Seventh 2 Survive (WAYHAUGHT)

1-81217820

She had never touched a tree. She had no idea what it might feel like against her skin. Rough or smooth, soft or hard, cold or warm. Would it have a smell? What would a world with trees be like? She had watched memory bubbles showing great forests on the planet's surface. And, vast settlements constructed from wood, now buried deep under the drift of sand.

"Have you taken the blue?" The person in the room spoke without turning to check.

Her attention was drawn to the towering wall of monitors. Science, in all its glory on display. Calculation, upon calculation scrolling at a speed too fast for her eyes, correcting, and adapting to get her to where she needed to go. She'd been in this room before, enough times to remember that sickly buzz in her stomach, and that edginess she got before doing something unpleasant, if only she could remember the precise details of what that unpleasant something was.

"Have you taken the blue yet?" the woman repeated, turning to look at her this time.

"How long have I got?"

The scientist checked one of the dancing screens. "I suggest you take it now."

She reached for the single pill resting on a small plastic tray. Warned not to chew, she swallowed it whole, watching as the woman began the final sequencing for her next journey. The sudden slump in energy caught her off-guard, legs wobbling, vision blurring, the woman's voice becoming all but a faint whisper somewhere in the distance, as though a world away, her movements losing co-ordination, slowing as though time was being stretched. She knew she had to keep her eyes open, focus on what she was about to do, where she was about to go.

Stay awake, stay awake, stay...

Another entered the room. No longer able to make her head turn to see who, the thud-thud of footsteps approaching from behind gave away their presence, hands on her, why were they touching her, escorting her to where she needed to stand. She put up no resistance. Why would she resist? She'd chosen to go. Her mind muffled, eyelids heavier and heavier, she willed herself to remain upright.

Stay awake, stay awake, stay...

"Weaver are you ready?"

Stay awake, stay awake, stay...

"Weaver are you ready?"

"I'm...I'm. Ready."

The embracell made a gurgling sound as it sealed her inside. The sudden pull on her legs sent excruciating pain through to her feet, locking her to the spot. Every muscle rattled, every bone raged at the indignity of being plucked from one moment in time and stitched into another. Breathing paused as the distance between new world and old narrowed, her world and a world which should have been long gone, threaded together momentarily.

A party of seven awaited her arrival. Those sent ahead to provide the necessary ground support, there to facilitate her function as a weaver without drawing attention to themselves, or veering from what had to be done. A welcoming committee of two watched the embracell cool and split, bowing their heads as their guest emerged. The others were upstairs, the house large enough, and remote enough for their purposes, nestled in the Scottish highlands, away from eagle eyes and tattling tongues.

Nausea hit as soon as she took her first steps. Whatever benefit the blue was meant to have given it hadn't helped. Bent over, retching repeatedly, a hand gently touched her back, simply to reassure, muscles tensing at the gesture. "A moment," she ordered. "Give me a moment."

"Of course," the voice replied, quickly removing their hand. "There is no need to rush."

She took in the air. Pungent, too much to process for her sensitive nostrils. A wave rushed from her stomach landing at her feet. An open flask offered, she grabbed for it, swigging the contents. Another pill, yellow this time, swallowed with another swig. Stay down, stay down, stay...