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The woman reached for something on her throat and yanked it off. It was a flimsy piece of sticky plastic.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s just a translation device.”
She spoke with a lilting Scottish accent, and for some reason, that surprised me even more.
I backed as far into the corner as I could get, too terrified to do anything else.
The woman wasn’t big. She was small and might once have been beautiful. She wore a ragged shirt and jogging pants that were too short—even for her. It was cinched around the waist with a length of string.
“Who… Who are you?” I said.
“My name’s Maisie. You’ve just woken up from a long sleep.”
“Where are my friends?”
“They’ve already been delivered.”
“Delivered?” I said. “Delivered where?”
“To their new masters.”
Masters? Delivered? This was not a normal conversation.
Maisie checked over her shoulder. “You should get back in your pod. This shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t be awake yet.”
“My pod? No. I’m not getting back in there.”
“You have to. If you don’t, they’ll catch you and make you.”
“They? Who are they?”
Maisie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter who they are. Oh dear, oh dear. This isn’t good at all. You need to go back to sleep so your master can give you a purpose.”
“Purpose?” I said, fear seizing my throat. “I already have a purpose back home! I need to go home. Now.”
“You can’t ever go back home,” Maisie said. “Not without your master’s permission.”
This lady was off her rocker if she thought I would willingly get back in that pod. And yet, Maisie might just be the only reliable source of information I would get in this place.
“How long have I been asleep?” I said.
“Not long. About three weeks. You need to go back to sleep…”
Three weeks?
It wasn’t possible. I was locked in my head in a coma somewhere. This Maisie was some sort of internal projection, that’s all. Maybe one of the nurses taking care of me in the hospital. Or someone I passed on the street one time.
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“It’s the truth,” Maisie said.
“I have to go,” I said, pushing myself up onto my feet. “I have to leave. I can’t stay here.”
Maisie waved her hands. “You don’t have a choice. If they find you, they’ll hurt you.”
“This isn’t real,” I said. “I’m trapped in some kind of nightmare.”
But how could I prove it?
