• It was than that I knew, as I walked through the door, that my dream was about to begin.

    Nothing. I found myself in a white room. Everywhere I looked was white. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bed my clothes, and the light, I felt like I was being consumed by the whiteness.

    I found basic definitions of words that I once new shooting through my mind.
    White: lacking color, like snow
    Wall: a vertical structure
    Floor: the horizontal part of a room on which people walk
    Ceiling: the overhead surface of a room
    Bed: furniture for sleeping on
    Clothes: garments that cover the body

    These words seemed familiar enough, so I tried to form them into sound. I wasn’t successful, for I couldn’t make a sound of any kind.

    As I struggled with this strenuous problem, a thought shot through my head, I’ll have to be careful since this is the first contact with the subject since the operation. I should probably turn it on. Even though it was in my head it didn’t seem to be my thought.

    When it said subject, I think it might have been referring to me. Although my chain of thought was interrupted as a section of the wall began to dissolve and a man stepped through.

    He was tall with he wavy light brown hair, and in his mid-thirties. He carried a small black bag in one hand, and strange rectangle in the other.

    The man surveyed the room and walked my way. As soon as he stepped away from the hole in the wall, it sealed silently behind him. When he reached my bed, he laid the rectangle on the floor and pressed his hand against the surface. It rose off the ground to form a table. He placed his bag down and opened it.

    He reached into his bag and pulled a small cylinder with several buttons and a screen in the center. After several minutes of pushing buttons looking at me, and looking at the screen he spoke.

    “Well you don’t seem to be giving me that much trouble, what do you think?” He pauses and chuckles, “I might as well be talking to the bed.” He rolls his eyes and pulls out an orb the of the mans hands, and squashes it between his palms.

    The thoughts come rushing back. They get louder, as more invite themselves in, as if they were trying to get my attention by drowning out the others.

    I open my mouth as if to scream. My flailing alarms the man, and he starts to back up.
    I leap out of the bed and lunge toward towards the man, as if it might help me. My hands have clasped around his shoulder. And they stop, all but, Oh my god, save me, she going to kill me, help me, over and over.

    My body slowly begins to relax, but I do not release the man. Instinctively, I think as if to receive and answer, What is happening?

    The man replies hurriedly, “I don’t know, you were just the subject of an experiment to test the results of a surgery.

    What was the surgery?

    “We placed a computer in your mind.”

    Why me?

    “Because you lived a very standard life, and you weren’t in any kind of relationships. Both of your parents were dead and you were an only child. You didn’t have any kind of disease and you didn’t have anyone to object what you were doing.”

    How did you get me to participate in the surgery?

    “You were more willing because you were the one who found us.”

    Are there any other side effects besides what I am doing right now and the thoughts that came rushing earlier?

    “Well we weren’t expecting you to be telepathic, or a mind-reader, the thing we did expect was for you to be able to do was send out pulses.”

    What do Pulses do?

    “We thought they’d be like an electric wave that would make electronic items supercharge and then break.”

    Who is this “we” you keep talking about?

    “We’re Cybernetics International, but we are normally referred to as AI, for Artificial Intelligence.”

    And who am I?

    Goosebumps appear on his arm as he whispers, “Lynn Connors”

    Unlike this man, this name gave me no fear what so ever. The only thing I felt was power.