What do I remember?

Several pictures whiz through my mind. First a rose garden. The sharp pain of thorns radiates through my hand, and I begin to bawl. A kind, middle aged maid with amber curls rushes over to me. I feel comfort in her embrace. My vision fades off into a blur before refocusing. Now I am before a mirror in a frilly red dress. The vice grip of a corset digs at my abdomen and a thousand pins pierce my scalp, but I endure. Behind me a raven-haired woman stares with a stern look. Mother, I think. Behind her the maid from before stands at attention. I glance again at the mirror. I have a distaste for the dress, but I admit to myself that the pinup of my golden braids brings out my blue eyes. They’re especially accentuated when paired with the piercings on my pointed ears. Mother and the Maid do not have pointed ears.

Suddenly a headache rings through my skull. It’s as if the pins holding my hair became nails that were simultaneously driven down by a thousand hammers. More images, but I can only catch small details before they’re replaced yet again. Horseback riding. Etiquette lessons. An annoying boy of a rival family. I swore to beat him. Mother smiling as I cast light magic—I was about 5. The maid being cast away from the household. Rage. Mother yelling as I burn her roses with fire magic. My first meeting with my father, a well-built man with silver hair and ears as pointed as mine. I meet the boy again, but now he’s grown more handsome. He doesn’t leave me alone. The boy is sprawled over on the floor while I laugh mockingly. We grow up, he continues to chase after me. He finally bests me. By that time, he looked like a young adult.

The pain doubles and shocks run through my very being. A poem. A kiss from the boy. A graduation. We run from our families. Struggles on the road. A boat. A ring. A storm. Desperation. Cold, unceasing darkness. Then my pain subsides. I see nothing and feel nothing for an eternity.

Who are you?

Escyra Stärenholm, I think. No sooner than I reply does my brief respite into reality end.

Who is the boy?

Abraham Penrose. This time my consciousness remains for a little longer. I notice that my senses both exist and don’t exist at the same time. I feel cold and stiff, yet I lack hands to move. I sense salt, but I sense no tongue. The image of a glass cylinder comes to my mind, but I don’t have eyes. Another eternity overcomes me.

Do you want to be free?

While lucid, I feel nothing but disgust at how unnatural my “sleep” feels. I agree without a second thought.

I’m not sure how much time passed after that, but it felt like weeks. Maybe it could only have been a few minutes. I never went unconscious after that last question—though it hardly mattered. I remain in a glass cylinder surrounded by salty water. After a while I am made aware that I in fact, do not have a body. As far as my senses are concerned, nothing is in this container.

I decide not to dwell on it too much. “I think, therefore I am,” as some wise sage once said. Being able to remember my own sense of self should be enough for now. Lack of body aside, I find it disconcerting that I cannot see more than five feet beyond my own container. Above me several tentacle-like tubes run from my cylinder into who knows where. There seems to be water just beyond my case as the tubes sway in suspension. I reach out and sense fresh water. I try to see how it tastes but I feel nothing but cold glass.

Interesting, I think to myself. Some of my senses seem to have a range that transcends physical objects while others are still bound by barriers. I try to hear for the first time and in return I hear a faint buzzing—like a thousand bees swarming.

A presence comes before the glass. I can’t sense anything beyond knowing that someone is in fact there.

Oh, you’re awake? I’m surprised you’re alert enough to be testing out your mental ranges. Are you able to communicate? The words run through my mind like sweet honey. It’s not unpleasant, but the feeling of “hearing” without using ears is unsettling.

I try to reply, Mmem-mn-nn. Mnan-mmm. Nothing but garbled nonsense comes out.

The presence seems to urge me to stop and starts reassuring me. That’s fine don’t strain yourself. This method of communication must be foreign for an air creature such as yourself. We can practice once we get you into a more stable body.

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When he mentions a new body, a feeling of anxiety and nervousness rushes over me.

Hm, you didn’t seem to like the sound of that. I believe your name was Escyra Stärenholm. I’m sorry to say but when we found you, your body was beyond repair. Your extremities were crushed from the ocean pressure. Your ribcage acted as a crushing cage for your organs on compression and your heart was in a sorry state to say the least. The nitrogen in your body practically bubbled over when you crossed our depressurized domain. You’re lucky the magic circuits in your brain were mostly unaffected and we were able to salvage as much as we did. A 60% yield of your personality would have been impressive even in prime conditions, but that much remained even after all the damage.

