Chapter 3

Tick... Tock...

''No, no, no, no, no!'' The words screamed in his head as the dreaded ticking returned. Panic gripped him as he feared being trapped in the same hellish loop once more. His eyes shot open, and he stared at the clock with a newfound horror. The hands were again exactly at 14:15, the same time the loop had always started.

He felt the urge to scream, to shatter the silent prison that had engulfed him again. Instead, he let out a stratangled cry, his body seizing up with fear. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, as the clock's unyielding rhythm hammered into his consciousness.

Tick..

With trembling fists, he lunged at the clock, desperation fueling his every movement. His knuckles connected with the cold metal frame, sending a jolt of pain up his arm. The clock's face remained unmarred, the hands continuing their ceaseless march. He stared at his hand, expecting blood, expecting something to change. But there was nothing. No blood, no change in the clock's relentless ticking.

He slammed his fist into the clock again, the pain bringing a semblance of reality to the room. The clock's ticking grew louder, echoing through his skull like a drumbeat of despair. His vision blurred, and he felt the cold sweat of panic prickling his skin.

But as he pulled back for one final punch, something within him shifted. It was as if a gear had clicked into place, a sudden realization that he was not back in that looping hellhole but a dream. And in this dream, he was a god.

With a roar, he threw the punch with every ounce of strength he could muster. The clock face shattered like a mirror in a horror film, the shards of glass exploding outwards in a glittering shower. As the glass rained down, each shard began to twist and change, morphing into a kaleidoscope of sorts.

One shard grew, swirling with the image of him walking out of a massive, gleaming skyscraper, the name 'St Cardis Hospital' emblazoned across the top in gleaming chrome letters. The doors hissed shut behind him, cutting off the sterile whiteness of the medical bay and revealing the vibrant chaos of a futuristic cityscape. The air was alive with the hum of hovering vehicles, the chatter of pedestrians, and the distant throb of a metropolis that never slept. The sun was a fiery ball of red, sinking into the horizon, painting the sky with hues of purple and gold.

Another shard grew more insistent, showing him standing on the edge of a balcony, the wind tugging at his hair as he stared down at the bustling streets below. The neon lights from the skyscrapers reflected in the puddles, creating a dance of color that seemed to pulse in time with the rhythm of the city's heartbeat. The smell of rain mixed with the faint scent of food from the street vendors, an intoxicating blend that seemed to whisper of life and freedom.

The shard grew larger, enveloping him in the scene, and he felt the cold, wet breeze on his face, the smells grew stronger, the sounds of the city louder. He reached out to touch the glass, his fingertips grazing the surface, and suddenly he was there, the chilly metal of the railing cold against his palms.

Viktor stepped back, his heart racing as he took in the view. The city was alive, a sprawling mass of steel and glass that stretched as far as the eye could see. He had never seen anything so... alive. The buildings grew taller, the lights brighter, and the sounds of a world that didn't revolve around the ticking of a clock surrounded him. It was overwhelming, but he felt a spark of excitement in his chest that he hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity.

As he leaned over the railing, taking in the sights and sounds of the world that lay before him, he felt a sharp pain in his palm. He had gripped the metal so tightly that he hadn't noticed the jagged edge cutting into his skin. Blood began to well up, a stark crimson against the silver-white metal.

Feeling the pain, Viktor looked around. The wind whispering sweet nothings of a world he had never seen, the glass grew colder, the scene around him fading like an old photograph left in the sun. The buildings began to warp and bend, the colors draining away, leaving only the starkness of his room. The scents of rain and food were replaced by the antiseptic stench of the medical bay.

Viktors eyes snapped open, the cityscape retreating like a mirage in the desert. He looked around franticly only to settle down once he realised that he was back in reality. Back in the medical bay, surrounded by the cold steel and white walls.

After a few moments, the shock of the vision dissipated, leaving Viktor's heart pounding in his chest. He looked down at his hand, expecting to see the shard of glass still in his grasp, but his palm was empty. His mind raced, trying to piece together what he had just seen. Was it a memory, a premonition, or a trick of his tired brain?

