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In Enemy Hands

April 2010

Soon after you are struck with the "transcardial wooden implant," you are quickly surrounded by the federal strike team and loaded into a body bag. The next several hours, you are unable to see anything, but you are vaguely aware that you have been loaded into a vehicle of some sort and that you are moving. The driver (male) has a meandering conversation about his opinions regarding the film "Muholland Drive" with a passenger who seems somewhat jaded about David Lynch in general and continuously gripes about "Twin Peaks" jumping the shark.

You eventually sink into daylight slumber, utterly uncertain of where you are.

When you awaken, you remain paralyzed and in darkness, and can feel the weight of some manner of padded sleep mask type device over your face. It takes you several minutes to ascertain that you cannot feel your arms or legs, and you get a sinking sense of horror as you come to the conclusion that they have been amputated. You can feel the dull twinge of a needle jamming itself into your neck and the itch of medical tape as it is secured. A feeling of strange fullness fills you as you can feel the slow fluid pulse of blood pumping its way into your system. There is a shrill electronic beep as a professional sounding female voice speaks the words "Specimen 0278. Regenerative Hemophage. Sub-type unknown. Prime psycho-telepathic session one begin."

Nothing follows for several tense minutes, but you eventually feel a hazy sensation of mental stillness displace your own panicked thoughts. Like oil sinking effortlessly through water, something *foreign* begins to penetrate your mind. The feeling is wholly different from any experiences you have had previously with telepathy, and you feel a sense of serenity as whatever it is begins to gently probe your thoughts. Flashes of your capture pass by you without eliciting much by the way of emotion. Your mind travels backwards from this point on, passing peacefully from moment to moment until you find your memories fading back to your Embrace. Bits and pieces of information cluster and disperse as you recall the enchanting beatific rapture of looking at Andrea's face or at the shirt Cassandra was wearing the night you got into the scuffle with Pangloss.

Eventually, the session ends with a second beep, and you feel a cold sensation beginning in your neck and traveling down to your heart as dizziness gives way to torporous sleep again.

You float between wakefulness, slumber, and lucid psychological memories for some length of time that you cannot name. Over and over again, you feel the cool touch of another mind entering yours. Your one connection to reality is the calm female voice announcing your session number. The last thing you remember before awakening is "Specimen 0278. Regenerative Hemophage. Sub-type Toreador. Prime psycho-telepathic exit session. Begin."

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