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part 2: a different light burns the spirit

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Thomas was struggling against his own mind, trying to gain clarity. His
inner world was confused and slow. His repeated attempts to construct
some sort of logic were failing. He needed to see where he was, but all
he could see was that damned light. He rubbed his hands together to try
and warm himself. Something was obstructing them. They felt sticky.

He used his left hand to press up and down his right index finger. He
was wearing something on his hands, and each press against his finger
would cause a depression until he pressed a spot beside it. He squinted
as hard as he could to try and see the hands he was holding right in
front of his face, but he only saw them as dark, fuzzy blobs.

It's the oil, he thought to himself. He knew the name of the goop
covering his entire body, but he still didn't feel any closer to
understanding his situation. He could also feel the snug body suit he
was wearing. He knew it pressed the oil against his skin, and suddenly
he thought he knew what had happened.

His new thought shocked his system, and he fell backwards onto his ass.
If he was right, there would be something behind him that would prove
it. He waved his arms around blindly, trying to grab ahold of the
container he was looking for. He found the lower rim, and placed his
hand inside. He felt a rush as his suit sucked cold oil onto his hand.

He was crouching in front of a hibernation pod.

The suit he was wearing was called an oil suit, and it was made using
specialized machines combined with biological components. These suits
were familiar to anyone taking flights to Mars, as spending 1.8 years in
a Hohmann transfer ellipse on a tiny sun bus was not considered to be a
very enjoyable time.

The boredom of the trip was one of the reasons why the bus maintenance
personnal (or "bumples") were paid so much. They had to stay awake
during the entire flight to keep an eye out in the hibernation bay. In
addition to the routine maintenance they performed, they were in charge
of pod entry procedures, initiating the pod release sequences, and
re-acclimating discharged passengers.

Wait a second, if he was just discharged from his pod, where the hell
was his bumple? Who was going to re-acclimate him? He felt a nervous
boil of acid hit his stomach, and he vomited.

Things must be seriously wrong if there wasn't a bumple on duty. He knew
this and wished he didn't, because the foggy confusion that had been an
annoyance was quickly becoming full-blown panic.

He tried yelling for help.
"Hello?!", his voice arose, weak and soft.
"I need, help! Bumples!"

At that moment, he realized what a pathetic mess he must look like. An
atrophied body from 22 months of space travel, covered in oil and
spread across a cold tile floor, wailing for help.

He started to cry.

to be continued

i hope this was less dry, i got caught up in describing backstory in the last segment. this segment about 2/3rds the length but hopefully more potent.

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Personally, I think it is spot on. It moves well, raises a number of questions, and blends background info with the current situation in a near seamless way. Good job.

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This is pretty interesting. Confusing in a good way. Do continue.

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Demons Hand said:

I like it more then the fist part. It shows inprovement. How many parts is it going to have?

no idea

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