The deep medical lab smells of antiseptic, blooming jasmine, and the sharp, metallic tang of hot silicon.
I wake to the rhythmic, mechanical hiss of the ventilator and the steady, rapid beeping of the cardiac monitors. My left arm is still heavily bandaged, the nerve damage a dull, throbbing ache, but the blinding static that had clouded my vision during the override is gone. The neuro-blockers have done their job. My synapses are healing.
Margot is standing over me, adjusting the IV drip that pumps a heavy cocktail of caloric supplements and neuro-protectants into my bloodstream. Her face is drawn, her silver-streaked hair escaping its bun, but her eyes are bright with clinical awe.
"Your neural pathways are stabilizing," Margot says softly. "The telluric grounding held. The biological
