The weight of my body felt like a punishment.
After the weightlessness—after being without containment—returning to flesh was like being shoved into a drop pod three sizes too small. My lungs burned with each breath. The air tasted recycled, metallic, with that flat quality of atmosphere that had been scrubbed through too many filters.
"So what do you remember seeing after you died?"
The individual standing over me was medium-height, hairless, and clinically dressed in plain grey scrubs that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Non-binary, no-polarity. Their eyes reflected too much light, suggesting optical augmentation, possibly full replacement.
I blinked against the photonic panels overhead, each one a small white sun that made my eyes water.
"I'm not sure," I managed. My voice came out hoarse. "I was in a clearing. Green grass with dandelions coming up through it. Springtime, I think. There were trees at the edges. Oak maybe, or maple. It all felt..." I searched for the word. "Connected."
"I see."
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