. There's a little... there's a... there's something. Right in front of you, but you're just waking up and you have to rub-
Well, you have to rub your eyes clear of the stuff of sleep, only you can't, because you can't move your hands. And you can't lift your head, either, there's something in the way. You can blink a little harder, maybe, that's not a problem. It helps, some. It's getting a little clearer.
Is that green? It looks like green.
It is. There's green to the left (eek, squeak squeek go the weird little noises), and the right (more chittering in answer), and maybe right in front, and it looks like it's getting darker in the distance. Like there's a- a wall now. Or a ceiling? Are you lying on your back, is that it? No, there's pressure on your legs from below, you're sitting, more or less. Leaning back. Being forced to lean back, actually, because leaning forward isn't happening any more than moving your hands or your head.
Another blink. There's black in the green things now. Another blink. The black is...
The black is eyes. Those are faces. Not human faces, not the greenskins of the Wasteland, but faces, and they're looking at you and talking to one another in their high chittery squeaky voices in a language you don't know and could never understand, and there are silver things moving in from right and left and above, and they're...
... they're arms. Long, metallic arms, with the sort of attachments on the end that Andy the Mr. Handy had, back in the Vault. The kind Stanley used to joke with Dad about, saying he should train Andy as a backup surgeon, since he already had the tools for it.
One of the attachments starts spinning, and there's a nasty squelching sound right before you realize there's pain coming through the fuzzy feeling, bright and fresh and terrible.
At least it goes black after that.