Fanfiction: Future and Progress
Title: Future

Pairing: None, gen.

Words: Around 1000.

Characters: Dean, mentions of Sam, OC (Lori)

Rating: PG-13.

Notes/Warnings: Blind!Dean 'verse. Takes place afterVolunteering Work and Problems and Solutions and before Everyday Life. All can be found in my profile.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing in Kripke's sand box.

Summary: Dean is about to leave the hospital.

Feedback: You review, I write. You don't review…well, I still write, but I'll be most unhappy.

At the present rate of progress, it is almost impossible to imagine any technical feat that cannot be achieved - if it can be achieved at all - within the next few hundred years.- Arthur C. Clarke, 1983

During his stay at the hospital, Dean often thought about moles. Like him, they lived in darkness. Unlike him, they didn't seem to mind. He kept wanting to ask someone to turn on the freakin' lights already, because it just wasn't funny anymore, and never was. He couldn't even walk on his own now, even though his legs were perfectly healthy and functioning. Eating had become a challenge.

Not that he needed to do any of those on his own. Sam was always there, ready to help. He ate hospital food and slept on a mattress in Dean's room at first, until Dean kicked him out and told him to go find a half-decent motel.

Sam was in Vegas now, though, putting his newly found superpower into good use.
That was weird. Not just the telekinesis thing, but...Sam didn't brood or talked about his supposedly Dark Destiny anymore. He just seemed to…accept it. Dean wasn't sure if it was the fact that they had gotten rid of The Demon, or that Sam didn't want to add his own problems to Dean's. Maybe Sam realized Dean couldn't help anyone in his current situation.

Dean put his hands on the pillow behind his head, fingers laced together. He was about to be released in less than a week, blind as a bat, and not even a sonar system to compensate his lack of sight. Then there were the scars. He had two deep, wide scars that crossed his face, and he knew, without being told, that he was no longer considered handsome. The nurses kept talking to him like his injury sent him back to the mental age of five, and Lori…Lori came in twice a week, and was yet to flirt with him. They had conversations, for God's sake. They talked about movies and books and world news, and if anyone was to film their sessions and show them to the world, the movie wouldn't have been rated over PG-13. It was like…friendship, Dean supposed. He never had a female friend before.

Dean had a knife at the bottom of his bag. The bag was nearby; he wouldn't even have to try too much to find it.He didn't, though; instead, he reached and felt around the nightstand for his MP3 player, just to stop thinking so damn hard.

Because of Sam's absence, Lori came in Sunday instead of Monday, and they finished another story from Impossible Things.

"I'm telling you, staking vampires is not the way to go. You have to cut off their heads to get rid of those bastards."

"Come on. You know it's not about the right way to kill a vampire. It's about the way the war changes people. It's possible that Jack was completely human."

"That girl died from loss of blood. He lied about his day job. He always disappeared before the sun rose. I think the other guy did the right thing."

"Well, to each his own," said Lori. "By the way, what is it with taking off vampires' heads? I thought staking is kind of the norm in vampire stories." Dean could hear her closing her book.

"Then the idiots who write those stories have to research better." grumbled Dean. He had heard about 'artistic license' and all that, but come on, research was important.

"Were you about to write a book before the accident?" Asked Lori.

"A book?" repeated Dean. Where did that come from? "No. What made you say that?"

"It's just that you seem to know a lot about mythologies and urban legends," said Lori. "I thought you might have been researching them."

Dean shook his head. "No. It's just, um, a hobby of mine. Used to be, anyway."

"Used to be? When did you give it up?" Lori sounded surprised.

"Well, my…reading days are pretty much over." No more hunting for him. Blind and useless.

"Is your optic nerve damaged?" Asked Lori, her tone business-like.

Ha? "No, I don't think so…but it doesn't matter. My retina is pretty much gone."

"Yeah, but you don't see just with your eyes, you also see with your brain… and eyes are easier to replace," Lori sounded excited, "I remember reading in Scientific American about an experiment – basically, a camera replaces your eyes. They implant a small chip in your eye socket, and the camera transmits to it. From there it goes to the optic nerve. It's all very Star Trek."

Hope. Sort of. It was just an experiment, after all. That thing probably cost six million dollars on its own.

"You said it's experimental. It could be a long time before anything comes out of it, and even then it's going to be expensive."

He refused to get all excited, just to be disappointed later.

"The guy who runs the experiment said something about 2009," said Lori. "You won't be able to read, but you'll apparently be able to see at about 60 pixels level. It's supposed to cost about thirty thousand dollars."

60 pixels. A lot better than zero. Thirty thousand bucks were alot, though.

"That's…really good. Expensive, though" said Dean.

"Yep," Lori agreed, "but I'm sure the your medical insurance will cover at least part of the price."

Dean sighed inwardly. Medical insurance wasn't much help for him.

"Listen, I have to go. I'll come by on Thursday, ok?"

Oh, shit, he forgot to tell her. "Umm, I won't be here. They're releasing me." He tried to smile.

"Took them long enough...you're probably going nuts here. But the project is a year long, you know, so I'll keep coming even after you're out of the this place, if that's ok. "

"That's great," Dean assured her. Assuming they'll even stick around

"Where are you guys going to live?"

Dean had no clue; and yeah, he going nuts there, but he wasn't sure that the outside would be any different.

"I'm…not sure yet. I'll call you and let you know. You might even get some time off, you know. Until we're settled." Or she'd get someone knew to read for, because they'd be on the road again, on their way to leech off Bobby.

Dean heard a zipper being opened and closed, which meant Lori was putting the book back in her bag.

"I'll call you later this week," she promised, "and don't worry, I don't mind coming over, no matter where you're moving."

Was South Dakota included?

"Thanks."

"No problem."

After the door was closed, Dean leaned back in his bed, biting his lower lip.

Sixty pixels, and only a few years to wait.

-END-
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