Fudge Ripple #16, Plum #9
Author: winebabe
Title: Raw
Story: The Gemini Occurrence
Rating: PG-13
Flavor(s): Fudge Ripple #16: suspicion; Plum #9: outside the box
Word Count: 784
Summary: 2025. Devyn gets a dose of reality.
Notes: Devyn Lively. (Small piece amidst my NaNoWriMo panicking. Writing is hard!)
After a few drinks, everything seems easier. It's a bad habit he picked up from both his mother and his father, before their respective untimely demises at various points in his young adulthood, and one he hasn't ever tried to shake. Mona's right there with him, bottles and bottles of rum, both empty and full and everywhere in-between, scattered across her messy apartment. It's not something that ever concerned Devyn, though, because he and his sister both have much worse vices. Alcohol, at least, is legal, and neither of them are stupid enough to drink and drive.
So, Devyn drinks. He drinks all he can after weeks of sobriety at the hands of his doctors, and at the hands of his own fear regarding the surgery. The implant is in his brain, he's healing nicely, and after his first day back at work, he thinks he deserves a drink or two.
Or five. He's lying on his back, the world spinning noticeably around him while he remains still on his mattress. The only light in the room is from his laptop screen, and from when his phone lights up with a new notification from Twitter or his Facebook account. He can't move to look at them, though, because if he moves he might throw up. Worse, he might fall off of his bed if he gets too close to the edge, and his head is swimming in ways he hasn't experienced since he was much more of a lightweight.
Must be the pills, he thinks. Must be the implant. Must be something else.
Devyn reaches up to touch where he thinks the implant is situated, somewhere just above where they cut into him. He's not sure, though, because he vaguely remembers Dr. Wegner mentioning something about it traveling. At least, he thinks that's what the man had said.
He has to close his eyes, because trying to think and trying to keep the world still at the same time just isn't working for him. Instead, he basks in the darkness and the silence of his apartment and tries to just relax. Just breathe. The world inside his body and outside of his body become one; he's floating in a sea, in outer space, anywhere besides his bed in his apartment on the East Coast.
And then, suddenly, the sensation of something akin to a static shock from what feels like directly in the center of his brain forces Devyn to open his eyes. It's not painful, just startling, and he lies there for a long moment before finally reaching for his phone and typing into the Notes app, "Static shock in center of brain."
"That can't be good," he mutters aloud, dropping the phone back onto his mattress and cringing when he hears it bounce once and drop off onto the floor with a weak thud. "Shocks aren't good."
His heart has started to race, and to compensate, he tries to slow down his breathing. His laptop screen has dimmed, giving off only minimal light, and now Devyn can see the lights from nearby streets and businesses filtering in through the windows, casting eerie, moving shadows across the ceiling above him. It gives him something else to focus on, and by the time he counts the twentieth car passing on the street below, his heart rate has returned to normal. The sensation of the shock is still somewhere deep inside his brain, though, embedding itself in a disturbing memory that Devyn just can't shake.
There is a device inside his brain. There is some tiny piece of metal and plastic and wiring, and whatever else, floating around inside his cranial cavity and it could kill him. He knows it could kill him, because he signed a waiver stating that he was made aware of the possibility. He could die. He could die.
"Oh, shit." Devyn flattens his palms against his mattress, perfectly still otherwise, and closes his eyes. The spot behind his ear is throbbing now, and he wonders how long it has been and if he just noticed it then. He can't tell what's a sign, what's completely natural, and what he should get his ass to a hospital for. He knows that maybe he should go to the hospital, just in case, but the fact that whatever is inside of his brain is completely experimental stops him. Normal doctors won't know what to do besides take the thing out, and he's come too far for that. Stepping foot into the hospital that day was already too far to turn back, and so Devyn just closes his eyes and hopes that everything is okay. He really can't afford for it not to be.
Title: Raw
Story: The Gemini Occurrence
Rating: PG-13
Flavor(s): Fudge Ripple #16: suspicion; Plum #9: outside the box
Word Count: 784
Summary: 2025. Devyn gets a dose of reality.
Notes: Devyn Lively. (Small piece amidst my NaNoWriMo panicking. Writing is hard!)
After a few drinks, everything seems easier. It's a bad habit he picked up from both his mother and his father, before their respective untimely demises at various points in his young adulthood, and one he hasn't ever tried to shake. Mona's right there with him, bottles and bottles of rum, both empty and full and everywhere in-between, scattered across her messy apartment. It's not something that ever concerned Devyn, though, because he and his sister both have much worse vices. Alcohol, at least, is legal, and neither of them are stupid enough to drink and drive.
So, Devyn drinks. He drinks all he can after weeks of sobriety at the hands of his doctors, and at the hands of his own fear regarding the surgery. The implant is in his brain, he's healing nicely, and after his first day back at work, he thinks he deserves a drink or two.
Or five. He's lying on his back, the world spinning noticeably around him while he remains still on his mattress. The only light in the room is from his laptop screen, and from when his phone lights up with a new notification from Twitter or his Facebook account. He can't move to look at them, though, because if he moves he might throw up. Worse, he might fall off of his bed if he gets too close to the edge, and his head is swimming in ways he hasn't experienced since he was much more of a lightweight.
Must be the pills, he thinks. Must be the implant. Must be something else.
Devyn reaches up to touch where he thinks the implant is situated, somewhere just above where they cut into him. He's not sure, though, because he vaguely remembers Dr. Wegner mentioning something about it traveling. At least, he thinks that's what the man had said.
He has to close his eyes, because trying to think and trying to keep the world still at the same time just isn't working for him. Instead, he basks in the darkness and the silence of his apartment and tries to just relax. Just breathe. The world inside his body and outside of his body become one; he's floating in a sea, in outer space, anywhere besides his bed in his apartment on the East Coast.
And then, suddenly, the sensation of something akin to a static shock from what feels like directly in the center of his brain forces Devyn to open his eyes. It's not painful, just startling, and he lies there for a long moment before finally reaching for his phone and typing into the Notes app, "Static shock in center of brain."
"That can't be good," he mutters aloud, dropping the phone back onto his mattress and cringing when he hears it bounce once and drop off onto the floor with a weak thud. "Shocks aren't good."
His heart has started to race, and to compensate, he tries to slow down his breathing. His laptop screen has dimmed, giving off only minimal light, and now Devyn can see the lights from nearby streets and businesses filtering in through the windows, casting eerie, moving shadows across the ceiling above him. It gives him something else to focus on, and by the time he counts the twentieth car passing on the street below, his heart rate has returned to normal. The sensation of the shock is still somewhere deep inside his brain, though, embedding itself in a disturbing memory that Devyn just can't shake.
There is a device inside his brain. There is some tiny piece of metal and plastic and wiring, and whatever else, floating around inside his cranial cavity and it could kill him. He knows it could kill him, because he signed a waiver stating that he was made aware of the possibility. He could die. He could die.
"Oh, shit." Devyn flattens his palms against his mattress, perfectly still otherwise, and closes his eyes. The spot behind his ear is throbbing now, and he wonders how long it has been and if he just noticed it then. He can't tell what's a sign, what's completely natural, and what he should get his ass to a hospital for. He knows that maybe he should go to the hospital, just in case, but the fact that whatever is inside of his brain is completely experimental stops him. Normal doctors won't know what to do besides take the thing out, and he's come too far for that. Stepping foot into the hospital that day was already too far to turn back, and so Devyn just closes his eyes and hopes that everything is okay. He really can't afford for it not to be.