Chapter 2

The sun was up, the room was a cheerful yellow ... the sheets were white with daisies. However, the bed was stainless and her attached plumbing was clear and sanitary. Her robe was hospital and tied behind. The monitors were placed in such a manner that she couldn’t read them. As she was looking ... a monitor and pump activated.

Just before she slept, a sorta human entered and watched whatever the pump had administered ... work.

As soon as the bed-ridden woman was ‘out’ the team of ‘doctors’ entered, the woman was shifted to a surgery gurney and was soon under the lights.

The head surgeon ... if that word was appropriate ... spoke to the rest of the attendants. Speaking is just a word ... an action of conveying information or expressing one’s thoughts and feelings. But it was mind to mind and not mouth to ear.

It wasn’t English or any language heard of on Sol 3 ... ever. It wasn’t vocal in any sense of the word. It was more a video describing the why and how he intended to move forward.

<There’s not much to work with>.

<The worst yet>. Her thoughts were of a battlefield pickup and what that rescue entailed. It was gruesome, but not as bad as this subject.

<She’s going to start over>.

<No need to mention ... if we sent her back to the kitchen like she needs to be... > describing the hazards involved with a perfect figure in the slime of the afterblast ... and all that that would entail.

<Shall we begin>?

Wild dreams ... there was something odd going on ... and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

She woke slowly, Mondays were always a pain. The face she wore had nothing to do with her and everything to do with belonging to her peer group.

After the free four day weekend going back to school was a trial ... three more years ... I’ll never survive ... and ... and ... and ... the parents were already leaving college brochures in strategic places ... like her backpack ... her dresser ... under her pillow ... not even a sophomore ... and they want me to consider college? The brochures were IVY LEAGUE! Oh My God...! The cost? Daddy was rich and stepmom was only six years older.

Oh momma ... cancer and so young.

She carefully slid out of bed and straight into her slippers.

Stepmom walked in ... how did she know I was awake?

Tiff... ‘Tiffany, please,’ said, “Nude again. You must not sleep nude ... why ... you’re positively naked ... what would the neighbors say?”

The first time Tiffany, Please told her that, she had said, “Male or female?”

“Don’t get smart with me, little girl.”

And that brought the retort, “Easy.”

Tiffany, Please had an IQ only three points higher than her bra size. Tiffany, Please was on the left side of the bell curve ... towards the bottom while she was on the right side ... also towards the bottom.

When Tiffany, Please had told her father what she had said, he was disappointed. Disappointed was the worst thing ... bad ... very bad.

“The cook has your breakfast ready ... Charles will drive you today. Your father and I have an important function to attend.”