Gasping, heaving, his lungs filling with cold air; the electric shock ran up his spine and his first thoughts froze before they could formulate, dominated by the sheer sensation of it all. He was alive all at once and his every nerve screamed signals to his brain. What? Who? Where? What?
"Holy shit," something said. He opened his eyes - feeling it, feeling his eyelids slid across the lens, feeling the burn of grey daylight searing into his retinas, and then the bright glow of luminous blue flitting above him like a living torch. A drone, white-shelled and finned, its pinions shifting like so many eyelashes about an iris core. "It worked. It worked. Look at you, breathing and blinking and all that icky stuff. A big decaying pile of biomass, that's what you are. Oh you are adorable."
He stared at it. What else was he to do? What did people normally do in this case?
"But you're going to get filthy. C'mon, sit up." The drone lowered itself - it sounded... like a person. A woman. Human? Was there someone on the other side? Someone controlling it remotely?
He sat up. His back ached. That was a thing, apparently. His spine didn't like the ground very much. It was cold and uneven and hard. He straightened, looked around - and sorely wished he hadn't because the first thing he saw were the bones. Peeking through the grass, from beneath scraps of clothes and under stray rubble. So many bones. He counted a dozen skulls at least, all splayed out in the open. Some of the skeletons were almost intact, contorted... horribly. Like they were in pain. Or had been. Little late for that, he reflected.
But why-
Wait. Wait a damn moment. He frowned, confused, and asked, "Who am I?"
The drone shrugged with its sidemost pinions. "How should I know? You, uh, got anything on you?"
On him? He looked down at himself, at his strange clothes, and he rummaged through his many pockets - coming up with a a black leather wallet full of... things. Papery things mostly, but some were plastic cards. He pulled it all out, clumsily scattering them on the ground and over his lap, and he picked up one that looked important. PASSPORT, it said. NAME: IKHAROS. SURNAME: TORSTIL. There was a little emblem next to it, a blue field with a black kite. Below that, in glittering gold, read: CITIZEN OF THE FREE THERMOS-POLITY OF CAER LERION. SURRENDER THIS TO NEAREST ORBIT-EMBASSY IF LOST.
"That you?" the drone inquired.
"I don't... I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know much about anything right now."
"Er, right. Okay. I mean the face matches."
Did it? He supposed the little picture looked familiar enough - thin face, auburn hair, grey eyes and the sunless pallor of someone who'd grown up in a cave. He looked over the rest of the contents, most of which was just inane numbers, but the PLACE OF BIRTH read as CAER LERION. Which... seemed to make sense if he was apparently a citizen. But why didn't he remember that?
Why couldn't he remember anything?
"Where are we?" he asked, eager to fill in the blanks.
"Hm?" The drone perked up. "Oh this is London."
"London."
"Yeah. Capital of the United Kingdom - when that was a thing at least. It's not much now. Still pretty enough I guess, uh... yeah. Welcome to London."
He studied the card a moment longer, but everything was so confusing. "This doesn't say how old I am. The dates-"
"Five minutes," the drone supplied.
"Excuse me?" He looked at it. Her. It was a her, he decided. "What do you mean? I'm five minutes old?"
"Yep."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Why not?"
"Because..." He drew a blank. "It doesn't. I'm not a child. I'm not a baby."
"Well, you were bones until I came along, so yeah, five minutes and counting. And you so are a baby." The drone hovered close. "I'm Ghost. Your Ghost."
"What?" He frowned. "I'm Ghost too?"
"No, I mean, I'm... I'm your Ghost."
"You're my spirit?" The frown deepened. He felt it was applicable.
"No, stop it; I'm the Ghost for you. You were dead and now you're not."
"What?"
"Yeah, that's basically my job description. The big orb said so."
"What?"
The drone snorted. "Just joking. She hasn't told me jack."
"So... I wasn't dead?" he asked warily.
"Huh? No, you were definitely dead. I meant- Nevermind. I'm a Ghost. I'm the Ghost who's here for you - don't ask why, it's just a feeling. You and I, we got lucky. You were dead, now you're alive and I'm here to keep you that way."
"Why?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"Well I don't know anything," he complained. "What the hell is this? Who am I? What-"
"Your name is Ikharos," she told him.
"What?"
"It says there on your passport. Ikharos Torstil. You're from one o' them orbital cities. Definitely have the look of it, big beanpole you. Like some freaky stick insect." The drone looked him up and down. "But hey, you'll do."
"Do for what?" he- Ikharos asked urgently.
The drone flew beside him as if to cozy up to his shoulder. "That's the big mystery, isn't it? What do I mean, you might ask? Well, Ikharos buddy, my good man, I'll tell you what: I have no freakin' idea. And that's the beauty of it."
"Huh?"
"I'm as clueless as you are from here on out. Get?"
"But-"
"Get?" the drone pressed.
Ikharos gave her a lost look.
"You're supposed to say 'get' back. It means you understand."
"I don't."
"Join the club." The drone pitched upwards. "Look, I'll give you a rundown, but can we get outta here? I don't want to catch a mold on my pretty shell. You're all the disgusting I need."
"Wow. Thanks."
