Out of the Void

It was not long before I acclimatized. I drifted lazily, lost in the haze of the past few weeks. Bit by bit, wandering through the events that had transpired.

It was slow going, but I could feel my mind reconnecting with my body. It became apparent when my body was awake, or asleep, and my ability to track time was starting to improve.

I was feeling more energetic as well. Thoughts were coming faster and with more precision. Emotions rang through with far more clarity.

I was starting to see myself again. Feel myself again.

As my mind awakened, I did the only natural thing I could, and attempted to return to the world beyond. As I tried and failed, time and again, I came to see the consequences of my journey thus far. The last step into wakefulness continuing to elude.

It was during one of these failed missions, that word finally arrived from the outside world. I was not prepared for it's message.

As I readied myself for another attempt, an unfamiliar sensation began to sweep through me. An electrical hum, that poured into my awareness like a swarm of angry locusts. It grew until it was all I could feel. It ballooned beyond that, until my thoughts were but a whisper in the background. It grew and multiplied until it was all I that I was.

A singularity made of lightning and pain.

It took me in it's grip and refused to let go, squeezing until darkness descended.

When I finally awoke, it was to a familiar sight. Sethra was standing next to her workbench, idly working on another of her projects. I could barely contain my excitement.

It was over. It had all felt like a terrible dream, and it was finally over.

When I tried to speak and found I could not, I learned it was only just the beginning.

From what I could gather, all other senses but for sight were unavailable to me. Sound was nonexistent. Touch also gone. Even the view of the room remained unchanging. I was locked staring forward, unable to shift my eyes.

I sat there helplessly, for what seemed like hours, until Sethra finally turned towards me. She was speaking with someone just outside my view, and it seemed like she finally knew I was there.

She quickly turned and left, my eyes unable to follow. When she returned, there was a pad of paper in her grasp.

A quick glance in my direction, and she started scribbling on it's surface, holding the page up in front of me when complete.

"Hello Sweetie. " The pad held aloft in my view.

"There is much to discuss. To tell you. Please try to remain calm." She flipped the page after holding it up for me.

"I am sorry." she paused to add more. "Please, understand, we did the best we could despite the circumstances." She looked saddened as she marked down the next page.

"Your body has, despite out best efforts, effectively shut down. Your nervous system refuses to take input." She was visibly shaken, her shoulders heaving in disappointment.

I wanted to reach out, to hug her, let her know it would be okay. That it wasn't her fault. The privilege was not to be granted however.

"The technologies you've been exposed too, especially those that override your own movements, have damaged the link between your mind and body."

The magnitude of what she was saying spread through me like a winter chill. The meaning of the words before me almost too much to digest. I read them again and again, in the vain hope they would change.

"The Doctor says it may not be permanent, but it is best to seek alternative measures in the meantime."

There was hope. At least. Why did it still fell like I was being tossed into a pit?

"Your body is in stasis for now. We have created a bio-filter that should, at least, give you a fighting chance. It will however, take some time to do it's work."

She paused. Her hands shaking as she formulated her next thoughts.

"Until then, we have devised a fairly nominal way for you to interact with the world. It isn't much, but for now you should at least be able to see again. We are working on a system that will allow for senses beyond sight, but the tech is highly protected."

As the moments passed, her countenance began crumbling under the weight of it all.

"I'm so sorry. Sweetie. I'm sorry. I love you."

She barely held up the page before running off, covering her eyes as she finally gave in to the emotion of the situation.

As she fled, a stray tear flew off a fingertip, and onto the camera lens.

Into the Void

I awoke, not to my reflection, but to a reflection of myself.

It was but a moment before the room faded. An unwavering fog descended, dissolving the walls like a snowball in the sun. The thrumming of my heart; the sound of my breath; the tickle of the sheets on my toes; All fell silent in it's wake.

I am unsure how long I remained, blanketed in such a stillness. Time seemed to stretch and compress of it's own free will, dodging any attempt to latch on.

Sound was non-existent. A sense of touch or taste also terrifyingly absent.

Panic began to settle in as I combed my mind for perspective. What happened? Where was the familiar hold of gravity or my tongue against my teeth? The pulse of the veins in my neck? Even my sense of warmth; temperature; as though it had never existed to begin with.

Those familiar sensations that never quite disappear, even in sleep, eradicated.

