The first thing he knew was light, and the second was life. Thousands of pinpricks of it, scuttling along invisible pathways and organic circuitry. Third was sound, an echoing growl of sound, modulated and pitched with intent, though such was lost on his ears. There was a whistle, a slamming, an irritating buzz, and the voice emanating from a dark figure by the wall, whose face the orange tip of a cigar dimly lit.
The fourth sensation, as the shadow-person leaning against the wall approached and inserted a thin needle into his arm, was pain, though a dull, sharp pain. A soft touch was the fifth, a hand brushing back his hair, and another hovering hand shone a bright light into his eyes. Behind the hand was a pair of light-blue eyes, kind and concerned, and this was the sixth.
The seventh knowing, as the two figures retreated, shutting him in the darkness behind, was nothing he could name, but hurt worse than the first pain, and there were no eyes to console him.
** deceit cannot recall identity? or blind? both
cryo-1
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