Surrounded by darkness, John strained to hear everything going on in the room: bleeps, metal clanging and scraping, something like rustling plastic, and shuffling feet. There was nothing to see but black, but he heard voices too and tried to imagine what was going on.

'Okay,' said a doctor, a male voice, 'that should nullify the relaxant. You can restart the tests.' So they were doing tests on him?

The glass reverberated against John's fist where he banged it over and over. Maybe if he banged enough the barrier would break. Oh god, he felt sick as a dog.

'Do you have to strap him down Doctor Ryan?' It was a woman's voice, and it sounded a bit familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Wait, they were strapping him down!

'No!' John screamed into the darkness. What were they doing to him? Why were they tying him down?

'It's so hard to stretch and massage the muscle when he is like this,' the woman's voice said again.

'I'm afraid so,' Doctor Ryan said. 'If he has a seizure he may damage himself. God forbid he hits his head, who knows what would happen then. Another coma?'

What the fuck, was he epileptic now? Great, this was just bloody great. John let out a massive scream and banged on the glass again.

'It will only be the usual, the straps over his limbs, forehead, and chin. Oh, and the gum shield, we don't want him biting his tongue off if he happens to wriggle out of the chin strap.'

John heard a snapping sound.

'Okay,' said Doctor Ryan, 'that's everything.'

If only he could see what they were doing.

A silence ensued, and John imagined the doctor moving things over his body, maybe jabbing him with instruments, testing him with lights and gadgets from the future he couldn't yet imagine, and he shuddered with horror. Why was it so quiet? There were more doctors in the room, John could feel it, but everyone was quiet. Maybe it was an important test he was doing.

'Cortex synthesiser now online,' Doctor Ryan. Shit, what was that? With all his might, John threw himself against the glass barrier. He had to break through!

'Okay Miss Grimes, you can carry on now. What treatment is it today?'

Samantha was here? John pounded the glass. 'Hey Samantha! Someone fucking answer me!'

'Electrical muscle stimulation,' she replied, 'then a bit of massage on the legs.'

Before a leg massage from Samantha would've been the fulfilment of John's dreams, but he didn't like the sound of 'electric shock.'

'Well,' said the Doctor, 'he's all yours.' Thank god, Samantha was better than this guy he didn't even know. She would not hurt him, he was sure.

'Can I cover him up or does he need to stay naked on the bed?'

John groaned, frowned, snarled, and banged his head against the invisible barrier holding him back. 'For fuck sakes cover me up, oh god I feel sick.' He kicked and pounded on the glass but it didn't budge. 'Please God. Help me out here.'

'Your choice,' Doctor Ryan said, and John imagined him shrugging--his tone was kind of misgiving in that way. 'The climate control will ensure optimum heat levels.'

'Thanks,' she said, 'I'll cover him for modesty's sake.'

John sighed. 'Thanks Sam.'

Shuffles and a door creaking open and shut gave John the suspicion that the other doctors had left, and that Samantha now carried out her work on him alone. The silence made John nervous, not being able to see what was going on, but at the same time hearing human voices and everyday sounds like metal clinking on metal was like the sun bursting through the clouds after a storm, and he waited with more hope than he'd had in forever to hear more of those sounds and to feel closer to normal again.

There was a rustling sound, and John imagined Samantha pulling a white sheet over his naked ass. There were clicking noises, and those sucking noises suction cups make, and John thought maybe she was sticking electrodes on him, like the ones he'd seen on the tele for that 'Ab Builder' thing.

'Okay John, I'm going to set a series of electric pulses through your arms. Not too much though. We don't want you looking like Arnold what's-his-face, do we?'

John smiled. 'It's nice to hear your voice Sam, it really is.'

With his arms behind his head, John lay in the glass box, rested his head against the invisible barrier, and listened to Samantha talk about her day, the television, and all the small things that seemed surreal to him now. It was like a little slice of heaven to hear her voice, like tasting chocolate for the first time, and the feeling that someone still gave a fuck, well, that was the best part of it. Abruptly she stopped and John heard the sound of a door opening. Was that his mam?

'Mam, Mam! It's me I'm in here Mam.' John pounded the glass again, pressed his cheek against it, and pushed with all his might, but it wouldn't give. He quietened down soon though, straining to hear whether the new voice in the background was Mam or not.

'So,' said his mam, her familiar voice like honey on his bruised soul. 'Like I said, it has been sixteen years, but last night his eyes opened. We have a team of specialists working with him, and Samantha here has been his Physiotherapist ever since she qualified.' Was she talking to Samantha, or was there someone else? Seeing nothing sucked! There was the sound of footsteps moving closer to him.

'Hmmm,' said a new voice, a woman's voice. He could hear paper being rustled about. The footsteps moved away, then silence.

Mam's voice again. 'So what do you think Doctor, will you join the team? We can pay you whatever your rate is.'

'Is that so,' said the new voice. Footsteps sounded closer again.

'You look older John, look at all your fucking wrinkles!'

John hammered the box. Now he knew who it was. 'Sem! Sem! Get me out. Sem, I know it's you, get me out!'

'Excuse me,' Mam said, 'what did you say?'

Semila smiled. 'I said he looks older than I imagined. It also looks like his tendons have shortened on his left arm.'

'I have tried to keep them supple,' Samantha said, 'but it's just too hard over such a large period of time.'

'You have done an amazing job,' Semila said, and John imagined her patting Samantha's shoulder. 'Don't beat yourself down. Diane, count me in.'

