A Good Commander

Chapter 1: The Red Overcoat Apparatus

The title is a reference to a song title! Can you guess what it is?

This is a story I randomly thought up in my head so the quality is not as good as my other works, but I hope you will stick around for the journey.

Would you kindly help me look out for errors? Thanks!

Enjoy!

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     I hear something. The voices are drowned but the methodical beep is sharp, almost stabbing into my brain.

     Opening my eyes is like welcoming needles into my retina.

     I couldn't do it.

     I lay there and listened. Eyes closed, ears perked.

     But the smell. It's the smell that got my attention now. Alcohol, iodine, and medicine. It didn't take long to know that I'm in a clinic. Or hospital. Both were bad news.

     How did I get here?

     I remembered laying on my sofa after a long day of work. Is this a dream?

     Someone took a step. It was loud, clear, and foreign.

     "It didn't work." A voice, feminine but firm said. "You said it would--"

     "I said probably!" Another voice, girlish but strong, retorted. She sounded desperate. "It must be a mistake--"

     "Look at the cardiogram. There's your truth."

     The sidebar rattled. It shook the bed as well. Someone had clutched it tight. Real tight.

     "W-What's going to happen to us when he wakes up? What are we going to tell the others?!"

     "If you don't keep your voice down, there won't be a chance."

     Who are these people? They don't sound familiar at all. Not relatives; I would know.

     Someone from work? Not that either. I don't have that many female colleagues.

     "Let's go. He'll wake up on his own."

     Footsteps slowly faded out of the room, followed by the slam of the door. They seemed unsatisfied, annoyed, and frustrated.

     I forced my eyes open, accustoming them to the brightness. The room is unfamiliar. Equipment not from this era. Futuristic. Complicated. My head throbbed as I studied each machine. I stopped myself before my skull caved itself.

     Sitting up was a strenuous feat. My heart was about to burst out of my chest but I bear with it.

     I looked to the side, seeing my face reflected against a mirror. That can't be me, right?

     As I moved, he moved.

     It is me!

     I'm fat! How?! No, fat was an understatement. Obese was more in tune with the image I was looking at. My fingers were like sausages with a belly visible underneath the hospital gown. It was bulging. Even my chin had pages of fat.

     What the hell is going on?!

     I kicked my legs off the bed, yanked whatever tubes and wires that were connected to my arms and chest, and hopped off.

     I fell hard on my knees. A body I'm not accustomed to. It's heavy. Encumbering. The world had been placed on my shoulders, and then some.

     My ears rang, and it didn't help as the machine let out a sharp drone. A flatline.