First feeling that came upon John Ramos is the rigid complexity of his back. Frozen in time. As if someone recently pulled him from the reefer. With every second that is passing, John can feel every nerve end spring to action. One million and one needles pricking him on his back. Next it’s his vision. He can not open his eyes yet because the eyelids feel shut tight against the skin of his upper cheeks. But he can see. He can make out the dark red or purple hue that penetrates our eyes when we close our eyelids anytime that a strong light pierces our vision. That is a good sign. So far there is light. Solid matter on his back… powerful lights to create a hue… John is deducing that he is being held captive in some type of a warehouse. Next item in the body’s checklist of prickling feelings manifests itself on his extremities. The fingertips begin to prick. then it moves over to the cuticles, alongside the fingers and the back of the hands.
The torture is just getting started with him, though. As the feeling returns to the heel of his hands, prickling multiplies horrendously. The heels are on fire. Oh god. If John could only open his eyes.
If John ever broke his atheist beliefs, now is the right time. Somewhere up there. Deep in the vastness of the abundant universe, the higher being that governs our lives answered to John’s woes and enabled him to open his eyes. First it was the powerful halogen lights overhead. The happiness of getting his vision back turns out to be short lived because John realized that the overhead lights are too powerful for his comfort.
He is forced to squint hard so the smallest percentage of light penetrates his recently awaken vision as he takes his surroundings for the first time. He turns his head right and sees the weirdest version of a kitchen set up. Below the countertop there was a long cooler with three or four doors. Just like the ones that adorn the back of the house on every deli restaurant. Weirdly though, together with the counter top it created one unit. Every inch of the surface seems to be impeccably polished and shines against the overhead lights.
As John scans above the countertop, he finds some strange machinery… A cast iron tiny cabinet with thin shelves. Next to the cabinet there is a strange microwave oven. As a second thought, it looks more like an autoclave. What the hell is this place? Even the blender does not look normal. It has two long cables protruding out of it. All the forced stretching is getting John dizzy. He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds so he can get his bearings right again. After all, in his field, success is reached by strong focus and mental precision. Both require a well calibrated brain.
To be continued….