'Sem!' John shouted again. What the hell was taking her so long?

'And put my wages to a charity of your choice.'

John heard his mam sigh, relieved. 'I cannot convey the gratitude both myself and Dan feel at having you on board, Miss Leang.'

'Sem, Semila get me out of here man, stop chit chatting. I can hear everything, but can't move. Please Semila help me.'

'Don't worry Diane,' Semila said with compassion deeper than he'd thought she could ever show. 'I'm the best in this field. Some might even say I'm shit hot.'

Yup, that was her, cuss words and all. Oh, but Mam wouldn't like that. She used to slap him across the head when he said shit. But Semila had her ways. Maybe she'd dazzle Mam with an angelic glow, or look at her with those hypnotising eyes. Yeah, that would work. Goosebumps trailed up John's arms.

'Okay so what now?' Mam said, and she sounded more suspicious, more nervous. 'When will you start?'

'Right fucking now,' Semila said, and John cringed. Mam wasn't going to let her on if she kept cussing like that.

'Pardon,' said Mam who was approaching him--he could tell 'cause her voice got louder and louder.

'Okay Di, I need a little time with John here.'

Whoa! John could hear a heavenly kind of magical vibe in her voice, as if she had a beam of sunshine in it. Holy shit, she was really tricking Mam with magic!? He wished he could see it, and what Samantha thought of the whole thing. Yeah, she'd be freaked out.

'Do you think you could give me a couple of fucking hours uninterrupted with him? I would be so fucking grateful if you could.'

'Yes, of course,' Mam said so sweetly that John was convinced she couldn't hear the swearing. 'Let's go Sam.'

'Sam stays,' Semila said, 'I may need her.'

'Oh, Okay,' said Mam, and John heard her feet shuffling away and then the door shutting with a click.

'Right you little fucker, time to get you back.'

Sem's voice was real close. Was she leaning over his body, stuffing her nose in his face?

'I know you must be screaming at me from somewhere, but I can't hear a fucking thing. Time to fucking rip you back into this world. Are you ready?'

Yeah Sem, do it. Do it now I'm ready.

Samantha cleared her throat. 'Excuse me, why do you swear so much? I have heard doctors talk before. None of them swear.'

'Because it's fucking expressive,' Semila said, and John imagined her gold tooth gleaming, that is if the body she was in had a gold tooth. Who knew?

'Look I don't know what's going on here, but I don't think you are a real doctor. I'm calling Mr Finnie.' John heard Samantha's voice moving further away, as if she was retreating, and she sounded freaked out.

'No,' was all Semila said. John knew the sound in her voice, it was the same sound that'd been in Death's voice when he'd come into John's room and frozen him. Oh god, was that what Semila was doing to Samantha?

'Sem, it's okay, Sam's not that bad!'

'That's weird,' said Semila as she walked over to Samantha. 'Normally an Angel's smile will settle the heart of even the most perturbed.'

Fuck, he couldn't imagine what was happening, but sounded like Samantha was worried or scared. Why was she quiet?

'Love?' There was a smile in Sem's voice, and a hint of mockery...or was it envy. 'You still love him after all this time?'

John stopped trying to force the small glass box he was trapped in open. What? Love him?

The sounds of Semila walking around John's body, touching and stroking the tubes and wires, was easy enough to decipher. She was dramatic like that. 'It's a strange thing love. It can spread over distances unbound, make you do silly things, this feeling is almost tangible when felt most strong.'

Wait, John thought he could feel something...warm hands on his chest. It had to be Sem. 'Sem! I can feel that! Help me, for fuck's sake!'

'It's not the heart that feels love girl, it's the soul. The one true gift, given to every human being. The only thing you have to nurture and take care of. You love John don't you? Oh, don't cry dear. Things are going to be alright.'

The image of Samantha frozen in place with tears running down her face was too much for him. 'Let her go, Sem!' He banged his fist on the glass again with more vigour.

Semila clicked her fingers, and abrupt noises of movement came from further away in the room. It sounded like Samantha struggling away, maybe knocking over a lamp or something, or maybe huddling in a corner.

'Who are you?' Samantha said, a quiver in her voice that made her sound like a terrified, fragile child.

'Look at me Samantha Grimes.' There was command and mercy in Sem's voice. 'I am an Angel, sent to help John.'

Even from where John stood in the darkness, he could suddenly see light glowing from beyond the glass box. It must be Semila, glowing and looking angelic and shit. A dull thud on the carpet sounded somewhere near where John imagined Samantha was, and he couldn't shake the image of her falling to her knees before a radiant ethereal version of Semila. The fact that he could imagine it so vividly gave him the suspicion that Semila was messing with his head too.

'Please forgive me,' Samantha whispered, her soft voice now laced with awe.

'Get on your fucking feet, you're no dog that grovels.' Ah, Semila was back--the Semila he knew anyway. More shuffles and sounds came from the room.

'Oh bollocks, this is going to get complicated now.' He heard pacing--up and down--that was Semila worrying. Then she clapped her hands and John jerked away from the glass.

'Got it! Come here girl. Stand before me.'

Shuffling and dulled footsteps drew towards where John imagined Semila standing. John heard a flicking noise. 'Forget,' Semila said. Had she just flicked Samantha on the nose? He wouldn't put it past her.

P.S.

Poor John, kind of like being blind, mute, and lame—I admit freely I'd be terrified in his situation. What would you do if it were you?

© Steve Ford and Joy Cronjé 2018