Sally swam toward the glow above, paddling and kicking slowly but strongly. The bright surface above grew closer. Steadily, she pushed through the water.

Pull, kick, pull, kick, up she rose as the surface neared.

With one last effort, her head broke through and she forced her eyes open. Slowly, ever so slowly, she realized that instead of being in the middle of an ocean, she was lying in a room... somewhere.

Staring up, all she could see were fuzzy shapes and blobs of colors. She blinked repeatedly, but everything remained blurry. Her first impulse was to rub her eyes but she found that she couldn’t move her arms at all. Each one felt as if it weighed millions of tons.

In spite of dreaming about swimming, her mouth was completely dry and her throat felt like someone had sandpapered it. Taking a breath, she attempted to call for help, but nothing came out. She tried again and managed to produce a faint moan. It felt like she needed to clear her throat, but when she tried, it hurt too much. Maybe if her mouth wasn’t so dry she would have more success?

As she struggled to generate even a little bit of spit, an indistinct shape approached and blocked her view. A wet cloth touched her lips and water dripped into her mouth. She worked it around and swallowed, finding that her throat was so sore that the water burned as it went down.

She tried clearing her throat again, and this time the results were better.

“Hello?” And again, “Hello?” Even she could tell it was barely understandable, slightly better than a croak.

There was no answer.

“Hello, anyone there?” she rasped.

Nothing.

Sally could hear sounds of activity; the indistinct rumble of people talking in the distance, things being wheeled down a hallway, and electronic beeps. Where was everyone? Whoever had given her the water wasn’t talking. Where were they? Turning her head to look around proved impossible, so she gave up and tried her arms again. With a herculean effort, she managed to move them a little, but it left her exhausted. After a long pause, she attempted to shift her legs, but there was no response. She couldn’t even really feel them. Hopefully, they were still there.

Sally was pretty sure that she was lying in a bed with her head propped up on a pillow. As best she could tell, the room was painted a greenish color, but she couldn’t make out any details. As her thoughts cleared, it was starting to annoy her that her vision was still blurry.

“Eyes. My eyes. Can’t see.” This came out as little more than a mumble.

Everything went dark, and she felt the wet cloth dabbing at her eyes. When it was removed, Sally blinked and began to discern shapes. After a few more blinks, she could see a bit better but found that even this tiny task exhausted her.

She rested for a moment, and her eyelids started to drift closed. She was nearly asleep when she caught herself and jerked awake. “No!” She’d slept enough and didn’t want to be plunged back into the depths she’d just escaped.

Automatically, she attempted to rub her face, and, this time, actually achieved a reasonable approximation. A minor victory, yes, but even so, she felt some satisfaction.

As her vision improved, it was pretty obvious that she was in a hospital room. No one else would paint the walls that color of green. Past the foot of her bed was a window covered in sheer curtains that let in a little light, and beside her bed was an IV stand with a few bags and boxes with lights. Plastic tubes descended from the stand onto her bed.

Sally’s arm was lying on the tubes, but, as far as she could tell, they didn’t seem to be connected to anything. She dimly remembered something in her mouth, probably one of the tubes, but she wasn’t really sure if this was an actual memory or just a dream. It would explain her sore throat, though. She guessed that some of the tubes had been used for dealing with other biological issues and their odor reinforced that idea. She was somewhat repelled, but less than she would expect. Maybe they’d given her something?

They must have, because even the simple task of looking around was tiring her out. She was confused, exhausted, and had no idea what was happening. In spite of her best efforts, she fell into a light sleep. Sally woke up sometime later, angry at herself for her weakness, but feeling more refreshed. Her mouth was dry, but it wasn’t as bad as when she’d first awakened, and she was even somewhat hungry. Still in the hospital room though, and it appeared that nothing had changed. The light from the window and the noises were coming from the hallway were the same as before. Feeling slightly more alert, she began to process her situation. Things didn’t seem to be right. Who’d removed the tubes? Where was everyone, and who was the silent person helping her?

She tried yelling, “Hello? Anyone?” Her voice was weak but much better than her earlier efforts.

No response.

She made a stab at sitting up, but only shifted a little. Her energy level was too low to undertake such a mighty task, yet.

There was some movement at the foot of her bed and she looked down to see a couple of hands reach up and grasp the metal tubing of the bed frame. The hands were followed by a tuft of hair and then a small head popped up.

Sally’s first impression was that it was a little kid, maybe eight or nine years old. He might have been wearing a headband because he had some sort of medallion on his forehead.

He stared at her.

Sally stared back.

Upon further reflection, the boy looked odd. He had dark copper colored skin, blond wispy hair, a sort of average face, but there was something wrong with his head. What she’d thought was a headband had no band, there was a gold-bronze disk stuck on his forehead, off-center, more to the right than the left. The really strange part was that it looked like the disk was embedded in his forehead and that his head actually bulged up to contain it.

Maybe this was why he was in the hospital?

Sally looked at him and he looked at her.

“Um, hello?” she asked. This was almost understandable.

Nothing. It appeared he wasn’t too chatty.

“What’s your name?” she ventured.

Still nothing.

Sally gave up trying to speak to the boy and looked around the room for whoever had been helping her. She couldn’t spot anyone, but she noticed that the plastic tubes she had seen earlier were still beside her on the bed. It was a little upsetting that they had been left there.

Where were the nurses?

She turned back to the boy. She could see that he wasn’t dressed like she was. He had on a red pullover shirt, which she was pretty sure wasn’t standard hospital garb. Maybe he was visiting someone here with his mom?

“Can you get a nurse or something?” she asked him. He didn’t respond.

She turned toward the door, “Hello!” she yelled, hoping to get the attention of someone, anyone. Sally was pretty sure that she had tried yelling before. “Hello, anyone? Patient awake here!” Still no response from outside the room.

