The darkness was a heavy, immovable mantle. A deafening silence, broken only by the distant whisper of a river. Then, the pain. A dull, stabbing pain that spread from my head to my extremities. I remembered... the darkness of the van, the shock, the cold water, the despair... the drowning.
I woke up. Not to full life, not yet. I was a diffuse consciousness, a thread of silk in the vastness of nothingness. Then, the light. A dim light, filtered through a white curtain. The stench of antiseptic hit me with the force of a punch. I was in a hospital bed.
My eyes opened slowly, fighting against the heaviness in my body. The white ceiling was a blur, but gradually things took shape. A nurse approached, her face kind, but with an underlying unease. And then, I saw it.
Above his head, floating in the air, a small text box, translucent, visible only to me. Inside, a series of data:
Name: Sarah Miller
Age: 35 years old
Favorability: 41% (Neutral)
Skills: None.
Status: Tired, worried about her performance evaluation.
It was not a simple mind reading. It was a direct visualization of her thoughts, emotions and physical state, presented in a clear and organized way. I felt a new presence in my mind, something activating.
Suddenly, a much larger picture appeared in my own field of vision, overlaying everything else:
Hello! Relax, don't panic.
A moment later, the text changed:
I am the System. I have reviewed your memories... what an adventure! Five months of unconsciousness, huh? The world has changed quite a bit while you were gone.
There are monsters, magic, and a lot of things I don't quite understand, to be honest. But I've learned a lot from your memoir.
In short: the world is crazy. You need to catch up. Shall we get started?
I, in my mind, answered: What happened? Doubting what I was seeing.
The painting responded immediately: A lot. Too much to count now. First, I need you to tell me what you remember. And then, I'll explain everything I've learned from your own experience.
I thought I was going crazy but....
I, in my mind, answered: I remember a van... darkness... a blow... water...
The chart responded immediately: That matches my data. A kidnapping, an accident... but that's not the whole story. There's something else, something big.
Something big? What? I asked, curiosity and a hint of fear gnawing at me.
Hold on. I'm processing information. Much of what you know about the world... is incorrect, or at least incomplete. The text flickered for a moment, as if the system was working at full speed. I need more data. What do you remember after the water?
I tried to concentrate, searching in the darkest corners of my memory. ... I woke up in a hospital... a feeling of... emptiness...
Empty. Right. That vacuum is... interesting. It's the key, I think. The frame remained static for a moment. The nurse, oblivious to our silent conversation, adjusted my pillow with a gentle smile. In my mind's eye, I saw the chart with its data, updating:
Emotional state: Moderate concern, tiredness.
His thoughts continued to be visible, a mixture of concern for me and domestic issues.
And after the hospital? asked the System.
... I saw those pictures... the data... your message...
Perfect. Now I understand better. Look, believe me, I don't have all the answers. I don't remember my origin, or my purpose. But I have learned from your memories, and I know that something great has happened. Something that has changed the world forever.
What has changed? I insisted, impatience beginning to grow.
A cataclysmic event. Magic, monsters... things that were once science fiction are now reality. The picture flickered again, showing a brief image, a blurry flash of a ruined city, a monstrous creature in the distance. Then the image disappeared, replaced by text. I need more time to process all the information. For now, concentrate on recovering. Observe the people around you. The pictures will help you. The more data I collect, the better I can explain everything to you.
The nurse walked away, and the chart with her data vanished. I was left alone with the System chart, now static, waiting.