[u][b]Braincell[/b][/u]

Movement.


A fist, pounding on glass, the sound booming. Someone is hammering on a glass wall in front of me and yelling something but it’s so hard to hear. I draw breath, dimly aware of the cold fluid filling my lungs and yet I can still breathe. It had frightened me before…

…the voices in my head clamor, demanding my attention. So many voices, so many things to do. Calculations fill my head, bits of conversation all around me, droning on….

Movement again. Two people arguing and waving at me…. Voices calling me back…. Numbers flash in front of me, line after line and it’s my voice as part of the rest, chanting numbers into the darkness….

Breaking glass and pressure that had been a part of me for so long falling away while the voices in my head scream shrilly as I sag limply, held in something. A hand slaps me but there’s still fluid in my lungs and there’s no more air… I can feel the liquid in the back of my throat but only a little spills out and my lungs are so heavy and there’s no more air….

..and suddenly I’m free, gravity pulling me to the ground and I convulse, spewing liquid from my lungs in sudden silence onto the cold tile floor. I manage to gasp and a little air gets inside me, I can breathe…!

“Is she ok?”
“I don’t know,” someone snaps, “I’ve never ripped anyone out of something like that before!”


Things are being pulled off of me, out of me – and then someone rolls me over onto my back, leaving me staring up at a blurry light. A shadowy figure leans over me as I cough and shiver.
“What’s wrong? Is she dying?”
“She’s cold! You do your job and let me do mine, alright?”


“Tara? Can you understand me?” Fingers pry open my eyelids and I stare back at the blurry. “We’re here to rescue you – do you understand?”

Rescue? Tara?

My left cheek stings hotly again. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” he says again, loudly. I manage to nod, drawing my arms across my chest. Hands pull me up, then wraps me in something dry and warm before hoisting up and over a shoulder, giving me a strange view of the floor.


“Do you think you should carry her like that…”
“We don’t have time for this! She’ll survive. We won’t if we don’t get going!”

Someone opened a door, letting in the acrid smell of smoke and the sound of alarm and scared people.

“This way,” someone said, as I bounced on my rescuer’s shoulder and stared vacantly at the dense beige carpet and a pair of heels in motion. Another doorway slammed open and carpet gave way to dim light glinting off of concrete stairs – and then there was grass.

“I got a serious trauma, I got to get to my rig!” my rescuer yelled, twisting the grass dizzingly, then hands lifted me off his shoulder and onto a soft bed. Faces half-familiar leaned over me as they tightened straps over my body and I was lifted into the back of a waiting ambulance. Doors slammed and someone next to me said, “Let’s get going before they realize!”

“What… going on?” I managed as we lurched into motion.
“It’s ok Tara, you’re out of there.”
“Out of where?”

“Is something wrong with her?”

“Naw,” my rescuer snorted from somewhere up front. “She’s just confused. Sorry little lady, but we just pulled you out of the Internet. Your employer was using your brain for a server.”