I feared the worst. The most basic parts of my psyche already churned in preparation. Was I unconscious? Asleep? Comatose? Was I even alive? I faded in and out. Being, not being. Aware and unaware, fighting to find some sort of base line. My final moments wrapping back upon themselves, as if to offer up some hint to my destination.

What was in that needle and why was it not wearing off?

Deep within me, a growing despair was bubbling to life. I couldn't tell exactly, but it felt like some days had already passed. The plan was to wait it out, perhaps in the hope that I would regain consciousness, but I was unsure sure how much longer I could do so. I was growing weaker. I could tell. I had given up lying to myself about that much. I was almost used to the periods of nothing, of half nothing, but the prospect of remaining in such a state was beginning to overwhelm.

It was time. I had to do something soon or I would buckle under the strain.  Time for one final push before I tapped the mat.

For the first time in what appeared to be weeks, I forcibly calmed myself.  Stepping beyond the simulated tears and imagined anguish. They were useless. It all was. The rage, the sorrow, all of it.

It was time to ask some questions, without any of the chaff.

Methodically, I picked at the threads. What have I tried? What have I not? What was I missing?

I went down the list of my body's functions. Bit by bit, piece by tiny broken piece. I knew, there had to be a clue. As I went through the paces, I started to realize that much of my brains functioning was still in proper order. I could do math. I could spell. I could recite lines from movies. Each time I went through the checks and balances though, I felt like I was missing something. I could recall events. Information. Recipes and jokes. What was I overlooking?

And then it occurred to me. I wasn't picturing any of it. Everything was boiled down to it's bare components. It's concept. I knew what I should be picturing, but it did not appear in my minds eye.

When I decided to take the ability through it's paces, prodding at it's edges, I happened upon my second clue. It took some effort, but I could slowly picture things in finer detail. Hazy. Flickered. Like playing back a damaged tape. I could recall things I already knew, like my favorite place, or my Lover's face.

But creating something new was impossible. No matter the effort.

As I tried, I started to realize what had been done to me. The sleight of hand. The sleight of mind. Somehow, I had jumped tracks. The ability;  No, the want, to create new things, slid out from under me like a cheap parlor trick.

The realization started small. A trickle turned tidal. Waves of light dancing about me as I came to realize where I was. The horizon screamed to life, as thoughts erupted into images around me. Once the illusion was dispelled, it scattered like doves on the wind.

I was already lucid. The mechanism simply lacked my direct input.

Be it a dream, or otherwise, I was very much alive. I soared through the void, the last matryoshka, in hand.

Damage Control - Part 4

I guess it was there, in those fleeting moments, that I finally gave in and stopped fighting. What little that remained, fading with the sound of my Owner's heels.

I knew then, what was to be done. It was so simple.  I relaxed the rest of the day in my pod, drifting along with the time that passed by.  Once affirmed, it became all I was.

I returned the following day. And the next. And the day after that. Each morning stirring  a little earlier; and returning a little later. Eventually only returning home to sleep.

Now and then, shreds of my old self would flit in and out of my awareness. Old friends and recognizable faces sometimes sparking feelings of importance, or familiarity, but rarely ever forming into anything palpable. Every aspect of what I knew distilled into the most basic of  emotional responses.

Even when one of my Sisters found me, I could only hope she would find the same pleasure in the pod that inevitably awaited her.

As the days passed, it did not occur to me that I would be missed. Very little actually occurred to me anymore. Like a leaf on the breeze, I was subject to the whim of the moment. 

It was in one such moment, that I awoke to find myself securely fastened to the bed, with Mistress standing at it's side. I could hear a number of voices from outside the room as well.

"Ah. You are awake. This is good." Her tone was tired, and her eyes lacked their usual mischievious sparkle. "I was hoping to speak with you before you got on with your day. Busy busy." I simply nodded, unable to discern what was going on about me.

"Do you know what you are doing today?" her eyebrow slowing drifting upwards to add emphasis.

"I uh." I paused, not sure how to answer. "Standing in my pod?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed in mock surprise. "That's correct. Your pod." The sing song lilt would normally have sent shivers down my spine. "And since you like them so much, I decided to get you one of your very own for here at home."

The commotion; The dragging noises and banging from outside the room; it was all starting to make sense. As I peered towards the door at Sethra's words, it slowly creaked open. A young lady in glasses peered in, taking care not to disturb.

"Lady Sethra?" Her voice was soft, like an unsure breeze. "The power supply has been routed through the main. It's not the most elegant solution, but it should suffice."

