12
The man said that her eyes would take a couple weeks to heal, so she resigned herself to staying in the little room at least that long. It had begun to feel like home.
The days became one, which made sense given that no daylight reached her. She recalled reading that people actually had an imperfectly calibrated circadian rhythm; in a world without light it would drift, disconnected from all conceptions of day or night.
While eating lunch she considered that it could be midnight and she would never know.
For perhaps the thousandth time she wondered if her companions were living the strange, lonely, medical vacation she was. The complex was clearly massive, though she’d never seen any other patients. Guests?
Prisoners?
Sometimes she was certain Bea had been rejected; other times sh
