Plock

"We are all set, shrtshtshrt. You know the drill, count from ten to zero. I'll get you on the other side," the anesthesiologist said.

Sighing, the young man nodded. He had been through this several dozen times before, but it never got any easier. He counted down, and the world went dark.

Plock

The ripples of a dripping drop echoed in the youth's disturbingly fuzzy mind. Isn't that a bit too loud? he thought. I'm sure it's not supposed to be that loud. Please turn it down. But the drop kept echoing, each strand of resonance growing louder. And now, as if the deafening sound wasn't sufficient, his body felt like tumbling as if it were some kind of t-shirt in a washing machine, adding to his disorientation. I should be afraid, right? he asked himself. I...

Plock

The youth opened his eyes, woken up by some water dripping on his forehead. His thoughts were muddied and his body felt like it was made of lead. Even his eyes had difficulty focusing. Where am I? he wondered. Beyond dark gold and silver leaves, he could see the ceiling was dark and fuzzy, striped with darker undulating shadows. He frowned with some difficulty. I'm in a cave? With some tree inside? he thought. No, that's not right. I'm in a room, a hospital room, right? Suddenly he felt as if he was suffocating. Panic rose in his chest, before he suddenly remembered to breathe, drawing in the musty tang of dirt and rotten wood. His lungs deployed with some difficulty, and he coughed, sending his body into a fit of spasms.

Breathing regularly took an ungodly amount of effort and concentration, and along with it came the sensation of his body back. Slowly, so very slowly, he reconnected with his senses, through the noise of billions of ants crawling in his own body. He was lying on the back, apparently clothed in some robe, coarser than the familiar hospital gown. He managed to move his fingers. Just like the rest of his body, they felt heavy and slow, but with enough effort, he regained some measure of control.

Where am I? he thought again. What happened? He tried to remember, but his mind was still too fuzzy. He remembered the hospital, the anesthesiologist, the operation, but after that... nothing. He was lying on some stone bed, in a dark room, with a dripping ceiling. His hand could now trace the outline of the bed, and he could feel the rough cold stone under his back and a little pool of water slowly gaining territory along his back. There isn't any bed made out of rock in any hospital I know of...

He didn't feel like trying to stand up right now, so he just lay there and instead turned his head around, slowly as it was still both difficult to move and to focus. The room was dark, with walls covered in some kind of leafy vines that had reached the ceiling and had made a decent job at colonizing it. Some flickering blue light was coming from several spots on the wall but he couldn't quite distinguish exactly what it was. The ceiling, where it wasn't covered by the dark vines, didn't invite too much confidence as it was cracked. The dripping water was coming from a few of them. He shuddered at the thought of it collapsing on him.

He felt his blood coming back to his limbs chasing away the ankylosis. He frowned again, disturbed by the feedback. With some effort, he dragged both his hands toward his abdomen, where a dozen spots of pain usually lay, but he couldn't find any. His frown intensified as his memory kicked in. His accident five years ago had left him with a dozen scars, bone fragments everywhere, and in constant pain from both the fragments and the wrecked nerves. Yet now, he couldn't feel any of it. What happened? he thought again. Did the operation work?

That would have been unexpected. He couldn't make sense of anything happening right now, but a flicker of something appeared in his mind. His legs felt distant, how so distant. But present nonetheless. "Oh boy," he gasped, his voice so rough he coughed right afterward. It sent his body into some sort of panic for a moment, but everything came back under control quickly enough. I can feel my legs! he thought. And realization settled in. I can feel my legs! He tried to move them, but they were still too heavy. He tried to move his toes, but they were still too numb. I can feel my legs! He felt so excited he almost forgot to breathe again, his inner self was running around in circles, screaming in joy. I can feel my legs!

I don't care where I am anymore, I can feel my legs!

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It took him some time, to reign himself in again. But soon enough he was sufficiently confident to attempt to sit. Pushing on his arms, flexing his brand-new abdomen and shiny legs he pushed himself to the side, and then in a sitting position. He felt like he had just run a marathon, but he was sitting! And then he heard his stomach rumbling. I'm hungry. And parched!

He pushed his renewed excitation aside, there were important problems to take care of. But he couldn't help himself and lifted his robe with some difficulty. His robe was off-white, probably as he couldn't be sure due to the blue candle-things on the wall, and made of some plain cloth. It seemed sturdy enough, and if it weren't already wet, he guessed it would protect him well against the cold. Beneath, he was stark naked, but he didn't care. He stared at his legs. "So lean," he wondered aloud. Their shape was perfect, but skinny, without any meat on them. With a finger, he traced the outline of his thigh, and then his calf. Excitation rose a notch as he could feel his finger! He barely noticed the absence of any scars, nor the state of his hands and arms, but his stomach got him back on track, and left his robe alone to look around.

