text: The heart monitor beeped steadily, the mountains and valleys of a heartbeat painting a line of life. Overhead, an AC hummed as it pumped filtered air into the room. A door slid open with a whoosh and a nurse entered. She walked to the bed, compared her charts to the machines standing guard and made a few notes. As she leaned down to check on the drainage bag, the patient stirred. She paused, staring at the sleeping man, his chest rising and falling with the machines, his mouth closed around the tube keeping him alive. He stirred again and she straightened, checking the machines, then her charts again. When he stirred a third time, she called for the doctor. Patient 13705, known to his friends and family as Jesse O’Hian, had been in a coma for three years, 7 months, 23 days. The doctors at St. Mary had given him a 1 in 3.7 million chance of waking up. As the team rushed into his room and gathered around his bed, Patient 13705 struck his chance. Dr. Glascow was the first thing he saw. The old man’s weathered face smiled at him like a welcoming angel. There was a ringing in Jesse’s ear that sounded like the brakes of the 6 o’clock train. His lips were stretched and dry and something tickled the back of his throat. “Good morning Mr. O’Hian,” Dr. Glascow was saying, his voice fighting against the ringing in Jesse’s ear. “Absolutely lovely to see you today. You’ve got a breathing tube in, so be careful. We’ll have that out in a bit, we’ve just got to make sure you can breathe on your own.” Jesse looked down as far as he could to see the blue and white tube snaking across his chest to one of the machines standing next to his bed. It reminded him of a worm, like the ones he would use when he would go fishing. Dr. Glascow ran him through a series of tests. Satisfied, he ordered the nurse to shut off the breath machine. The switch was flipped, and Jesse felt his chest go flat. There was a sudden rush of panic and then he took a deep breath, his lungs straining with the effort. The air was cool, and it tingled, unlike the stale, warm air from the machine. The nurse hovered over Jesse. “Now then, just relax. You’ll feel a gagging sensation as I pull this out. Just try and ignore that.” She smiled at him, grasped the breathing tube with her gloved hands and in one swift motion, pulled the tube from his throat. He gagged as the plastic slid over his tongue, leaving a chemical taste behind. The empty space in his mouth felt foreign as he worked his jaw up and down. Dr. Glascow and Ms. Hyatt continued running through their checklist, removing tubes and needles from his body. As each one left his body, he became more and more aware of himself. His limbs were heavy and felt far away, as if they were connected through wires over some great distance. He stared at them, trying to close the gap with his mind. “Are you aware of what day it is?” Dr. Glascow was asking. Jesse shook his head, the motion like a rocking wave. The room swam around him and he squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s the 10th of June, 2046. A beautiful day, I might add. We’ve been having such good weather lately.” The doctor smiled at him, a row of white tombstone-like teeth showing between his lips. “Now, now, don’t get too worked up.” The doctor put his hand on Jesse’s arm. It was warm, and brought a sudden close awareness of the space between Jesse and his arm. “See, you’ve been in a coma for the past three years,” the doctor continued. “It’s quite normal to experience some confusion after waking up. Much has changed since your accident! Do you remember the accident? Nevermind, that will come in time.” Jesse watched him get up and look over the charts Ms. Hyatt handed him. “We’ll monitor you for the next 48 hours, and if you’re doing well, you’ll be released! I’ll be sure to notify your ICE contact and let them know you’re awake.” There was a flurry of motion as doctor and nurse got Jesse comfortable, explained the catheter use and showed him how to order meals if he felt so inclined. When the room was finally quiet again, Jesse stared at the ceiling, finding shapes in the speckled ceiling. Shapes and voices spun in his head, a spiral of sounds and colors that made no sense. Occasionally, he saw someone’s face in striking clarity, or heard a distinct voice. He recognized none of it. In the midst of all this was a slow, distorted voice, singing a single line over and over: “Nobody knows, the trouble I’ve seen...” + + + + + + + + + + The sunlight glared down on Jesse as his wheelchair left the hospital. He threw a hand up to shade his eyes. A pair of long legs walked over to him, sultry and tan. His eyes travelled up to find the legs attached to a woman with dark sunglasses and an even darker frown. Even behind the glasses, her gaze struck him. “Has he got anything else?” the woman asked, looking at the nurse pushing Jesse’s wheelchair. “No ma’am. There were no personal effects other than what he has on him.” The nurse indicated the bag Jesse held. “I trust you can take it from here?” The woman jerked her head towards a red car parked on the curb. “Help him in the passenger side.” With the nurse’s help, Jesse made his way into the front seat of the car. It smelled of oiled leather and pine. The seatbelt clicked into place as the door shut and for a brief moment, he was alone in the stillness. Shortly after, the woman got in the car, started the engine, and pulled away from the hospital. “Did they tell you anything?” she asked, settling back as the car went into auto-drive. Jesse shook his head slowly. “There was an accident.” His tongue still felt clumsy and awkward after three years of disuse. The woman made a noise in her throat. “Nothing else? Well, that’s unfortunate.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m Cara, your cousin. My father was your Uncle. You’ve got an apartment in the Apotho District.” She cleared her throat. “How do you feel, Jesse?” He frowned. “I don’t know. How should I feel?” Cara made a face like she was frustrated. “I mean, do you feel anything? At all? Emotionally, that is.” Jesse thought for a moment. “At times, yes. It’s very...confusing right now. I’m not sure what’s what.” His cousin nodded. “That’s good,” she mused. “Should I be feeling something?” Cara turned in her seat to face him. “A lot’s changed since your accident, Jesse.” “The doctor said the same thing.” He moved to face her more, the leather seats creaking beneath him. “What does that mean?” “Do you remember anything, Jesse? From before your accident? Anything at all?” He shrugged. “I think so. I get flashes of faces, voices, colors, sounds...it’s overwhelming.” The car slowed to a stop at a light. They watched the pedestrians pass, their faces all relaxed. No one was in a hurry, there were no horns blaring, no one yelling for someone else to move. Jesse frowned. “It’s too quiet,” he murmured. Cara let out a small sigh. “You’d better get used to it. It’s like this everywhere now.” “What happened?” “They made us all equal.” Jesse stared as the car proceeded through the intersection. “Equal. What does that mean?” His cousin gestured to the people walking the sidewalks. “We’re all the same now. The playing field has been leveled, for everyone. From the moment we’re born, we all have the same level of skill as everyone else. No one is smarter or faster or better than anyone else.” “How?” was all Jesse could ask. Cara shrugged. “No one knows the exact science behind it. There’s an additive to the air we breathe that alters our chemical makeup to balance us out, to make us all the same. Things have been better since then.” Jesse snorted, an unfamiliar feeling. “How is that better?” “Oh, that’s just the coma talking.” Cara chuckled. “Just give it a few days and you’ll see. The technological and societal advances we’ve made since the additive has made things much easier. No more poverty, no more greed, no more war. You’ll see, Jesse. You’ll see.” + + + + + + + + + + If you’d like to read part two, you can find it at the link in my profile.