Due to an unexpected, and dangerous, illness, they wake up in an ICU drawer. And absolutely freak out due to severe claustrophobia. -- Anon Guest
[AN: There's something very similar to this in my upcoming novel, Adapting, so I shall attempt to come up with another one]
Waking up in a coffin is not fun. Trust me on this. Waking up in a coffin and being unable to move is way worse.
It does not matter how friendly the colourful blobs on the screen are. It does not matter how often or in how many languages I can see telling me to please remain calm. The automated voice in all known languages can try soothing me but it won't work.
Yes, I know my panic responses are spiking. Thank you for telling me. Get. Me out. Of the coffin. And they won't.
Your sedatives are meaningless, I don't like it there.
Finally, the bed moved, though I could not. It was still a tight space, because room to move is a luxury in most space installations. I love me a distant ceiling, all the same.
The attending Medik checked the readings and sighed, "Another one?"
This happened more than once?
"I'm freeing up your ability to communicate. There's no damage to your vocal chords, so please do not yell or scream. Other patients are resting."
Words of power, indeed. There's nothing like public opinion to curb otherwise belligerent people. I dutifully waited until I could intelligibly say a tongue twister as directed before informing her, "I didn't know that I had claustrophobia until I woke up in here." And then, "This has happened more than once?"
"You're the second. The first is a far more colourful episode involving a time traveller." A friendly and soothing smile. "The good news for you is that there is now a protocol. The bad news is that it will still take some time to fully prep an OR for your needs."
We worked together to figure out that I could cope with merely my head and shoulders out of the drawer. If other patients needed seeing to, then I could cope with being in the coffin for a minute at most.
They tried to keep it down to seconds. Bless their cotton sockassins[1].
It was a lot easier being in a bed. Even if it was a bed in a truly sterile environment and an attendant Medik in a full biotainer livesuit.
"Do you remember what happened?" said Medik Steb.
"Uh... we went out for sushi, karaoke, and pizza. I didn't feel too great after the third milkshake... I know I was killing it with We Built This City, and then... coffin."
"The pizzeria sourced their salami from a Deregger smuggler. It's not supposed to go bad like it did, but they managed it. There's a full investigation, and the procurer is facing charges for endangering station biosecurity[2]."
"Ah. Do I also get to sue?"
"There's a class action suit in progress."
Well. That was an improvement on things.
[1] Blending the best features of both socks and mockassins, this footwear has a thin, pliable sole attached to a warm sock-like structure.
[2] In planetary environments, one case of black mould merely ruins a house. In a station, one case of black mould ruins the entire populations' lives. And the station. It therefore makes a lot of sense to be paranoid regarding spores, moulds, and fungus.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / jordygraph]
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