Bright light, pain, the cosmos, a universe born.

I opened my eyes to the pitter patter of rain against my windowpane. My thoughts went to my sister, Nora. She must have been worried. I wondered if her supervisors at work were giving her grief for coming to see me. I wondered if she gave the hospital staff grief for having to wear the yellow jumpsuits. She was fiercely protective of her color schemes and fashion sense. I wondered if mom and dad flew all the way from Washington to check on me. Probably not. Mom wouldn't let something like the near death of her eldest child interfere with work.

The lights were dim and the door was closed. My only company being the beeping of the machines lining the wall. Dry mouth had taken hold of me again, but the short doctor had been nice enough to leave the water and cup on the stand beside the window. I reached for it, my arms shaking with the effort. I had to turn my entire body to get a better angle. Stretching my fingers, I nearly touched the pitcher before I fell from the bed.

Hitting the ground hard, a shock of pain rushed through my limbs. I had a moment of dizziness followed by a strange nothingness. The feeling of empty space, the feeling of a weightless void. I tried to quantify the sensation, but it was gone in an instant. Confused, I pushed off the ground and rose to my feet. Aside from tingling at the tips of my toes and fingers, I actually felt better. I stretched, the muscles in my back and arms popped. Even that came with a delicious liveliness.

Filled with energy, I wanted to run around the block. Instead I poured myself a cup of water and slaked my thirst. Cool. Soothing. I'd never been a heavy water drinker, I blame my dad for that, but for the first time I understood the appeal.

Brushing the curtain aside, I tried to glimpse the rain. Instead, the noonday sun beamed down on a collection of tall unfamiliar buildings. A bridge stood in the distance, but I couldn't place it.

"See, she is quite the handful." It was the tall doctor.

I spun around, surprised I hadn't heard him open the door. He'd lost the anti-contamination jumpsuit and replaced it with a long white lab coat. Beside him was an older gentleman wearing a suit and dark shades. The creases and folds of his face reminded me of those droopy dogs. A handheld Geiger counter rattled in in his hand.

"Curious," he droned. "She no longer shows any sign of abnormal radiation. What kind of decontamination treatments did you administer?"

"None, sir," the tall doctor said before slipping into a strange language I did not understand.

The older man seemed fluent, speaking in short hurried sentences.

"I have questions, Doctor..."

The tall doctor waved his hand dismissively. "Get back in the bed, Ms. Baccus."

"It's Dr. Baccus and, if you won't give me any answers, I need to speak with my patient advocate."

"Your what?" He seemed genuinely confused. "No. Back in the bed with you."

He came around the bed and threw out his arms. I fell backwards, hitting the bed in surprise. He didn't push me as much as his outstretched hands made me feel like I should fall. I stared at him, confused and shocked. The tall doctor grabbed my wrist, producing another syringe from his lab coat.

I struggled to take my hand from his vice-like grip, but he was too strong. I bucked as he leaned against me, pinning my body down. He snatched off the cap with his teeth, and spit it on the ground.

"Don't just stand there," he growled. "Help me."

"You said she could be dangerous," the old man whispered.

He jabbed me with the needle, pumping its contents into me. Darkness quickly nipped at the edges of my consciousness. The chemicals dragged me down into a drug induced sleep.

My heavy eyes weighed a ton, and when I finally worked them open I was still in that pastel room. A short woman stood beside my bed studying the machines and writing on her clipboard. Through blurry eyes, her features were nondescript and hard to place. She could have been western European, but she could have been American. Couldn't be sure. I was sure I'd seen her eyes before. She was the second doctor in the anti-contamination jumpsuit.

I tried to speak, but only managed a strained rasp. She turned with a matronly smile on her face.

"Don't try to talk, dear. You need your sleep."

"N... Nora."

"Nora. You often wake calling that name." she scribbled onto her pad. "Was Nora one of your coworkers at Jones-Eternal Labs?"

"No. Sh... she's my sister and my emergency contact."

"Your what?"

Despite the fuzziness of my thoughts, her confusion set off all kinds of alarm bells. I tried to sit up, but my arms were like spaghetti.

"My emergency contact."

After Nora had her motorcycle accident a few years ago, we both made sure our medical records listed the other as emergency contact. I even had her number in my phone under I.C.E., In Case of Emergency. What kind of hospital was this place? I was already planning to report the tall doctor, but it seemed the entire facility needed evaluation. I said as much.

"Calm down, dear," she said, no longer sounding motherly but patronizing. "Looks like you need another nap." She acquired a syringe of familiar liquid from her pocket.

"No. Wait... please."

I couldn't move my arms to stop her, could barely manage the words. My eyes burned with tears watching her inject my IV line.

"It's going to be okay. Just rest."

Her words came to me down a winding tunnel, echoing at odd intervals. Sleep slowly pulled at me, starting in my arm and covering me like a heavy blanket.

"No..."