So, theoretically, I was in good enough shape to walk out. I was dizzy, but after a while it subsided and I got up, gripping the rail at the head of the bed, and I took my first step. I winked back at them and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. It was dark outside and a handful of stars were standing naked beyond the window. It took me a real effort, as my muscles were very tired. Good enough to hold me up, though I didn't know how much time had lapsed since their breaking-and I knew they'd been broken. But I had first been in a hospital and then brought to this place, I remembered. What had happened after that was still a blur and as to what had happened before, I had no inkling whatsoever. I had been in some sort of accident, I remembered vaguely. She went away.īy then, I'd reconstructed a bit of what had occurred. So play it cool and stay dopey, said a voice which was my worst, if wiser, self.Ī nurse poked her head in the door about ten minutes later, and I was, of course, still sacking Z's. No real reason for it, from the way I felt, and no reason for them to stop now, if they'd been paid to keep it up. I'd been over-narcotized, I suddenly knew. Some natural skepticism as to the purity of all human motives came and sat upon my chest. The thought came to assail me: Maybe not. Now, though, I was feeling halfway decent. Every time things would begin to clear a bit, someone would come in and jab me with something. I recalled nights and nurses and needles. Then the fogs were slowly broken, and some of that which is called memory returned to me. I squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them, three times. I was sprawled there in a hospital bed and my legs were done up in plaster casts, but they were still mine. I attempted to wriggle my toes, succeeded. It was starting to end, after what seemed most of eternity to me.

Nine princes in amber by roger zelazny