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A few meters in front of him was a wall, completely covered in vines, from which three lamps of some kind emerged. They shone in a bright azure light, flickering to the whims of an absent wind. The light was sufficient to see the rest of the room, albeit tinted in blue. The room was squarish and about ten meters wide. The ceiling was about three meters high and broken in several places, one of which wasn't that far from his current resting place. A strange tree had grown barely a meter from where his head had been lying before. It was about two meters high, with a trunk about twenty centimeters in diameter. It was covered in dark gold and silver leaves. The tree was growing from a mound of moss. Its roots were spreading in all directions, some of them even competting with the vines on the wall. He could even spot a few apples hanging from branches, one of them even had a golden hue. Uh, he thought. Glowing fruits?

Around the tree, a mound of dirt had formed mostly covered in some purple moss. The mound had begun to reach his stone bed, a few more centimeters and he might have had a comfy resting place. Beyond the mound, he could see the stone floor, under a few centimeters of water. So that's where the dripping water is draining toward, he thought. I wonder if it's drinkable?

A second later he answered his question. Can I care about that right now? I NEED water! Having spotted water and something seemingly edible, his body reacted almost violently and his needs rose to almost unbearable proportions. Relenting, he pushed himself up and promptly tumbled down, thankfully only to be cushioned by the moss. I'm still so weak! It reminded him of one of his trips to the ground from the wheelchair. The feeling of impotence had been so daunting then. He pushed the memory away. I'm not in a wheelchair anymore! This had the added benefit of landing his head right above the water, and he could see it was clear and seemed clean from the smell, if earthy. Not giving himself the time to second guess himself, he lowered his mouth and drank. The water was cold and refreshing, yet he could only muster one sip before coughing up which didn't help his parched throat. I need to take it slow.

One, two, three sips later he felt full and rolled on his back. He could feel the water sloshing in his stomach. The fatigue of his recent physical exploits settled in for a moment and he felt like sleeping it off. Yet, something else happened. He felt a strange sensation radiating from his stomach. It was like a cold glow and he could feel it spreading everywhere in his body. Like a tide, it rose and fell, drawing with the recess all his lingering pains. He could feel his body relaxing, his tired muscles unknotting, and lastly his mind clearing. "What is this?" he wondered aloud. "Is this what it feels like to be healthy?"

He reveled in the sensation for a moment and, pushed by the almighty feeling, decided it was time to try to stand up for real. The task was arduous, as all his muscles felt new and untried, yet his unusual clarity of mind helped him. He pushed himself up, and this time he managed to stay up. He felt like a baby deer, his legs were shaking, stumbled a step or two, his feet now in the water, he leaned on the wall to keep his balance. "Woohoo! Next step, world conquest!" he said, his voice still rough but much better than before. He laughed and then coughed. "I need to find something to eat," he added. "And something to wear," as he felt a light breeze finding his way under his robe.

His eyes got sidetracked toward his left side. He had been interrupted in his inspection of the room by the water, but now he could see a few minor things he had missed earlier, in the form of not one, but three large stone slabs like doors in the wall. They were about two meters high and one meter wide and were mostly covered in vines, from the opening shone a faint undulating silver light. "So that's the exit?" he wondered aloud. His body wared against his will. On one side, the apples were very tasty looking and his body craved them, on the other side, maybe these doors led to more people and food. He looked back at the apples and then at the doors. Some strange calculation occurred in the back of his mind, bringing into consideration that every step was a chore, so climbing or bending tree branches was several levels higher than his current ability.

"Doors first," he concluded and dragged himself onward to the strange doors. He had to stop several times to catch his breath despite them being barely ten meters away. But he managed to reach the first door without falling despite the treacherous roots and slippery ground. He could see the vines were strangely unable to cross the door opening itself, and were cut short at the edge. Looking inside, he could see through the silvery glow some long dark corridor that seemed to stretch on forever, ending in a bright white opening. "Too far for now," he muttered. "I'll try the next one." He dragged himself to the second door, and then the third and came to the inevitable conclusion: "I'll try the apples," he said. "I'm not ready for anything else."

Yet, right before leaving the doors be for the moment, he had to see if he could cross them if only a finger. He reached out and stopped right before crossing the silver threshold. What if it drags me in? he thought. What if it's a trap? He looked back at the apples longingly, and then at the doors. He nodded, resolute. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." His finger crossed the threshold, a thin silvery film spread on his finger. When he drew his finger back, the silver substance clung to him for a second, dragging the veil with it and with a plop disengaged itself from his finger. He looked at the silver veil rippling for a second then returning to its original shape. "Weird shit," was his only conclusion, his mind was already on the apples as too many heavy subjects in too short a time to process them prevented him from even being surprised by the strange substance anymore.

He turned around, eyes burning with a determination his weariness couldn't hamper. This was his sixteenth birthday after all. While he would have preferred a cake with a few candles, an apple he'd get to harvest himself would do just fine. In the back of his mind, the happy birthday tune was playing, he even tried to whistle it, but it didn't work out. Yet