It Can’t Be by Lisa Barry

From Spencer –

OH GOD. No. It can’t be. I’m HUMAN!

Moorh thought.

Watching the blood dribble from the hole on the human arm at his side, Moorh’s mind raced. The pain hit as he searched his memory, the sensation running through his nerves and to his brain letting him know the extent of the injury.

He slumped into a chair and covered the hole with his working hand. His mind screamed at him while he surveyed his surroundings and tried to take back some semblance of normalcy.

It seemed he was in a doctors waiting room. All the walls were white. There was a typical beach scene framed on one wall above a row of simple chairs of which one he was sitting in. Another wall held a rack of pamphlets and yet another held a window looking into the reception area and a small door. The last wall was a double door entrance. Moorh stood and headed toward the doors.

“Mr. Stodgant?” A pleasant voice called. Moorh turned to see a beautiful yet human nurse standing at the reception door. She smiled. “I think you might want to get dressed before heading back to the office.”

Moorh glanced down and his lip curled in disgust. His skin was a soft white color, not the bright blue he was accustomed to. Gone was his leather breast plate and dagger, his kilt and boots. Instead, a soft, weak body, held his mind. An anguished noise escaped a mouth he’d never used before.

The nurse came near, reaching for his arm. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stodgant. It happens sometimes that the simulator is so real, people can have a hard time coming back to the real world. Why don’t you come with me and I can show you your things and fix up your nervous system patch-in? It seems you ripped out the cable.”

Moorh paused and looked around again. He had known it was a doctor’s office hadn’t he? He lifted a hand, his face a grimace as he viewed the lines in the skin and the veins buried within. He glanced back at the nurse just as a deep stabbing sensation cut into the side of his head.

His hand found the wall and he hunched in pain against it, head lowered to his chest.

“Oh, dear, sweetie. Let’s get you to the back, I think you may be having some post-simulation difficulty.” He felt a hand on his arm but it was coarse and firm.

Lifting his head, he could barely make her out through the agony. One of her hands was near his head and the other on his arm. Her skin was more yellow than white. Her head larger than it should be.

Cybertrolls.

Moorh bent to hide his emotion. He blinked trying to clear his head. His feet were blue again, wrapped in leather boots. Then white with odd looking shoes.

“Which?” he whispered.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll take good care of you.”

Moorh moved, a heavy hand to her head. The snap gave him no pleasure but the pain in his head subsided when she slumped to the floor.

He slumped to the floor and breathed in several long heaves before squinting around.

A bulbous canary skinned fellow stood in the doorway.

“Bravo,” the creature said and clapped mildly, “such a lovely game.” Moorh stood slowly and reformed his hand into a mallet.

“I don’t like games,” he snarled and lunged.

By Lisa Barry 04 August 2016

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