The nurse found me awake, and was bright and chipper as she went through the room, drawing back curtains, making idle chatter, doing her rounds. I tried Appraisal on her, and saw this:

Name: Christina Velázquez

Race: Human

Class: Registered Nurse

Level: 1

I couldn’t tell if she was surprised to see me awake or by my healthy condition, or both. I opened and closed my Status while she was in the room, but she didn’t seem to notice. About 10-15 minutes later (I resisted the impulse to track it with my Journal), another nurse (Name: Jenna Johnson, Level: 1) rolled a cart in, and that’s when things started getting exciting.

After replacing my IV bag and checking my vitals, her face went from professional gentleness, to surprise, to genuine smiles, then furrowed brows. She checked my chart and my wrist band, and asked to confirm my name and birthday, to be sure.

Not long after, a doctor came in (Name: Ana Evertts, Class: General Surgeon, Level: 1), and went through the same process and cycled through the same facial expressions as the nurse, followed by checking my right arm and hand with deep concentration. She left saying even less than the nurse had.

I get it. I can’t really explain it, either. I played dumb the whole time, as they eventually wheeled me out to x-ray, and back again. Then to an MRI and back again. Then to a new room outside of the ICU. They also asked me to pee in a specimen cup, bend my arm, wrist, and leg a few different ways, and then checked my pupils and breathing a few more times. The first doctor came back at one point and wanted to lift my gown to "take a look at how your stitches were doing." It was a bit awkward when they couldn’t find them. Interestingly, everyone was considered Level: 1 by Appraisal, even those with senior-looking Classes/titles. I wonder if Level was applicable in this world? I didn’t feel so bad about my own level now.

I did get a chance to ask what happened and why I was here, to confirm I’d been in an auto accident of some kind Thursday morning. I’d been in surgery, then unconscious in the ICU for multiple days. Every single person mentioned how happy they were that I'd recovered. I must have been touch-and-go there for a while. While in the toilet filling my specimen cup, I’d had the opportunity to pull away sections of my gown and take a look at my body. No signs of stitches, scars, or bruising, except around the IV in my wrist. Maybe because the needle was still there?

I gathered that my lack of damage was causing some issues, but what could anyone do? Not much you can test for when someone heals too well or too fast. I overheard (and confirmed in my Journal) a couple of nurses or interns wondering in hushed tones if patients had been switched somehow, which I expect would be really problematic. The alternative was that the wrong notes were put in my chart, which I gathered was also pretty serious. I heard the word ‘miracle’ mentioned in even quieter tones, and had to stifle a sudden bout of the giggles. It was harder to stop than I expected. The doctors and nurses tried to keep a straight face in front of me, but I could tell they were struggling. Playing clueless seemed the only appropriate course of action, and I tried to play up feeling tired or sore as much as possible so they could feel better about it.

Finally, a full day of tests and exams later, a different doctor (Name: Jacob Watts, Class: General Physician, Level: 1) came by and said that I was healing so well (understatement) that they’d decided to discharge me. While they got the paperwork ready, they asked me if I was feeling up to talk with a police officer about my accident. I was a bit nervous, but saw no reason to decline – I didn’t recall much.

It took about 45 minutes, but an officer in uniform came in (Name: Jason Bornaghi, Class: Police Officer, Level: 1), and wrote down my story about being laid off, accosted by a contractor, and then falling into the street. I figured telling the truth about the incident was best, as multiple people probably saw it happen. I left off the part about why I was let go, as well as the bit about the gods (obviously). The officer asked what the other person was angry about, and I replied truthfully that I didn’t know. He wrote it all down, and thanked me for my time. He asked if I wanted to pursue any charges, and I paused before saying, no, emotions were high that day, and I believed it was dumb luck, an accident and not intentional. I asked if anyone else was hurt, and he said the delivery truck driver was treated at the scene, but he was okay. No one else had been involved. The officer wished me a speedy recovery (already happened, but thanks for the sentiment), and left.