Half his words fly straight over my metaphorical head. I try to process what he said and I can only come to one conclusion…

In laymans terms, Escyra Stärenholm, you died, and we brought back to life what remained.

A sinking feeling hits me. Died? If I didn’t currently have a body, it would be hard to believe. But then what did he mean about bringing me back to life? A 60% yield also didn’t sound as optimistic as he made it out to be, but I guess I should be glad Abraham and my family are part of that. Thinking on it, I don’t remember the names of my parents and can only recall their faces. Abraham Penrose on the other hand is full of emotions, attachment, and longing, yet I can’t remember what he looks like at all.

Escyra Stärenholm, if you are agreeable, we could place you in another body if you so wish. Our kind artificially synthesizes them so that we may walk among the creatures of the land and learn from you. There are a great many mysteries above these drab and well combed waters after all. We are unsure if it will be successful as we have yet to try it on a species beyond our own. In fact, your extraction was an experiment in and of itself. Recovering your psyche was but an after effect.

Ouch. I already died and I can barely remember much. Rub more salt in the wound why don’t you.

I sense…consternation and a light hint of annoyance. Rest assured, despite being an unexpected development, me and my peers have devoted full resources to resuscitate you into a more familiar form. You can expect nothing but the best. Would you be willing to proceed with the experiment?

In succession I feel fear, then sadness, then anger, curiosity, and gratitude. My emotions bounce into my mind as if ricocheting off the glass. While I understand this presence means well, I can’t help but radiate suspicion amongst it all. That said, I don’t really have many options. I focus and try to rein in the storm of emotions I’m letting out.

Most impressive. To think a human could possess this much mental fortitude.

I try to project “can it, Mr. Freaky Voice”, but all that comes out is C-c-ca-cacca-ca-ca.

The presence replies. Don’t mind me, I’m just observing. I’m not sure what you’re trying to convey but do go on.

I attempt to sigh but fail. Back to thinking. If I want to meet my family or meet Abraham again, I need to get out of this container. I think to myself that I could just try to break out, but what then? Even if I was able to, I would likely die immediately. The water I’m suspended in, plus the tubes likely play some part in keeping my ethereal consciousness the way it is. No time like the present I think in my head. I agree.

I’ll take your notably relaxed state and lack of aggression as a sign of agreement. We will proceed.

The tubes above me begin to writhe like a living creature. The buzzing of bees I heard earlier grows to the feeling of an overwhelming wave rushing over my entire being. Heat radiates inside of the liquid I am suspended in until I can no longer sense anything beyond the glass.

Suddenly a vast feeling of vertigo takes over me. Calling it unpleasant would be like saying a bed of nails is soft. Prickly pins and needles assail my senses as I feel like I am falling from the clouds and accelerating to the ground at a great pace. Given the circumstances, calling it soul-wrenching would be appropriate.

I can’t scream. If I could, I would have a long time ago. Instead, I endure as the feelings of acceleration and vertigo rise tenfold. I’m suddenly made aware of another tube adjacent to me. There, a humanoid husk awaits.

A sensation of being crushed and elongated takes over my body as I hurtle towards the husk. I feel myself draining from my container and fly through what feels like miles of tubing. Hammering sensations assail my mind as it gets jostled from several bumps along the way—though I’m unsure if they were physical or otherwise. I see the body plain as day and I speed towards it. It looks female.

Instinctively, I think to spread my arms and legs as if to help spread the weight of the fall. Then I remember that I have no body and the thing I am falling towards will be my body—assuming I don’t splatter on impact. What was I thinking? Experiments go awry all the time. This clearly was something new for the ‘presence’ as well. How often do people get something right on the first try anyway? I practically told them to treat me like a guinea pig and kill me if things started to look bad. My senses begin to burn as I feel electric currents spark throughout the tube. Surely that wasn’t meant to happen. All I see now are flashes of reds and blues. Panic wells within me, and from my soul I let out a loud scream.

AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

Impact. I lose consciousness.