Chapter One
Maya
“The experiment went well.” One white coat said to another.
Maya listened to the oddly familiar female voice. “We’re close to locating the fifth dimension.” In a dizzying parade, the white coats swirled in and out of the room.
The weight of her predicament sank like an anvil plunged in water.
Without her glasses, blurred faces swept through the room. The white coats spoke about her in muffled voices and broken sentences.
“We extracted most of her consciousness.” More white coats entered the room in a hurried pace and others left with an enviable swiftness.
What? They removed my consciousness. Impossible.
Paralyzed, Maya struggled, her eyes darted around the room. Like giant marshmallows, the white coats focused their attention on screens. Beads of sweat formed on her temple. Her tongue, now swollen, filled her mouth. Gurgling, she choked on the fluid in her throat.
The experiment went well? No! They most certainly did not remove most of my consciousness! But, I …what is it called? The fogginess muted her ability to recall meaningful details of her life. She shook her head violently from side to side and soft, colorful images filled her mind. Images of Jack, her son, an arena for warriors imbued in magic and suitable for a queen.
What do they call me? They called her seven, maybe room seventy-seven. The walls – painted a light blue and streaked with silver swaths of light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs – like clear moonlit nights.
The white coats shuffled through the room again. Most left and another returned. This one checked monitors and pressed buttons on the machines.
A warm hand held hers. Could I know these things if I had no consciousness?
“In a few minutes, before her body fails, we’ll tag the DNA for observation.” The source of the earlier familiar voice stepped to Maya’s side and changed an I.V. bag.
The I.V. needle pierced the flesh below the crook of her elbow on the top-side of her forearm. Slowly, the glowing bluish-green liquid entered her vein. Horrified at what the liquid might be, Maya’s eyes widened. A warm and tingling sensation spread through her body. Unable to force her tongue and mouth to form words, she screamed. The pathetic gurgle dismissed by the white coats. “It’s just air expelling from her lungs.” Lights flickered and melted in her hazy vision. Everything went dark. A hand squeezed hers with dread and desolation. Her limbs disobeyed any commands she willed upon them, refusing to move, now her body succumbed to the paralysis.
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In a white room with white tile walls and a white tile floor, cold fluorescent lights brilliantly flood the space. The walls go on forever. The floor Maya stands on falls away below her. The high ceiling cannot be reached with the tallest ladder.
Blinking quickly, Maya squints in the bright illumination.
“Where am I?” She rubs the tender tissue of her eyes. “Hello? What am I doing here?”
No answer. Her voice echoes from every direction.
In the void of the room, stands a form, a man with a beard.
I need my glasses.
She grabs her head. A light turquoise aura surrounds the fuzzy man with the fuzzy beard.
“Do you know why you are here?” The messenger’s robust voice, strong, brave and kind resonates between her temples.
Where am I? This must be a dream. The lingering vividness fades away like grains of sand slipping through fingers. Yes, a dream.
“No. This is not a dream. I ask you again, do you know why you are here?” The messenger’s evanescent voice in her head is softer now, closer.
Dammit! This must be important. Ripping and tearing sensations slash her insides.
The molecules in her bones vibrate with a stinging, buzzing, a sharpness pulsates in her spine. Cramps crash in waves, muscles electrified, she inhales deeply and lurches forward with arms wrapped tightly around her sides. She cries out, every cell aching with searing, burning pain.
“No. I…I don’t know why I’m here.” She falls to her knees and curls in a tight ball.
The room darkens. Specks of dust float through the air, glittering and glowing like tiny illuminated snowflakes. The white tile walls, the white tile floor, and the white ceiling play a scene like a movie.
Below her, on snow-dusted mountaintops blanketed with vibrant green forests, veins of blue streams snake and cut their way through centuries-old volcanic rock.
The pain in her gut eases. She stands and stumbles to the illuminated tile wall.
Pure dazzling white snow-caps glisten and sparkle. The call of wild birds in the air ring out loud, crisp, clear tones. The stringent aroma of pine and fresh clean snow permeate the room.
The image on the tiles shift. To Maya’s left, a red dragon, the size of an airline, glides on the wind. Yellowish-black beckoning eyes regard her. How tiny she must look to this magnificent sky creature. Her whole body could fit inside those eyes. The smooth and glossy scales on its head gleam like waxed sheet metal melded with the tough, leathery animal skin.
More images flash by.
Now on the tiles, a toddler plays in a meadow. Cheery laughter echoes the joy of a child, lingers.
“You are here because your work is not done.” The messenger startled her.
Memories from this life, some from ancient lifetimes, some from a distant world unknown to her flash by. “My work is not done?” The story unfolds in dream sequences on the white tiles.
“You have a job to do and there is still more to learn. I’m here to guide you back to where you came from. It’s time to wake up now.” The messenger shook her shoulder. A liquid warmth runs through the spot he touches.
“Wake up? Surely, I am awake, the pain, it stretches and stabs…the burning. Yes, indeed, I am awake.” She cannot turn away from the story on the tiles. Is it my story?
Blinding light steaks through the void. Maya shields her face and a clap of thunder knocks her to her knees. The messenger disappears and his words echo, “It’s time to wake up now!”
The white tile walls, white tile ceiling, and white tile floor darken like a city in a blackout. No time for questions. Maya’s time in the room depleted, it’s time now. Time for her to go back.
Maya stumbles in the blackness. Trembling, she holds her stomach with one hand and the other she reaches into the void steadying herself, balancing precariously in the empty room. I know what to do. The tiled walls appear close, but an illusion, a mirage, Maya never reaches them.
With each footstep, her bones—like shattered glass—scrape against taught muscles. Her head pounding, bile erupts at the top of her throat. Collapsing, the back of her eyes burn. A minute or two, maybe more, the pounding dissipates, her eyes shut and deep sleep engulfs her.
“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up and remember who you are.”The messenger’s words echo. Opening her eyes, Maya fumbles for her glasses and a warm hand reaches out to help. Soft iridescent light from the fading dusk shines through the window. The comfort of a hospital bed beneath her, she inhales the cool air and lay quiet. Machines whisper a lullaby in beeps and whirs.