Mind Chatter

I was lying on the ground, looking at the men gathered around me. Though I tried to keep my eyes open, my vision was blurry. Even through their hazy figures, I could tell they were anxious. From the shoulder plates of his armor and the silhouette of his long hair, I recognized my commander Keon leaning over me. I could see his mouth moving, but all I heard was an endless ringing sound.

"You're a disgrace." 

I felt ashamed. I tried to stand up, lifting my head as high as I could, but I couldn't feel my body. I must have been lying there for a long time. I was cold, my body shaking. While my arms and shoulders trembled, everything below my chest felt oddly warm and wet. I thought they were playing another prank on me—I must have fallen asleep during watch again. They must have called Commander Keon this time to teach me a harsher lesson.

"You can't do anything right."

"Leave him alone. He's doing his best."

I couldn't identify who these voices belonged to. Though I could lift my head slightly, that was all I could manage. I tried to say "Commander!" but no sound came from my mouth. Commander Keon grabbed my shoulders and brought his face close.

"-ere?"

The commander was saying something, but I couldn't understand—I couldn't come to my senses. Why? Commander Keon shook me by the shoulders, and my vision cleared slightly.

"Where are they?"

Where are they? Who is he asking about? Was I with someone? Did I let someone escape? What if things went terribly wrong because of me? What would I do then? Think... Think...

"The only thing you've been doing for a long time."

"Where are they, tell me!"

I've disgraced my commander and my unit. Now I'll get up and explain what happened, take my punishment, and never make the same mistake again. I'll be better.

"Another promise that won't be kept."

"Commander, I'm not sure he can hear you. We need to go. Maybe if we split up and search for tracks, we can find where they went."

It must have been Lorry speaking. His face was blurry because he was far away, but I recognized his voice. Still, I didn't understand what they were talking about.

"Sir, I can't keep him alive much longer, you need to hurry!"

A woman's voice—I didn't know where it came from or who it belonged to. I scanned the area and noticed the starless, dark sky behind my commander. Stars seemed to be falling frequently—too frequently to be normal.

"She reminds me of her..."

"Don't start that now."

I looked down at my body. Why couldn't I feel anything? Then I saw it—the lower part of my chest was missing. So that's why I couldn't feel anything. I was dying. The woman whose voice I had heard was using some strange machine on me, unlike anything I'd seen before.

My commander asked once more where they were. I wanted to answer but couldn't speak. He let go of my shoulders, and my head fell to the ground.

"Remove that device. Let's try it on the others."

"Just take it off."

No, don't remove the device! If you remove it, I'll die, won't I? I can't die yet—I promised my family I'd return. I glanced at the woman from the corner of my eye. Though I couldn't tell if she was looking at me, I saw her hand was close to mine. Maybe if I touched it, she'd understand I wanted to live.

"Or you just wanted to touch a woman's hand in the pathetic final moments of your life."

"Not pathetic, it was a modest life. Don't worry, If we were born again, I would spend my entire life with you again."

Using my remaining strength, I tried to reach for her with my right hand. I think I moved it. Commander, look... Please... I have a daughter...

"Had."

Despite my sincerity, my words hadn't reached my commander. Suddenly everything went dark. I felt nothing. It was like being conscious in a dream. And what were these voices in my head?

"He's really starting to lose it! Now he thinks he's hearing voices in his head!" laughed one of the voices mockingly.

I didn't know who these voices belonged to. I couldn't even feel the limbs I knew remained—it was as if my body had ceased to exist. I wasn't lying down or floating; I simply was. But one voice seemed familiar, as if I'd spoken with him countless times before. That man's voice seemed to be healing me somehow.

"I don't know how much longer I can hold the others. You need to hurry up and wake!"

That man's voice again... Whoever you are, if you can hear me, help me! I'm afraid of dying. I don't know what awaits me. I haven't seen my family for weeks. I don't want to spend even an hour without them.

"They don't want to spend even a second with you!" spoke a angry man's voice.

"After some time, sensation returned. I felt the cold, ice-cold air on my skin. And when I opened my eyes, I was here. That's everything I remember. Can you tell me what's happening? How did I get here? How am I alive?"

He had skipped the things he remembered but couldn't say out of shame—like the voices in his head and his cowardly thoughts.

"How do you feel right now? Are you experiencing headache, nausea, blurred vision, ringing in your ears, erection?"

The white-coated, blonde, bespectacled woman sat at her desk, filling out a paper with her hand on her chin.

"No, I don't have anything. Will you answer me now?" said the man with tired eyes. Like he just woke up from a really long sleep.

"Do you remember your family, your name, or what you did for work? Any information would do."

"I have a wife and a daughter..." The man fell silent, scratching his unkempt beard.

"Very good. Do you know how long you've been dead?" The woman, whose eyes had been on her paper until then, looked at him for the first time. Exhaustion showed beneath her black eyes.

The man pondered this serious question. No definite answer came to mind.

"1 week?" he said modestly, not wanting to exaggerate.

"I see."

The man noticed she had reached the end of her paper. Just as he thought 'Finally my questions will begin' she pulled out another form. There were at least three more.

He sighed heavily with irritation and impatience. Rising from what looked like an operating table, his feet touched the ground with a metallic 'tink'sound. He noticed his feet were made of metal and panicked.

He rolled up his white sweatpants and saw the metal continued up his legs.

"Don't worry, when I'm done there won't really be any difference," said the woman, noticing his concern.

"How much of my body is like this?" His hands began to sweat.

"Eighty-six percent." said the woman with unsettling calmness.

"How... How did I survive?"

The woman set down her pen. She leaned back in her chair and gazed at the ceiling. After a moment's reflection, she leaned forward again.

"I don't know why or how you died. To be frank, I don't know who you are either. There are things I can't explain yet. The information I can share is limited and classified. Know this much: you're someone important."

He thought it wasn't enough. Everything she said only raised more questions.

"Let's continue one by one and slowly. Where am I, what is this place?"

"I can't tell you exactly where you are, but you're in an infirmary."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Everything I tell you has been pre-approved by my superiors. To tell you more, I need to take notes of your answers, assess your health condition, complete these papers, and report to them. If you help me, everything will be resolved faster."

All the man could do was nod helplessly.

It took about an hour to complete the papers. The woman asked questions to evaluate his memory, logic, and psychological state. After a brief physical and reflex test, they finished the paperwork.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

The man worried about the voices he'd heard earlier. But since he'd heard them while dying, perhaps this happened to everyone who died. The voices had stopped since he awoke. He felt no need to mention them.

He shook his head, and the woman filed the papers and left without another word. He remained alone in the modest, white-painted room with its strange equipment.

Though he couldn't remember anything, including his name, some technical knowledge remained. He could recognize standard medical devices, factory machines, and everyday electronics. But none of the machines here looked familiar. This deeply troubled him. How could he not recognize these seemingly simple devices? It was as if his memory had selective gaps. Why could he remember some things clearly while others were completely blank? Most importantly, if he had truly died—which he was certain of—how could he still alive? These questions echoed in his mind as he studied the unfamiliar technology, searching for answers. But no matter how long he looked, he found none. Could it be... Had it been more than a week?

His heart raced, his palms sweated. His body trembled. Fear gripped him. His breathing became difficult as he fell to his knees. He felt ashamed of his fear.

"Calm down, everything will be fine."

That man's voice again. Though he didn't know who this familiar voice belonged to, his words seemed to help."

"Take a deep breath in and out. We don't need to frighten ourselves over things we can't control. You'll be fine. You always have been."

He steadied himself through controlled breathing. Placing his hand over his heart as he stood up. At that moment, two people entered the room.