CHAPTER ONE HOSPITAL
Thales looked into his window. He saw his refection looking back at him. Exact copy of everyone of his movements. Examining his face. Examining his eyes his nose his lips and the way they moved together in unison to each other. One large machine. He flopped down onto his mattress. Staring at the ceiling and examining it was a daily pastime nowadays. There were so many things to see through it. Divots, rivets, and curves… It was kind of like looking at a women but not exactly considering it was made out of composite wood substitute. He yawned. He thought of the war. It was tough. His fractured knee hurt like hell. Damn muggle doctors… he thought hopelessly. His knee was "terminally infected". Whatever the hell that meant he knew it could be solved with a simple charm here or there. He slumped lower into his pillow. The certain had been drawn around him for some privacy. Good old privacy. He relaxed a bit and lit a cigarette. The smoke drifted up to the ceiling and slowly dissipated. Thales had a sly feeling as he smoked. He remembered the courtyard. Yes he wanted to be there. His wand was there. He was not the only wizard in the army. Some reason the damn officials had decided to help out some damn American folk. He knew that Hussein needed to be stopped but he had joined the army to be a simple photographer and had no idea that he would be thrust into a full fledged shooting match. A purple heart as a photographer, Thales shook his head. He blew out some smoke. Looking back his wand would have been useful but Cornelius would not have approved of using magic in front of hundreds of people. It was a ship as he knew it. He was on a ship. Persian Gulf was beautiful to snap at. He looked briefly disconcerted as he began to recall the rest of the memory. He sat upright and rested his head into his palms. Three bombs shot from the shore and hit the side of the ship. He remembered being knocked to his side as he hit the wall, his upper torso peering out of the open porthole. The ship was near enough to the shore that several people were leaping out of the ship. He sliced open a life preserver with his Swiss army knife and stuffed his camera in it. He leaped out of the side and hit the water softly. He began to wade slowly towards the shore as he watched men with guns blazing on deck trying to stop the militant Iraqis from taking it over. Suddenly he was grasped by two strong arms as he was dragged away from the ship. Thales shoved his cigarette into the dish. He didn't remember the last part. He had dreams about it though… terrible dreams. He remembered that he abandoned his camera and went for the ship trying to help the men on deck. He remembered that with the help of Colonel Harris he took out several Iraqis and regained the ship but had to evacuate several wounded men while being wounded himself out of the decaying ship. That was what he remembered but was it what happened? He began to light another cigarette.
It was night. He now looked not at himself in the window but the moon. He had remembered what the moon was like that night. Large and round just like tonight. One large machine. He knew it was not going to go away soon so he took this chance to stare at it. He held his glance slightly sideways as to look at it from a different angle. Then he lied down and looked at it. This seemed familiar, like a feeling in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes. He felt himself being carried away. That night he was carried away. He was no hero but merely a bystander. He had no memory of this. He still though harder and soon he felt as if he was getting close. The events were quick, one after another like flashing images. He opened his eyes. He had just seen his dream, his reoccurring dream, but as a memory instead of a dream. He slowly drew the binds closed. He was now remembering what had really happened. The question was where did the other memories come from.
Thales ate his breakfast slowly. Taking in each bite and savoring the strangly familiar flavor of whatever was in it. In the army they had served this shit. He remembered what his Colonel had said to him before. "The more you hate it the better it feels to shit it out..." It was considered deep philosophy for Harris. He was not too bright but a brilliant soldier and a leader by heart. He was a true hero. Unlike himself. Whatever really had happened he was not sure of but either memory seemed real now. Each seemed fanciful and strange. The certain was drwn open and a nurse came in. Julie was her name and Thales had his eye on her for a while now. She was slender and beautiful and Thales had gotten to know her well. He knew she was leaving soon. She drew the certain closed and climbed up to him and gave him a kiss on the lips. He grinned his toothy smile. Then he frowned and shifted his legs to provide room for Julie to seat next to him. She told him that she was leaving for Minnesota in the states. They talked for a while and then she had to leave to pack.
He was in the garden. He looked hat the small patch of dandilions which underneath lied his wand. He was going to get it when he got better. He was going to get it and get his own place on Daigon'. He was not going to stay here. Julie had left him. He knew that she wan't coming back because one of the nurses began chit-chatting with him about her being "permainetly transfered". He went and sat on the bench as he looked into the sunset. It was a mass of hydrogen and helium working to create a long lasting nuclear fusion reaction. One large machine. It was a big bright light bulb. He went back inside and flopped onto his bed. He engaged into another session of ceiling-watch. His eyes began to close. For ten minutes he was asleep. Then he sat bolt up.
What he had seen. What he had dreamed. He had dreamed about the sun. Then it was the bright round large moon. Then it turned into a light. The kind of light you saw when you stared up at the dentist. He was in a chair. An operating table surrounded by equipment. A crowd of doctors stood by the end of the room. Then he sat up. He was awake. He had just seen where he had been that night. He looked into the moon and saw the operating light inside. It stared up at him. Then he realized it was a face. Two harsh eyes looked into his as a small scaple was shoved into his arm. Thales screamed. He was not on the shore of Kuwait that night. He was in a hospital.
Reveiw.