"Excellent." Her tone lost it's edge for a moment. "And the time constraints we discussed? These have been addressed?"

"Certainly. The occupant.." she paused, trying to keep her eyes from sliding towards me. "The occupant can safely remain in the pod for a period of six months. Redundant systems allow for up to a seven day failure of direct power. To be honest, I am still not sure this will work to your satisfaction." her shoulders slumped forward as she trailed off.

"Your lack of confidence does your ability little justice Doctor." Sethra smiled as the girls cheeks reddened. The first and last smile I would see of the day. "In fact, I would gather this would be an ideal way of testing the capabilites of the system. Please route the controls through my central, and have one of your assistants prepare it for first use. No sense dragging this out. We've already taken up far too much of your time this morning."

As the Doctor nodded and left, Sethra's gaze fell upon me like a sledge.

"Sweetie." Her face was a cocktail of patience and disappointment. "Sweetie, Dear. You have been a very bad doll. Very. Naughty. Indeed." She tapped my forehead with her index finger as she enunciated each word.

As she did so, my eyes welled up. I sobbed at the thought of disappointing her and harder for not knowing how or why.

"Shhh." She leaned in and brushed a tear away in an attempt to quiet me. "It will be better soon. You can't see it now, but you will."

She leaned in, hugged me gently, and began untying my wrists. I just laid there, in a daze, half sobbing and doing my best to cooperate.

The Doctor soon arrived at my bed side, her assistants and supplies trailing behind. A winding, white, sterile comet, and I was ground zero.

The look of disdain on their faces, was enough to renew my weeping.

"Stop your whining. This shouldn't hurt." She laughed lightly when I followed the order, my whimpers subsiding for the time being.

"Simply remarkable. Dantelion certainly knows his neuro-chems. I'll give him that much." she mused to herself as she swabbed my arm.

"Please hold still." She shook her head and snickered again as my arm went limp.

It was all I could do to watch as she slid the syringe into my vein and slowly injected it's contents. It was not long before I could feel it's effects.

With every beat of my heart, my senses became more dulled, a growing gray void that swallowed everything in time with it's rhythm.

Damage Control - Part 3

My second day at the warehouse went fairly uneventfully. I would like to say, that I had plenty of time to think despite, but it would not be wholeheartedly honest. Once the pod initialized,  I was again lost to it's effects

Once settled, hours seemed to pass unhindered, and I came to realize there was very little I could do to fight what was happening.  Somehow, I simply accepted it.  I knew I should be concerned, but could find very little in the way of reasons to be concerned. They were just not there. The fog that cascaded down my body mirrored itself in my mind.

What little of me I held onto, kept calling back to me... to those first moments of wanting to become a doll. Echoing like a drum that threatened to silence everything. Is this what it was going to be like? What do those desires mean if I can no longer even put a name to them?

After a time, the pod slid open, and I slid home, a black hole in a human body.

The following day, I met Dantelion, Master of the House, and Owner of Damage. I was finally face to face with my captor, and unable to formulate something to say. I wanted to scream, or shout or something, but I couldn't.

The smile that crossed his lips said he knew as much, and his glance at the pod was enough to start me towards it.

Over the course of the day, he seemed more concerned with technical issues, than anything else. His concentration more on the system, than it's captives. I came to realize he had very little to be concerned about.

Midway through the day, I was asked if I understood how to use the pod I was in. If I knew how to issue it commands. As he ordered me about, it became apparent why his lack of concern was so pronounced. Like a twisted game of Simon Says, I blindly did as commanded as he prepared my future residence.

I am usually very well behaved, but this, this was a different creature altogether. My actions, though under my guidance, were no longer truly my own. I simply existed, in a warm state of semi-arousal, waiting for a command to be issued.

I was truly losing myself, and the shreds that were left, called out like a dying beast. In a final clamor of panic and fear, I did the only thing I could think of, and paged Mistress.  I needed help. I couldn't form it into words, but I knew she would see to it that I was okay.

Her arrival only made matters worse.

Unaware of what was happening to me, she simply enjoyed the view my pod provided, and told Dantelion to enjoy my company until I was needed next. I wanted so badly for her to take me away. To do something. Anything. Instead she simply smiled and left with a wave. It was there, in that fleeting moment, I saw what she was saying goodbye to.

I felt every particle of smoke that made up my next breath, and it smelled like limbo.

Continued in Part 4