A short time later my IV was removed, and I was given a plastic bag with my belongings. The nurse apologized, telling me that the clothes I’d been wearing had to be cut apart. They would be back with something I could wear until I made it home. I opened the bag despondently, then gasped as I saw not only the mangled state of my apparel, but also the huge blood stains all across them. I guess I’d be confused, too, if someone who arrived in this state was leaving without a scratch. I gingerly poked through the pockets, then shook the bag with increasing concern, and finally dumped everything out on the floor. My wallet, phone, and keys were missing.

✦ ✦ ✦

I was sitting in a wheelchair, wearing scrubs and holding the plastic bag containing the remains of my clothes and shoes, when I saw Kris enter the Hospital front doors. With her sort of curly orange hair, ample freckles, and sloping shoulders, Kris gave off a much younger impression than you'd expect. She maneuvered her way through the main doors, pausing to let a elderly couple by, moving aside to let a family past, then dodging an orderly with an empty wheelchair heading outside. It seemed like some kind of waltz just to make it through the vestibule and into the lobby.

I’d idly been watching Location to see if I could tell when Kris arrived, but it wasn’t that helpful. Of course. I shouldn’t complain, Swift Regeneration likely saved my life, otherwise I’d still be in my hospital bed. Or maybe the morgue. But I was feeling down about losing my stuff on top of my situation, and it seemed that everything that I’d received from the god, with the exception of Swift Regeneration, was about as immediately useful as a bible at a Buddhist temple.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Kris was here because 1) she had a spare key to my apartment, and 2) I called her from the hospital phone and she answered, and 3) she’s an awesome person and an amazing friend. I felt bad about pulling her away from work, as I know she spent long hours as a controller for a large clothing company. I thought about how to make it up to her. Then I remembered I was unemployed, and grimaced. I suppose I’d be in her debt for a bit.

"Mai!" Kris raised her hand and jogged over to where I sat with an orderly, only stopping once to allow a couple of chatting nurses pass. "How are you feeling? Are you still in a lot of pain?" Her misplaced sympathy made me sigh.

"No, I'm doing fine. Just thinking about the state of my clothes." I raised the plastic bag from my lap. "Thanks for coming to get me."

"Of course I'd come. Sorry it took so long, couldn't get away immediately." Kris gave some directions to the orderly to her car as we spoke, and we made our way out to the curb.

The wind was penetratingly cold outside, going right through the thin material of the scrubs I wore. Kris' recognizable 30 year old white Toyota Camry was parked in the loading zone next to the curb, hazards flashing. Kris opened the passenger door and the orderly helped me gingerly out of the chair and into the car. I felt a little sheepish for the assistance, as I felt perfectly fine, but I was keeping up the frail act for now. I thanked the orderly for their help, and buckled in while Kris went around to the driver's seat.

"So glad you're okay!" Kris said as we pulled out into the street in front of the hospital. "Are you sure you're not in any pain or anything? Should I take a back road in case we need to stop?" She eyed me sidelong as she drove.

"No, I'm really fine. The medication must be working, so I'm not feeling any pain at all," I half lied. "Wish I could see better, but that's about it for my complaints. Thanks again. Sorry I pulled you out of work."

"Saved me from another interminable planning meeting, so I should be thanking you for getting in an accident," she started to chuckle, before taking a breath, "except that would be horrible, sorry."

I laughed, "Really, I'm fine. Don't worry." Kris' appalled awkwardness struck me as funny somehow. Maybe it was the familiarity of it, the kindness mixed with tactless brutality, followed by realization and regret was just so Kris. It was a life preserver of normalcy in a sea of absurdity. I stifled my laughter as I saw Kris's face, a mix of embarrassment, indignation, and worry.

"Hey, now, it wasn't that awful, was it?" she pouted while navigating through surface streets toward the freeway.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm glad you're here."

A pause, while Kris turned into the freeway on ramp and merged into traffic. I watched the blurry traffic go by as I sat silently in the passenger seat. I was beginning to get a light headache from trying to focus without my contacts, but I should be fine until I get back home and get a new pair.

