This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.
All I could hear was the low hissing of a machine. My breathing wasn’t my own. The machine on my right was making me breath. I could see the triangle shape of plastic that cover my nose was beginning to fog.
A painful look down revealed jelly coated gauze wrapped over my arms and legs.
Then suddenly a machine I hadn’t noticed began to scream with loud sirens. On this machine were graphs that were making a zig zag pattern on the screen.
At that moment one of the screens went flat.
Yet another reason to quit smoking, Jimmy.