The air was warm, far warmer than he would expect on a January night. The room was black, with only the dim glow from an outside light coming in the window. He could see the curtains swaying in the slight breeze, the air felt heavy like the humid air of a summer night. His mind was reeling; where was he? The last thing he remembered was that he had been in bed at his apartment, the crappy, dingy apartment that was all he could afford after his wife had tossed him out. He remembered waking up with a crushing pain in his chest, and then he remembered the blackness coming up in his mind. Now there was blackness again, no, not quite blackness, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. He could see the red numbers of a clock across the room showing 3:17. Then he realized that he was not wearing his glasses; how the hell was he seeing across the room?He threw the covers off and went to sit up. Again, something was not right. The pain that usually accompanied moving was not there.. My feet touched down with a clang, boots on a metal floor. I heard the crash of a large switch snapping into place somewhere overhead, and the lights came on with a buzz that faded slowly away. They were too bright, at first.Looking around, I could see the room was only a few steps from one side to the other. Almost a closet. Inspirational posters decorated the walls to the left and right. In front of me, an open doorway and a long hall.Looking behind me, a floor to ceiling screen displayed a scenic view of mountaintops above clouds. Tunnel openings dotted the landscape and empty monorail tracks crisscrossed the cloudy void.I could also see my reflection in the glass of the display. A motorcycle helmet covered my face, except for the eyes behind the visor. My hands and arms were covered first in a black glove that went all the way to the shoulder, then over that there were elbow length brown leather gloves, metal plated on the palms and backs. Pretty flexible, despite the plate. The.
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