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Published by Dwayne Albert Bearup at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Dwayne Albert Bearup


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Fifth Day, Third Week, Tenth L.C., 531 P.A:

My nanites woke me at two a.m., their tiny bodies crowding the blood vessels in my eyelids and glowing until it was impossible to sleep. The glow was so bright that when I opened my eyes the ceiling was clearly visible above me, despite the night blindness induced by the nanites’ alarm. Into my wrist interface I keyed the question of why they had woken me so early, then closed my eyes to await their response.

The alarm glow had faded enough so that when their answer scrolled across my closed eyelids I had no trouble reading it: “A troublesome increase in respiration and heart rate coupled with increased nocturnal muscular contractions and a distinct rise in core body temperature. Diagnosis: Dengue Fever. Remedy: medical isolation recommended pending formal medical examination by Doctor Turner. How do you feel, Mister Brock?”

Distinctly non-fevered, thank you.” I refrained from cursing the nanites in my response. It never made me feel better, because it never offended them. “You’re mistaken about my ailment. It was just a dream.”

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