This was getting silly. Sally supposed she should go see what was happening, besides which, she had to pee fairly badly.

She decided to try the little boy one more time. Maybe he wasn’t too bright, but if she explained to him what she wanted in very simple language, he might understand.

She tried speaking very slowly, “Ok, little boy, I need help. Do you understand? I need a nurse. A nurse. Someone.”

She motioned with her arms toward the door. “Go, get someone, an adult, hell anyone, even a janitor, I don’t know! Are you listening?”

She realized she was yelling again and had sort of lost it for a second. That probably wouldn’t help.

The boy looked at her, and stated, in a flat tone, "Middle America, colloquial English, mid or late twentieth century to mid-twenty-first century, female, late teens, early twenties. Clock rate thirteen point seven on the standard scale.”

Sally was astounded. “You can talk!”

Then she felt a little stupid for stating the obvious.

“Can you get help?” She was still speaking very slowly, then felt stupid again. He might be strange but apparently, he could understand her.

He looked at her. “No,” he said.

“What?” She paused. “I hear people outside, just go and get someone.”

“There is no one else, just you and I.”

Ok, he was nuts. Or hopefully, if her experience with her young cousins was any indication, just contrary. But not helpful, either way. Sally guessed it was up to her. She wasn’t very strong, but maybe it would be possible to make it out to the hall and get help. She tested moving her legs. This time there was some response, but even pushing against the blankets was hard.

She worked up onto her elbows and heaved herself into a sitting position. This effort drained her and she had to rest for a few minutes to recover some energy. Once she felt capable, she reached down and pulled the covers back, revealing a hospital gown that was simply draped over her. It was likely to be an annoyance when she moved around because it didn’t have any ties, but that didn’t matter much since she wasn’t in any shape to be able to use them, anyway. Her legs sticking out from the bottom of her gown looked okay, not too thin, so she probably hadn’t been here very long.

Taking it very slowly, she edged her feet toward the side of the bed, adjusting her gown as best she could. The boy wasn’t positioned the best for maintaining her modesty.

Sally looked at him. “Move!” she said. “Come to the side of the bed and help me down.”

Best to be clear with little boys.

The boy, to his credit, didn’t pause. He got down and went to the side of the bed.

Sally inched her feet over the edge.

The boy looked at her. “It is common, in cases where a patient has been bedridden for a significant amount of time, for the individual to suffer from muscle weakness and/or atrophy. It is recommended that the patient undergo at least a week of rehabilitation to regain muscle tone, depending on the level of impairment.”

Sally looked at him. She was somewhat familiar with the stages little kids could go through, but this was little extreme. Wasn't her problem, though. “Thanks," she replied. "I will be sure to do that when I can.”

No response. Sarcasm appeared to be lost on the boy.

Sally sighed. As much as she was sure that this wasn’t going to go well, there wasn’t much choice. She slowly slid her feet over the edge of the bed. As expected, the gown was threatening to expose her, so she wiggled around to maintain a bit of dignity, but it was pretty much a lost cause.

The boy moved, positioning himself to catch her. Sally almost warned him out of the way, but she was quite weak and if things went badly there was some chance that he would break her fall without getting too squished. She paused on the edge of the bed as she worked up her courage. The bottom of the bed was close enough that she might be able to reach the metal frame if things went badly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an easy reach, and she didn’t think she had the muscle to be able to get closer.

Sally inched forward, and as gravity took over she tried to twist and catch the frame. Flailing out, she missed her grab and kept sliding down. When her feet hit the floor, she told herself to stand but there was no noticeable effect and she kept descending.

Anticipating the worst, she was surprised when a couple of arms caught her and deftly lowered her to the floor. The boy put her down and then stood up, watching her. Her first thought was that the little boy was really strong, and her second was that the gown had failed to properly cover her. The boy showed no sign that he cared while Sally re-arranged everything for some dignity.

Lying on the floor, she found that she had absolutely no energy. Walking to the hall was out of the question and crawling was unlikely too. Exhausted and scared, a few tears leaked out. It took several minutes until she was able to move enough to look around. She focused on the boy, who was still watching her. He didn’t fidget or do anything she expected from someone his age. At the moment he was her best bet.

“Can you, I don’t know, maybe help me get to the hallway?” she asked. "I don’t think I can do it myself, and I don’t want to spend a day on the floor here. And I have to pee.”

Oops. Probably too much sharing.

“I have done a cross-correlation viability analysis of your situation and stated objectives, as well as utilizing the information I have obtained through my investigations. The three most advantageous alternatives that I can recommend are; one: stay here until you have recovered enough to move, two: let me carry you to the hallway, and three: allow me to bring over the wheelchair that is behind the door to this room and place you on it.”

He looked at her. Still no expression.

Sally laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation. “Ok,” she said, “let’s go with option three.”

She watched from her position on the floor as the boy walked around the bed to the door, reached behind it, pulled out a folded wheelchair, unfolded it, released its brakes, and wheeled it over. He then set the brakes, put up the footrests, came over to her, picked her up, and put her in the wheelchair.

Sally was amazed. The kid was so strong, even with his small size he’d moved her easily. And not only was he strong, but his arms and shoulders were hard as a rock. She didn’t know what to think of this. She’d also managed to get a good look at his face as he’d shifted her; he looked normal, except for the thing on his forehead.

The boy adjusted the footrests for her and stood back. Sally slumped in the chair, beyond exhausted. When she finally tried to roll the chair, it didn’t budge.

Looking at the boy, she asked, “Could you help me?”

He returned her look. “Please be more specific,” he stated.

Sally looked at him. “Um, can you, maybe, push me to the hall?” she ventured.

The boy walked over, released the brakes, moved to the back of the chair, and pushed it around the bed and through the door.