Death and sleep should be quite similar, floating and drifting in the haze of dreams, the light piercing the void overlapping yet detaching from the shadowless lamp suspended before the eyes.
The soul shuttles between hallucination and reality.
Life has also been quantified into data on the monitor.
Consciousness emerges from chaos to the surface, gaining the ability to think again and sees the light.
Then, eyes open, and the vision begins to focus.
"John, are you awake?"
The military doctor stands straight by the bedside, hands behind his back.
He verifies the residual value of the anesthetic and pulls back John's eyelids for a light test.
"The prosthetic eye reacts swiftly, connections are smooth, iris projection and neural reception efficiency are up to standard... I have two things to give you."
The military doctor's tone is somewhat stiff.
He gestures to a plastic ice bag marked with a biohazard symbol nearby.
