"Hey, Alexander? It's been weeks now. When are you gonna wake up?" A voice, a blend of concern and sarcasm, reached my ears. It sounded distinctly female.
What is this? A dream? My life unraveling before me? If not, then why do I feel so stiff and sore? The weight of my eyelids felt burdensome, yet I managed a fleeting glimpse of someone before me. A face resting on my side. Am I in a bed? It feels plush, and cozy, and carries the scent of Sampaguita.
"Where... am... I?" My voice emerged as a weak murmur, every ounce of energy channeled into prying my eyes open.
"O-oh, God! You're finally..." the voice quivered with excitement. A rush of footsteps ensued, and a door swung open.
Once again, I found myself alone. I concentrated, attempting to engage my senses, yet nothing materialized. No auras, no indications. The soft whir of an electric fan filled the air, punctuated by a click as it completed a rotation. Ah, yes, I recollected the way the fan clicks before shifting its direction.
Fatigue surged through me, consciousness slipping away as the door creaked open, and I succumbed to slumber.
"He's fine and recovering well. You don't need to keep watch over him," a male voice remarked, tinged with a German accent.
"I just want to see him awake," the voice from earlier expressed, accompanied by gentle taps on my left side.
"Okay then, I'll go check on the other unfortunate ones," the male voice replied, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.
"Almost everyone nearly died... Ms. Magalang, Sir Helbert, and Stephen. Is this really the beginning of the Rapture?" The voice quivered, its owner's despair palpable. A dampness spread on my left arm, likely caused by her tears.
Despite my heavy eyelids, I mustered enough strength to lift them partially. Blurry images greeted me: a hospital bed, pristine white surroundings, the ever-present hum of an electric fan. Then, there she was—the girl. Familiar, yet obscured by the haze.
Summoning my remaining strength, I attempted to form words, "Who... are... you?" The sounds that escaped my lips matched my expectations—weak and garbled.
"Oh, shit!" Patricia exclaimed, her voice trembling between cries and joy. "I-I'm Patricia."
Patricia? My mind struggled to recollect. It felt like an illusion, a haze shrouding my memories. Patricia? A tremor coursed through my body, akin to a seizure.
"DOC! DOC!" Patricia's voice rang out in a mix of fear and desperation, followed by the creaking of a door.
"What's happening? Why is he having a seizure?" the male voice demanded, his tone edged with concern. "Regular heartbeat."
"Then why the heck is he having a seizure? He never had them in the past!" Patricia's voice wavered, still carrying the echoes of sobs.
"I-I don't know. Ever since this apocalypse, every logical explanation has gone haywire," the male responded with a touch of frustration. I sensed his presence as he gently lifted my eyelids, allowing light to flood in. I instinctively squinted in response.
"He's awake! He just squinted..." the male's voice took on a note of relief, "He knows and can hear us."
His voice then took on a more professional tone, clearing his throat. "I am Doctor Heisenburg, a Doctor and Engineer from the ParaHealth Institute."
Heisenberg... The name struck a chord. He was the creator of Russ, the artificial intelligence I knew.