Quiet Things (1)

At first I wasn't sure about anything. I didn't actually know what was going on. Things happened, and I ignored them and floated along merrily, wondering when I'd be able to go and do...something I couldn't remember. 1

After a while, floating got boring. I was bored. I mean really, really, really bored. Really. Really bored. Get the point? I think I came close to the ultimate boredom. Then I would fall asleep, which despite the common thought, did not help. Even my sleep was boring. I dreamed that I was lying in bed, bored. Then I would wake up, more tired than ever, and ready myself for a whole new day of boredom. This went on longer than I'd like to remember, but not actually as long as it seemed at the time. Then I actually woke up, and all boredom ceased. 2

White walls and white people didn't notice my open eyes, and I almost wanted to hide in my sense of surrealness so they wouldn't. I didn't know what would happen when they did. I had an idea they would probably irritate me if they did notice that I was there, and as it was, they were too busy with things. Keeping it that way seemed like a good idea. Unfortunately, I don't think my thoughts (which were extensive) were actually connected to my body in any
way, because despite my decision to close my eyes, they didn't close. They were tired of being closed. They wanted to be open, and watch things. 3

Eventually, one of the straight white people noticed the fact that I was watching them, and said something loud and excited. I decided that now would be a good time to go to sleep again. This time, however, my body actually agreed.4

When I next woke up (actually woke up, not just dreamed that I woke up), the room was empty. I was suspicious. And rightly so, as it soon became evident. 5

"Dru!" somebody behind me and to the left--my blind spot, it seemed--cried enthusiastically. I saw no reason for the unnecessary loudness, and growled at them. 6

"Dru." the person said again, "Typical Druxend, according to tale. " Why did this person call me Dru? It wasn't my name. My name was...uh...Dru? Maybe it was after all. But you'd think it'd ring a bell. 7

"Dru?" I asked. The word cracked through my throat, and I have a feeling it would have sounded like a question even if it had not been meant to be one. 8

The person came out of my blind spot and stared concernedly at me. Some guy I didn't recognize. Light brown, nondescript hair, straightish and mussy; narrow face; greenish blue eyes and glasses; orange t-shirt that read 'Kigali National Public Library.' His attentive look reminded me of a bird. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the right, which made him even more birdlike.9

"Lowry Druxend?" he suggested. I think I must have given him a shift-eyed glance, because he repeated.10

"Lowry Sarah Druxend?"11

"Uh...sure." My voice cracked again, so I cleared it with a enormous hacking gurgle/cough. Bird-man blinked. I tried again.12

"More details, please?" 13

"Lowry S. Druxend, signed in under Lowry S. Drummond (cover name, I assume); born in September of 1985, I believe, twenty-three years of age, and currently residing in East Ranier Hospital, East Ranier, British Columbia. Degrees in a bunch of stuff, I think, and as of almost two years ago, working for the Canadian Branch of the Alkienian Library System. Got hit by a truck and went into a coma." 14

All this in a low, thoughtful but rapid tone that I didn't recognize. I did not, in fact, recognize anything.15

"Do I know you?"16

"No. Not personally, sed professionally. As in, I've never met you, but I've heard about you, and you've never met me, but presumably you know of me. Or heard my name. Maybe. Do you remember anything at all?" 17

I looked around the room. White walls, tile floor, uncomfortable bed, irritating blankets. Definitely a hospital. But he'd mentioned that, hadn't he? The only thing that wasn't obviously hospital was the bird-man. Did I remember anything? I pondered.18

"I was...bored. Really bored. but I don't think I was actually awake then. I think I was dreaming about being bored. Does that sound right? Other than that, no; I don't remember anything." 19

Bird-man nodded slowly.20

"U redu, then. Well, for the sake of the hospital, can you remember? 'Cause we'd like you back, you probably want to be out, and then we can clear everything up."21

"Uh...sure. Ok." Wait a second; I didn't actually know who he was, and I was agreeing to leave with him? That didn't seem right. 22

"Wait," I said, "Who are you exactly?" The bird-man extracted a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and held it out so I could read it. 23

It was a letter addressed to me (Lowry S. Druxend, to be specific) talking about my connection to the Library System (CBAL for short), the accident, and my colleague (the bird-man?) who was picking me up from the hospital when I was well. It gave all kinds of information to prove that I worked for them and was indeed me, none of which I recognized, but most likely all of which were quite valid. 24

Before I could make any sort of decision on any course of action, we were interrupted by a doctor person, who gently kicked the bird-man out and said that I needed rest. 25

Now that I thought of it, I rather agreed. My brain wasn't used to this much thought, and sleep...sounded like a good...idea...