Jon's head was on fire. Every nerve in his skull was screaming at the top of its lungs. His life flashed before his eyes, but so did other things. Some of the memories weren't his. A handful sat on the surface, showing things he did not remember doing and people who were almost recognizable.
But deep down, under the ones that were new, beneath the ones he could remember, there were tottally foreign ones. He heard languages that weren't English and saw things that weren't familiar, but they all made perfect sense to him.
Out of frustration, Jon tried to scream. But he couldn't, even though his brain burned from the nerve impulses firing nonestop, none seemed to want to leave his head.
Wait. There were threads. Thin lines of energy, a tenuous link between his head and his lungs, his heart could be felt. Using this, Jon traced out the shape of his nervous system. He calmed the firestorm in his head by dispersing it throughout his body.
Now Jon felt pain all throughout his body, but he felt his body in ways other than that. He felt aware of each organ, in some way or another, and felt direct control over them all. Jon was worried by another fact though, even the parts o him he always felt, they were oddly shaped, responding in unusuall ways.
Jon marshalled his strength and concentrated on his eyes and ears. He started with his ears. Slowly, he felt his brain process the information starting to pour in from his eardrum.
"Sir," a voice said distantly,slowly,Jon could only just make it out.
"Sir," the voice came again, suddenly with a sharpness and clarity Jon was not familiar with, he could glean details from sound he never imagined.
"This one is awake. My God, all of them. Call Doctor Pondstock immediatly. Seargent, that one over there, keep her restrained. Tell the perimiter guards to get their gear on." Another muffled voice called called out across the room.
A clunk of boots rushed past, the whir of an air filter receded into the background. Jon felt his mind solidify into a place of words and ideas.
What's going on? He remembered a green flash, than the desk slamming into his face, and than things went...abstract.
With intense concentration he opened his eyes. He stared up at the fluroescent lighting of the gymnasium. Why was he here?
Having moved one muscle, he found it easier to twist his neck enough that he could let gravity point it towards the source of the noise. Students were lying still all over but in a few spots motion was occuring where people in orange suits with helmets struggled to fasten leather straps around the limbs of some struggling students.
A pair of suited figures rolled a struggling student by on a bed. Jon looked into the eyes of the student being rolled past. They were his eyes. The student was Jon. Or at least his body.
He had to find out what was going on.
Concentraiting on his fingers he had them twitching and was planing on moving on to bigger things when Jon heard a voice from behind.
"Oh no you don't little miss,"
As the needle sunk into her new butt, Jon was left wondering one thing:
What did he call me?
