The First

1.2

A/N: Welcome back to my second chapter! I hope you enjoyed the first and I wanted to get this one out to you a little sooner because I start school this coming week and I know I'll be pretty busy. Anyways, on to the chapter!

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01 - 14 - 2089

"...steady. Hovering around sixty-nine beats per minute."

"She's waking up. Continue to monitor vital signs."

The voices grow louder and clearer as my mind wakes up. I crack open my eyes to the familiar white light shining in my face and see the several faces that are blocking part of it. At first, they are just a bunch of blurry blobs, but I know that will wear off just as the nausea will. That includes most of the side effects from the anesthesia. I read all about it in a medical book that my teacher gave me.

As the faces become clearer, I distinguish Doctor Acosta and Barr among them. Barr smiles down at me as he always does when I come out of a procedure alive, while Doctor Acosta has her usual professional face on.

"How are you feeling?" Barr asks.

I yawn, long and hard. "Sleepy," I mumble, finding my tongue to be somewhat asleep when it doesn't quite cooperate. The word "sleepy" comes out more like "sheepy." I wiggle it in my mouth, remembering the strange sensation I always get in my stomach and mouth after I wake up.

"Vital signs are still normal," someone says from across the room. At their words, Doctor Acosta frowns. She glances down at the A-book in her hands and taps on the translucent screen. Then she studies me again.

"Any strange sensations, Gis?" She inquires, peering into my eyes like she can decipher the answer from them. Personally, I find that entertaining because I've learned how to hide my emotions behind a stone face if I want to. Not even Doctor Acosta can know what I'm thinking if I don't want her to.

"Just the usual. Blurry vision, sleepiness, stuff like that. Although, I am hungry. Is that normal?" I ask. Two of the nurses help me sit up while another pulls off the heart and brain monitors. I absently itch at the sticky residue left over by the monitors while they finish their checkup. They check my pupils, my hearing, my reflexes, and practically everything else.

"Yes, I think that's normal, Gis. You didn't eat breakfast, remember?" Barr reminds me. I notice a strand of dark hair sticking up from the rest of his hair and can't help but be reminded of my charcoal sticks. It looks quite similar.

"I think we're done for today. Mr. Mathews, please bring Gis back to her room. And make sure she gets her last meal for the day as well," Doctor Acosta says, her eyes focused on the A-book in her hands. She diligently writes her notes down on it without paying me any mind. She doesn't even bother to look up as Barr helps me off the table and walks me to the door.

"Wait," I say, pulling away from Barr at the door. "Doctor Acosta, can I have some more paper for my sketchbook? I--I'm almost out."

"Not now, Gis. I'm busy." Doctor Acosta waves me away with her hand, much to my annoyance. I reluctantly follow Barr out the door and back to my room. When we arrive, he types in the code for my room then steps aside to let me in as the door clicks open.

"I'll have an orderly bring your last meal soon," Barr says as the door slides shut. I watch through the small crack in the side until it disappears completely, leaving me separated from everything. There are no windows in my room either to the outside world or to the hallway. I'm completely isolated in here.

I trudge over to my bed and slump down on it. The mattress pad lets out a hiss of air, a noise that sounds like someone passing gas. I giggle, amused by the thought. And then I giggle some more at the thought of me laughing at my mattress. Something only I would do, I'm sure of it.

I stare up at the blank ceiling and the low, white light embedded in it. It's about as interesting as watching Doctor Acosta type on her A-book, but I really don't feel like drawing right now, which is my only other option.

Several thoughts keep pressing through my mind. Ones I can't ignore. Thoughts like: what's it like out there? Or, what is the meaning of life? I know there's so much more to the world than what I've seen. I've read about it. But my mind still yearns to be able to experience it for myself. I want to be able to touch, smell, hear, and see everything I've only read about in books. Of course, the director would never allow it. Believe me, I've tried. It's about as easy to convince the director of something as it is to get an interesting meal around this place.

Like I said, impossible.

I pull at a strand of my hair and separate it from the rest. After dividing it into eight strands, I start braiding it in the way that one of the orderlies taught me to. The meaningless task helps to pass the time while I wait for my food. But it only manages to entertain me for a short time before my mind drifts off to other things and I lose my concentration.

One time, I actually asked Doctor Acosta for an A-book of my own. Of course, she said no right away. But when I asked why, she said it was because they were for adults. Yet, if they were just for adults then how come I was able to learn all about them?

Well, there I go again, letting my mind drift off to the most random topics. But I think seeing Doctor Acosta's A-book brought it up. And A-books really are unique things. They are one of the top technological items of the year 2089 with holographic screens projecting in HD. They also have an eight bit processor and unlimited storage in the H-drive. Those things are almost indestructible.

"Food, Gis."

I look towards the door as a little slot opens up at the bottom and a silver tray slides in. My last meal. Well, my last meal for today. Not for forever.

I shimmy over to the tray just as the food slot slides closed. Then I pull it along behind me across the floor to my desk. Instead of sitting on the chair and using the desk, I place the tray on the chair and sit on the floor. For some reason, breaking up my routine makes life a lot more interesting. And I like to find little things like that so I don't go crazy.

The food is just as plain as always, to my usual disappointment. A plastic bowl of soup, a container of yellow peas, and a slice of red bread. Oh, and a cup of water. I don't get why I have to eat such monotone foods all the time, even though Doctor Acosta says it's good for me. As you can probably see, I don't always agree with her.

Once I'm done with my boring meal, I place it by my door and go back to sitting on my bed. I don't feel tired yet, but I know that no one will be visiting me anymore tonight, if my internal clock is accurate (which it is).

I drag my eyes over to my grey, canvas bag, wondering if drawing will help me sleep. Probably not; it will probably just keep me up longer. But I do have a new drawing I want to start on, and there's no better time than now. At least, that's what I always say.

So I drag myself over to my drawing utensils beneath the fluorescent light in my sterile room. A new masterpiece forms in my mind, ready to be transferred to a wall or a floor where it will come alive.

Once I start working on it, I end up staying awake for much longer than I intended. My mind tells me it's almost four in the morning before I even think to take a break. And when I finally do, I have to drag myself away from the corner of the room. I have to stop myself from just adding one more stroke, or one more line. I tell myself I can work on it more after I rest some. Even though I probably won't have time until after another day of tests.

I leave my drawing stuff out this time and plop down on my bed, letting my eyelids drift closed. Then I'm whisked away to my favorite world: the one where anything can happen. Where I can dream I'm not an experiment. Where I can dream that I'm normal.

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