THE TERRAN INSURANCE POLICY
He remembered thinking how much more skin they were going to peel off his feet before he passed out, before they were over. Since then, five seconds past the time he awoke, he found himself there in the brown round room strapped upside down to a cold metal slab which was angled about 50 degrees, his feet being at the top. Any moment before the realization of the peeling had no existence to him: not who he was, where he came to be, or the memory of his life came to mind. He found himself no one, who was no where, with nothing to think about but why he was incarnated into this situation.
His feet stung…hard and he could tell all skin was gone from its needed space. “I can’t walk,” he thought; of course, he couldn’t even move but that was secondary to the thought of pain when he imagined his skinned feet touching the floor and then the spike of jealousy. The knife of fascination cut into his pounding mind. The brilliance he saw of his captures actions was so clear and simple that he couldn’t think of any other next step but to shake whose ever hand had ordered this and swear allegiance to them.
He felt his head bulging with blood…taste it…yes he could. Down the back of his esophagus and in the sinus membrane, images of large gross ticks latched inside a stray dogs’ ear. Yes, that’s the likeness he tied to his head. Sick, he added in thought, getting sick… “Getting Sick,” he said aloud for no known reason, instinct maybe to notify the world around him of his first needed point to share. If a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it…I’m falling was his impression of this new coming feeling. “I’m getting sick of falling upside down I am.” The blood was soaking his brain as the feeling clotted his vision with white twinkling spots that popped and fleeted before the oncoming fade out to blackness sent him back into unconsciousness.