The first thing Leo noticed when he woke up was the silence. It wasn't the heavy, pressurized silence of the Simex pod, nor was it the quiet hum of the Arcadia garage.
This silence was clean, broken only by the rhythmic, electronic beep of a heart monitor and the distant squeak of rubber soled shoes on linoleum.
He opened his eyes slowly. The ceiling was a flat, clinical white. Fluorescent lights hummed softly above him. He tried to move his hand, but it felt heavy, as if it were made of lead. A thin plastic tube was taped to the back of his left hand, leading to a bag of clear fluid hanging from a metal pole.
"You're finally awake."
The voice was sharp, authoritative, yet underpinned by a tremor of worry that she couldn't quite hide. Leo turned his head. His neck didn't grind like rusted iron this time; it moved smoothly, though his muscles felt strangely soft.
