Buku Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water by Vylar Kaftan

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Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water by Vylar Kaftan

Author:Vylar Kaftan

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

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Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water by Vylar Kaftan

5: Understanding

THE NEXT WEEK BLURS. My nerves are live wires, shorting against each other, alternating horrific fire with dead absence. The absence is miraculous until the fire ignites again, seconds later. I always wake in agony, and someone—a doctor?—pushes a button. Something cool enters my veins and I sleep without dreams. Then unquenchable fire shocks me awake again.

Sometimes machines move my arms and my legs, like I’m lifting invisible weights, and I shriek with pain. Someone’s always with me. Once I smell bread and salami; another time someone’s sleeping on a floor mat beside my bed. Someone’s there to monitor machines and keep me alive. But that someone is never Jasmine.

 

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Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water by Vylar Kaftan

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Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water by Vylar Kaftan

 

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Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water by Vylar Kaftan

Author:Vylar Kaftan , Date: June 11, 2019

,Views: 32

Author:Vylar Kaftan

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
5: Understanding

THE NEXT WEEK BLURS. My nerves are live wires, shorting against each other, alternating horrific fire with dead absence. The absence is miraculous until the fire ignites again, seconds later. I always wake in agony, and someone—a doctor?—pushes a button. Something cool enters my veins and I sleep without dreams. Then unquenchable fire shocks me awake again.

Sometimes machines move my arms and my legs, like I’m lifting invisible weights, and I shriek with pain. Someone’s always with me. Once I smell bread and salami; another time someone’s sleeping on a floor mat beside my bed. Someone’s there to monitor machines and keep me alive. But that someone is never Jasmine.

I’m such a fool.

Memories come back—not all, but they restore me. I am Bianca del Rios. I grew up in the Mission District of San Francisco. I’m an artist and a dancer—and a powerful telepath.

Details are fuzzy. My memories are random. I got my first tablet as a charity hand-me-down. I ate so much fruit pudding at a cousin’s wedding that I got sick all over the table. One time the TV news talked about a dead telepath; disgust filled my mom’s mind, and I wished I were dead too. I remember being shot by a police Enforcer—then I realize I’m reliving my father’s murder, which I shared telepathically when I was three. I beg the doctor for morphine. He gives me some, but not as much as I want.

Pain wracks me. My nervous system jolts like a derailed train. I remember shoplifting a dress from a Nob Hill boutique, then later sneaking it back. Climbing the unsteady wall near Ocean Beach. A broken shoe at my senior dance recital, which I duct-taped for the encore. The memories taunt me with what they lack—like a self-portrait shaped by negative space.

Sometimes the doctors slide my bed into an old-fashioned ambulance and take me elsewhere. We must be on the run, I think, staring at the inside wall. Chela must be chasing us. Strange how dated this ambulance looks, when we can build city-size starships. Why can’t I remember the starship? I feel people’s screams, but when I try to remember, my mind fills with contradictions.

Time passes strangely. I think it’s five days, but maybe I’ve lost another ten years. The machines keep working my muscles. Soon I can lift a finger. The doctor tells me that’s progress. I ask where Jasmine is, and he says “far away” but won’t say where. Maybe she’s gone to the Moon? It makes sense, as much as anything does. I slide back into pain-shaped dreams, until reality fades.

Soon I can push the button myself. It doesn’t always deliver, but at least I have control. I’m transferred to yet another rickety ambulance. A firefighter wearing an oxygen mask enters the ambulance. I’m confused, but when she removes her mask, it’s Jasmine.

I want to reach for her, but can’t lift my arms. She kneels and presses her cheek to my chest. :Bee. My love, I thought I’d

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