Nightshift 47: M111-M120 Hallway
[From here, now in M114.]
Nondescript room, sweet room.
When they entered his room, Edward wondered if this was what a human would feel like coming home from a day of work. A fatigued body, stumbling steps, and a journey to sink into the bed made easier only by the promise of said furniture and a period of rest. He now knew what it was like to feel tired, and he could understand why so many complained of it. A hundred years ago, he must have felt this before - perhaps after some sporting event he was doubtlessly engaged in, or a full day of schooling - but those human memories were all but gone in the wind. He had forgotten what it was like to feel lactic acid stiffen muscles. Hell, he'd almost forgotten what pain felt like. Raw, physical pain. It was hard to accumulate scrapes and bruises when your body was nearly immune to every potential injury.
It was very human. He quite enjoyed it, actually, except for all the blood that was going to stain his sheets.
Because, as he'd promised himself, when he was close enough to do so he did flop onto his bed, smothering his face with the pillow and letting that last movement's jolt of pain settle neatly into his bones. The two empty trays of food from dinner had been removed, so Edward was confident the nurses wouldn't complain about a bit of blood staining. They might even be able to convince themselves it was from the gelato.
"This is nice," he dumbly commented into the pillow. He didn't think the bed agreed with all of its groaning, but the sound was comforting to him anyway.
Nondescript room, sweet room.
When they entered his room, Edward wondered if this was what a human would feel like coming home from a day of work. A fatigued body, stumbling steps, and a journey to sink into the bed made easier only by the promise of said furniture and a period of rest. He now knew what it was like to feel tired, and he could understand why so many complained of it. A hundred years ago, he must have felt this before - perhaps after some sporting event he was doubtlessly engaged in, or a full day of schooling - but those human memories were all but gone in the wind. He had forgotten what it was like to feel lactic acid stiffen muscles. Hell, he'd almost forgotten what pain felt like. Raw, physical pain. It was hard to accumulate scrapes and bruises when your body was nearly immune to every potential injury.
It was very human. He quite enjoyed it, actually, except for all the blood that was going to stain his sheets.
Because, as he'd promised himself, when he was close enough to do so he did flop onto his bed, smothering his face with the pillow and letting that last movement's jolt of pain settle neatly into his bones. The two empty trays of food from dinner had been removed, so Edward was confident the nurses wouldn't complain about a bit of blood staining. They might even be able to convince themselves it was from the gelato.
"This is nice," he dumbly commented into the pillow. He didn't think the bed agreed with all of its groaning, but the sound was comforting to him anyway.