Notes from the Future: Dreams of the Sleeping Porpoise, Part V

I'm in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines that beep. There are things stuck to me and tubes ... I check my junk, and no tubes there, thank the Gods. I am incredibly tired. Like drunk falling down a staircase of cars tired. It's actually a little hard to keep my eyes open.

I look for a button to push, to let someone know I'm awake or maybe, over there, on that chalkboard I could write a note. Notes about thinks. Thinks I've been having. Having a snooze is good now ...

A sound.

I'm awake. Fully. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, and ... where the hell am I? 

It looks like this hospital bed has been put in some kind of stone chamber, almost like old wine caves -- that's what it feels like, anyway. Cold. 

Throwing back the sheets, I see that I am in a hospital gown. Well, whoever the Dungeonmaster or -mistress is, Veronica tells me I have a cute butt. I'll make a point of dropping my keys, my  ...

Looking around, I see nothing of mine. No wallet, keys, glasses. Where does that stuff go in a hospital, anyway? Is it like jail, where they take your stuff until you're free? Am I in Hospital Jail? 

Slipping my legs over the right side of the bed, I see that there are slippers. Do Hospital Jails provide slippers? I slip my feet into them and they are cozy. I stand up. Something about this seems odd, out-of-place. 

Sound, again.

Was it? Was that a sound? Or was it just me? 

"Hey," I say, kind of quietly. It echoes a little in this small chamber. I see a switch on the wall to my right. I flip it. Lights come on over doors in the walls. In the wall. One curved wall, several doors in it. My bed is in a kind of niche, and there are ...

Nine. Nine identical doors. 

To my left a little is a chalkboard. I go over to it. There is writing on it and I turn it to see better. It says:

SOMETHING HASN'T HAPPENED YET.

That's my handwriting. Okay. I get it. I must have written that in my sleep. In those weird dreams. 

I'm sleepy again. Everything is heavy. I need to pee.

I go to the door on the far left. It will not open. I try the next one over, and the light goes out above the one on the far right. I head toward the one on the far right, try the door, and the light goes out over the second door. 

"What is this, a fucking puzzle? I don't have time for puzzles. I don't have time for puzzles, I need to pee!" That was loud, but when the echo fades, nothing has happened. I look for a grate in the floor, a drain, a bucket. There is a drain right in the center of the floor. Standing over it, I pull my hospital gown up and aside, peeing blissfully into this drain. I'm about three quarters done when I hear it.

Three knocks. Distinct. Then silence.

I shiver and a fresh jolt of pee splashes onto the floor near the drain; I adjust and strain my ears to hear anything else over the sound of pissing. 

Nothing. 

I realize I've been standing still, mouth-breathing with my gown pulled aside, for a few minutes. No more knocking. 

I drop my gown and head back toward the bed when an emphatic, panicked whisper starts up. I can't understand what it says at first, but cocking my head I follow the sound to a door just right of center, and I am able to catch the last thing said:

"... you have to get him. You have to get him! Listen to me! Get him, and bring him back!" It sounds just like Veronica.

She must be arguing with a nurse.

"Honey!" I call. "I'm right here, can you open the door?" 

No response, so I try the door. It opens. Standing with her back to me is Veronica. Max is not with her. She is looking at an abacus, an old typewriter and a large mirror which appears to be made of obsidian. 

I step into the room.

"Honey," I say. "Is everything okay? Who were you talking to?"

She doesn't turn to me.

The door closes behind me.

The lights go out.