"What happened, anyway? You said you were in an accident?"

I took in a deep breath, and gave Kris the same outline I gave the police. Her eyes were wide as she drove, listening mostly in silence.

"Geez, Mai, what the heck."

"I know, right?" I hesitated, uncertain how to raise the next topic.

"Um, I don't know anything at my company right now, things are kinda tight… but I'll keep my ears open. If you need me to reach out to any of my contacts, let me know."

"That's appreciated, Kris. That could really help, I'll take you up on it."

"Hey, happy to," she grinned at me to reinforce the offer.

I licked my lips. "There's more." I looked down and laughed a little nervously. "Remember I said I was laid off? That's... not the whole story." I pressed on. "The truth is they fired me. For faking invoices and stealing from the company."

"What the fuck!" Kris didn't swear a lot. I knew it was because she worried about doing it at an inappropriate moment. Which, ironically, made her come off as stiff and stilted even more. Kris was a little awkward when it came to people. But I guess she nailed it this time.

"I didn't do it!" I looked over at her shocked face. That sounded trite even to my ears. "But they showed me the invoices. And that vendor seemed to think I was…" I trailed off. My heartbeat thumped in my ears.

Kris was quiet for a bit. She rubbed her face, and stared at the road. I struggled to think of more to add, but I couldn't think of anything – I was trapped in that moment all over again. With all that happened, the accident, the gods, the recovery in the hospital due to these new skills, all of it seemed like a hallucination or dream. But the look on Prema's face, the HR rep, Ben… those memories suddenly tangled me up, pulled me down like a nightmare I couldn't break free of. My throat felt thick and swollen, it was hard to breathe. I needed to say something, but I couldn't think of the words, couldn't get them out of my throat, couldn't get free.

Kris finally broke the silence. "I know you, Mai." Her voice was calm, even gentle. "You're too scrupulous to do something that stupid." She grinned as she looked over at me. "Remember when you painted that garage?" When we were in college, we took painting jobs over the summer. There was a gig to paint a house, and we came to find out there was an unattached garage on the lot. Our boss said to skip it, since we had only quoted for the house, but the language of the agreement said "property" not "building". I stayed and painted the garage, told the boss to take the paint out of my pay. I was young, stupid, and stubborn.

All the tension and fear that threatened to overwhelm me seconds before, popped like a soap bubble. "Yeah, well," I weakly tried to wave the atmosphere away, as if I could physically disperse the cloud around me. "Joke was on me, the customer demolished the garage later that month." I laughed ruefully at the recollection, but my hand was trembling in relief.

"Ha ha! Yeah." Kris looked at me, then back to the road. "But you don't cut corners. You do the job, the way you think is right." She smiled crookedly as she shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure what kind of mess you got yourself involved in, but you're no thief."

I blinked. Then I felt my eyes sting, and had to turn my face to the window.

Kris kept her face toward the road. I couldn't see her, but I heard the soft warmth in her tone. "Let's get you home. We'll figure the rest out later."

✦ ✦ ✦

You could say I lived both close and far from San Francisco, on the island of Alameda on the eastern side of the bay. It wasn't so far geographically, or by ferry during my commute, but driving required crossing a couple bridges, so it took some time. I was glad I didn't have to worry about picking up my car from the office.

Kris 'helped' me climb the stairs of the old Victorian home where my apartment was. I decided to keep up the infirm act a little longer, since I wasn't quite ready to explain the whole hero thing. I was happy and relieved enough that Kris believed me about not being a criminal. No need to have her start doubting my sanity instead.

"Do you have any food in the house?" Kris rooted around in the pockets of her puffy winter coat for the key, then inserted it into the lock. "Do you need me to pick up something for you?"

"I'll be…" fine, I was about to say, when a melodious voice rang out from the interior hallway of my apartment.

"Well met, again, Our Hero!" The god beamed at me, his silver hair shining in a halo of light.