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13 January
I am told I was unconscious for four days. I believe it. I have little memory of what happened after the decision to disarm me was made. Only that I was brought to hospital and surrounded by machines whose provenance I've only just begun to grasp, my body promptly covered with various sensors.
At least here when I am stripped of my clothing I have an assurance that it'll be returned. Much more familiar.
Beyond that, I recall only a terrible pain, worse than any injuries I've ever sustained. A suffocating sensation. A terrifying sudden slipping of consciousness into hallucinations.
I am told I had a violent seizure. Again, I believe it.
I write the above only as a description of what has gone before in order to aid in drawing conclusions regarding my present state.
Presently, my mind is fogged with something they call morphine, which feels very similar to laudanum. It dulls this dreadful nerve pain to something bearable and I can sleep.
13 January
Memory has returned--not of my disarming, of Nissen's depravities, of what was done to me. It's small wonder the cold bothers me so much, now. And I am much more easily chilled.
Must thank Vash. And apologise. The poor fellow, he shouldn't have had to go through that.
13 January
I knew things would be different for me if I survived this ordeal. I knew I would be altered in mind and body, but I had no idea the extent of that alteration until now.
That noise in my mind is gone. It could probably best be described as some kind of singing, a melody of terrible beauty and its counterpoint. I'd noticed it when I'd first constructed Palindrome, but it had faded with familiarity and now it is only noticeable in its absence. That is inconsequential, though I may revisit the thought later.
Ever since Palindrome was damaged I had experienced a steady decline in vitality, to the point where I suspected I was dying. I still do not know if I was, indeed, dying, or if its imbalance had simply caused me to feel unwell. This decline has been reversed, it seems. This is no time for an accurate assessment of my condition, however. Whether I'll return to the level of vitality I had before it was damaged or not remains to be seen, but I suspect there are too many other factors at work in this loss of life-energy than solely the imbalance in question. I am still recovering.
More morphine is needed. This pain is infuriating.
14 January
I am told I shout and wail piteously in my sleep. Must rectify that. Meditation on my preoccupying thoughts should work.
They're different to the preoccupations I've had for so long, though. I feel, in some way, that a burden has been lifted from my mind. It feels so much freer, so much more alert to so many more things--simple things, beautiful things, painful things, as though the world and everyone in it has been brought into a sharp focus, again.
I find myself thinking of my family often. Must meditate on that, too. I'm certain my mind is trying to understand something subconsciously.
15th January
Providence has gifted me with a very intriguing opportunity to test just how much that magick that surrounded the city had influenced my thoughts and my passions.
I am told I was unconscious for four days. I believe it. I have little memory of what happened after the decision to disarm me was made. Only that I was brought to hospital and surrounded by machines whose provenance I've only just begun to grasp, my body promptly covered with various sensors.
At least here when I am stripped of my clothing I have an assurance that it'll be returned. Much more familiar.
Beyond that, I recall only a terrible pain, worse than any injuries I've ever sustained. A suffocating sensation. A terrifying sudden slipping of consciousness into hallucinations.
I am told I had a violent seizure. Again, I believe it.
I write the above only as a description of what has gone before in order to aid in drawing conclusions regarding my present state.
Presently, my mind is fogged with something they call morphine, which feels very similar to laudanum. It dulls this dreadful nerve pain to something bearable and I can sleep.
13 January
Memory has returned--not of my disarming, of Nissen's depravities, of what was done to me. It's small wonder the cold bothers me so much, now. And I am much more easily chilled.
Must thank Vash. And apologise. The poor fellow, he shouldn't have had to go through that.
13 January
I knew things would be different for me if I survived this ordeal. I knew I would be altered in mind and body, but I had no idea the extent of that alteration until now.
That noise in my mind is gone. It could probably best be described as some kind of singing, a melody of terrible beauty and its counterpoint. I'd noticed it when I'd first constructed Palindrome, but it had faded with familiarity and now it is only noticeable in its absence. That is inconsequential, though I may revisit the thought later.
Ever since Palindrome was damaged I had experienced a steady decline in vitality, to the point where I suspected I was dying. I still do not know if I was, indeed, dying, or if its imbalance had simply caused me to feel unwell. This decline has been reversed, it seems. This is no time for an accurate assessment of my condition, however. Whether I'll return to the level of vitality I had before it was damaged or not remains to be seen, but I suspect there are too many other factors at work in this loss of life-energy than solely the imbalance in question. I am still recovering.
More morphine is needed. This pain is infuriating.
14 January
I am told I shout and wail piteously in my sleep. Must rectify that. Meditation on my preoccupying thoughts should work.
They're different to the preoccupations I've had for so long, though. I feel, in some way, that a burden has been lifted from my mind. It feels so much freer, so much more alert to so many more things--simple things, beautiful things, painful things, as though the world and everyone in it has been brought into a sharp focus, again.
I find myself thinking of my family often. Must meditate on that, too. I'm certain my mind is trying to understand something subconsciously.
15th January
Providence has gifted me with a very intriguing opportunity to test just how much that magick that surrounded the city had influenced my thoughts and my passions.
