Jackie woke up confused, as is usual. Sleep is confusing. Dreams are baffling. The concept of transitioning from one perceived reality to another is a tolerated madness.
So far, normal.
But the beeping and the various clear lines with fluid in them, those weren’t right. The cot she was in was not her bed. She tried to move and felt someone pull at her arm. Their fingernails were sharp, tugging at her skin. She looked down at the IV in her arm, not understanding what she was seeing.
A nurse came in.
“Look who’s awake,” the nurse said brightly. All the cameras in the room obediently turned to look. There were several cameras in the room. In this way, it was like every other room in Night Vale.
“Where the hell is this?”
“You had a touch of an accident,” the nurse said. “I wouldn’t worry about it. But then it didn’t happen to me. You should probably worry. Have a great day!”
She trilled this and whisked out the door. She was the type of person to trill and to whisk.
The hospital room was small. Just a sink and a cabinet of supplies and a window looking out on the abandoned coal mine. The hospital had been built next to the mine for the convenience of the mining company and their many, many injured miners. It was not a safe mine. Fortunately it had been closed down years ago after a great deal of public outcry. Now it had been converted into a prison for the Sheriff’s Secret Police to keep people who didn’t vote correctly in municipal elections, its sordid past long behind it.
Between the door and the window was Jackie’s bed, and on it, her. Above her were several cameras and a loudspeaker. Her left arm was in a cast. How did she get here?
The loudspeaker crackled. An authoritative voice of indefinite gender issued from it.
“Ask your doctor if she has a plan for the future,” the loudspeaker said. “Ask her what it is. Criticize it.”
“Hello?” Jackie said.
There was a doctor next to her. The doctor had presumably entered through the door and walked up to her. Jackie just hadn’t seen the doctor do that.
The doctor rubbed her hands together.
“Well, what do we have here?”
The doctor was washing her hands, although Jackie did not remember her walking to the sink. Then she was by the bed again, her face quite close. There were no transitions, just her in one place and then the other.
“You’ve been in a terrible accident. Are you in a lot of pain?”
“I don’t know. No?”
“We have you on a lot of drugs. The drugs keep you from feeling the pain. But the pain is there. You’ll have to believe me. But can I tell you a secret?”
Jackie wasn’t sure.
“Yes?”
“The secret is that you don’t have to believe me. You have no reason to trust me at all.”
The doctor winked, and then she was gone again. Or she walked out the door, is presumably what she did, only Jackie hadn’t noticed her leaving.
The loudspeaker came alive again.
“Ask your doctor a question only she would know the answer to.
“Ask your doctor if you’ll be able to play the piano after. After everything. After it’s all finished and there’s nothing left. Will you be able to play the piano then? Ask your doctor that.”
“Sorry,” the doctor said. She was hovering over Jackie again. “We’re not sure how to turn that off.”
She waved vaguely at everything in the room, including Jackie.
“You’ll have some trouble for a while,” she said. “It will be difficult. You might notice some problems with walking and with life in general. You should look at the sky and scream about how empty it is at least twice a day.”
“What kind of accident?” said Jackie.
The doctor smiled.“The accidental kind,” she whispered. She was gone again.
“There was a slip of paper in my hand. Where is it?” Jackie asked the empty room. “I can’t feel it. I can’t feel it in the cast.”
The nurse came bustling in. She was the kind of person to bustle.
“Did you find a slip of paper in my hand?” Jackie said.
“Do not fret for a sec,” she chirped. “Before we put the cast on, I set that paper safe and sound in this box here.”
Jackie used whatever energy she had to sit up. Her face was warm. The nurse felt around in the box, frowning. Then she held it upside down. She smiled at Jackie.
“Looks like it’s gone. Sorry, dear. You look sad. Was it important?”
Jackie felt the blood leave her face. She couldn’t feel the paper in her hand, but she knew.
The nurse shrugged and then zipped out the door (she was the kind of person to zip, too).
Jackie moved her fingers inside the cast. Her fingers hurt so bad. It served them right for going numb and making her hope that the paper was finally gone.
Various machines beeped. None of them seemed to be attached to her. There was a gurgle from the loudspeaker.
“Ask your doctor a direct question with an unambiguous answer. Try to get your doctor to commit to something for once in her life.
“Ask your doctor a rhetorical question and spread your hands out despairingly. Put your doctor in a position where he feels he can’t help you even if he can.”
Jackie was alone.
The doctor was standing beside her.
“You’ll be fine. I think,” the doctor said. “I don’t know you, though. Maybe you’ll make a lot of mistakes and end up horribly unhappy. But the injuries will go away eventually. That’s the good news. There is also bad news.”
Jackie was alone again.
The voice from the loudspeaker came out as a whisper.
“Ask your doctor why. Say it like that: ‘Why?’ See if you can find out for us, okay? See if you can find out why.”
The machines beeped. Jackie closed her eyes and returned to the relative normalcy of dreams.