The door to the medical bay hissed open, and Dr. Castellanos walked in, her footsteps echoing in the sterile silence. She looked at him with a concerned expression, noticing his distress. "Mr. Gunter, how are you feeling?"

Viktor took a deep breath, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. "I... I had a dream," he murmured, still trying to shake off the lingering shock. "It was so real."

The door hissed open again, and a new figure entered the medical bay. The man was older, with a gentle stoop to his shoulders and a face etched with the lines of time. He wore a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows and a bow tie that seemed to be from another era. His eyes, a soft brown, searched the room until they found Viktor.

"Ah, you're awake," he said, his voice a comforting rumble. "I'm Dr. Harland, the hospital's head of psychology. I've been waiting to speak with you." He approached the biobed, his gait steady despite his age. His hand, when he offered it, was warm and firm. "Do you remember anything from before your accident, Mr. Gunter?"

Viktor took a moment to gather his thoughts, the vividness of the dream still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. "No," he finally replied, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Its like... a gap. I mean, I know I can't eat stones, or fly, or breathe underwater. That stuff all feels like common sense." Viktors eyes searched the doctor's face, looking for any signs of understanding or impatience. "But everything else... its all... gone. I didn't even know my own name."

Dr. Harland nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's not uncommon for patients who've been in cryosleep for extended periods to experience memory loss. Your brain has been in a state of suspended animation, and it can take time to rebuild the neural pathways. But fear not, Mr. Gunter. We have treatments, therapies, that can help you recall your past. It's a process, but together, we'll get there."

He paused, studying the man before him with a keen eye. "Let's focus on your coma. Can you tell me anything you remember while you were under?"

Viktor took a deep breath, the sound of the clock in his mind growing louder. "The... the ticking," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "It was all I had. Tick... tock... tick... tock. It was my only companion, my only constant. I tried to ignore it, but it was everywhere, in every moment of every day."

Dr. Harland leaned closer, his eyes intent on Viktor's face. "Can you tell me more about this ticking?"

Viktor swallowed hard, the sound echoing in his mind. "It... it's like it's part of me now. Like a second heartbeat, except it's not mine. I don't hear it anymore... I feel it. The clock," he paused, his voice growing stronger, "it's like it's been counting down to something, but I don't know what."

Dr. Castellanos, who had been quietly observing the exchange, stepped forward. "Aiden, can you run a neurological scan on Mr. Gunter? I want to rule out any lingering effects from the cryosleep that could be causing these... hallucinations."

The AI nodded and rolled closer, the LED smile on its faceplate flickering slightly. "Of course, Dr. Castellanos." It took out a small, handheld device and scanned Viktor's forehead. The room grew quiet as the machine beeped and whirred, the only sound the persistent ticking in his mind.

The display on Aiden's wrist flickered with data, and the doctor studied it intently. "Interesting," she murmured. "Your brain activity is... unique, Mr. Gunter. There are some patterns that suggest you might have experienced something... traumatic during your cryosleep. But the good news is, there's no evidence of any permanent damage."

Viktor nodded, the word 'unique' reverberating in his mind. What did that mean? Was his mind broken? He took a deep breath, willing his racing heart to calm. "What's going to happen to me?"

Dr. Castellanos gave him a reassuring smile. "It's nothing to be alarmed about, Mr. Gunter. Sometimes, after such a long period of unconsciousness, the mind plays tricks. It's trying to make sense of the lost time. But with time , these... hallucinations, will fade."

The therapy session began with simple questions, asking him to identify objects and recall basic facts. It was like learning to walk again, his brain stumbling over the simplest of knowledge. Yet with each answer, with each step forward, the ticking grew softer, the room less oppressive.

As the doctors concluded their session and the medical bay door hissed shut behind them, Viktor raised his hand to wipe his brow, only to find the small cut from before, still there.

In reality...