//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: To wake up in a dungeon: // Story: From Biochemistry with Love // by IMN //------------------------------// Ouch my head. Darn, the same nightmare over and over again. I look at the screen and my heart grips as I waited for the liquid to reach the detection device. After a long day of waiting the line starts to shifts upward, is this it? is this the peak that I have been waiting for? The peak keeps rising, and rising, and rising... this does look good; then it starts to fall again. I overlay the peak with the previous blank, and the shape turns out to be exactly the same. My experiment was a bust, I look up at the heavens and scream in horror. And I wake up, shuddering; a cold sweat ran down my forehead. Negative results are a scientist’s worst nightmare. Where am I anyway? It looks like a dungeon of sort… That can’t be right, why would I be in a dungeon? Unless I was kidnapped? Well, this sucks, guess I have to do something about it. Hmm I can’t seem to remember. Oh I know, mental checklist of things to remember, GO: … Well, that’s a bust. The only thing I keep remembering is my experiments and my publication. … Okay, clearly my long term memory is damaged, let me try something else, what the hell is my name? … Alright, not working. Should I panic because of this? Maybe not yet, I still have my short term memory after all. Let’s see, what do I remember last? My thesis! Of course, I’m a master student after all. How can I forget my thesis’ defense? I was presenting it to a bunch of professors in a jury. I had two impressed faces, one scowling face, who I think I might have cost him some funding with my findings. My professor was smiling slyly, as always, and the last professor had quite a bored look on his face. So that is three out of five, not bad. I finished the presentation, then answered all the questions. My professor congratulated me on a job well done. I invited him to a fruit cocktail from a near-by restaurant… And that’s it. Why can’t I remember more than this though? I should be able to remember more than that. My hand feels weird, like I’m lacking my fingers or something, and so is my chin. I don’t remember having a long chin, this feels like a muzzle… Wait why do I have a muzzle? I looked down on my hooves… Wait, why do I have hooves? And why is there holes in them? “AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” Why am I suddenly hyperventilating? Oh, wait. I just had a panic attack… Understandable, I think. I simply need to breathe in. And breathe out. In. And out. Okay, back to the topic at hand…hoof. Where am I anyway? I’m sitting on a bunk bed, dull grey. The walls surrounding me are made of limestone, the bars, iron. There is a hole to my left, which, now that I think about it, looks suspiciously like a toilet. I hoisted myself on my feet, hooves, and walked closer, I took a small whiff… Ouch. I think I’m tearing up. Definitely a toilet then… blarg. I need to wash up. Stat. Looking further around I found a sink to my right. Wait, why would there be a sink in a prison cell holding a horse with holes in his hooves? I sigh, which had the unfortunate effect of stirring the smell further. Not good, it’s getting deeper. Smell removal now, curiosity, later. I race toward the sink. Why my body feels stiff? Or should I say, stiffer than it should be? Let’s put a pin on that for now. Reaching the sink, I realize that my misfortunes are not over yet. it’s made of those rotating gears instead of the lift-me-up faucets. How the hell do they think I’ll be able to use this? God, it's times like these that I wish for the ones at the mall. You know, where you pass your hand underneath them and the water starts running? Speaking of which, when was the last time I went to the mall? … Stupid thesis, taking over all my time. Back to the problem at han… hoof. How do I open the faucet? For something that uses opposable thumbs to exist indicates there are humans around. But what doesn’t make sense is why would I be placed in an unsuitable holding cell? And why am I alone? I’m being too sidetracked with unnecessary questions. If I can’t open something with my fingers, I should use the only other anatomy in which I can grab stuff with: My mouth. Taking the gear in my mouth I grab it and rotate, tastes a bit metallic, not bad, though I could do without rust in my mouth. Which now that I think about it, should be impossible to because an equine’s mouth should not open that much. Thankfully, the water looks clear. I take a sip and it tastes kind of refreshing. Clean water is a good sign, but the smell of the toilet is still in my nose. So I plunge underneath. After a few puffs I placed my full head under it, letting the water run down my head. I could feel myself thinking clearer. Perhaps this is all a dream? Maybe I am imagining things. Perhaps my hands are still normal, but I thought they were hooves because of some form of trauma, or stress. Or maybe the kidnappers gave me some form of hallucinogen to subdue me for transport. That seems to be the most logical explanation there is. Makes a lot more sense now. I lift my head up. Oh, there is a mirror in front of me. “JESUS CHRIST IN HEAVEN!” What in all that is heaven, earth and hell am I? Why would a black horse need sharp canine teeth? Why are my eyes so blank and pupil-less? Why are my mane and eyes colored purple? Shouldn’t purple be, I don’t know, the rarest color in nature or something? What the hell is that stump on top of my head and why does is look broken off? Why am I even asking myself these self-rhetoric questions? I should be hallucinating damn it. Though, for a hallucination it looks kind of complete. In particular the broken Hymenoptera wings on my back are a nice touch. I always thought if something need a touch of creepiness to it, it requires insect elements to it. Way to go brain, mental high five. … That was lame. But this form is so composite, wouldn't help me to survive for long in the wilds that's certain; I need to change it. I could wait until my body gets rid of the hallucinogen, but that might take a while. Perhaps if I can shock myself, it might reset my brain? No, that would be too impractical. What do I know of hallucinogens? They interfere with normal brain function which induces visual hallucinations. Unless they are the more potent dissociatives and deliriants. They don’t interfere with the autonomic nervous system… That’s it! I need to test my fight or flight response. I should react either slowly, or not at all. Now how to elicit such response here? There are no knives, or anything sharp for that matter. So I can’t cut myself, not that my Swiss cheese for hooves requires any more cutting. I didn’t see any electrical plugs, so shocking myself is out of the question as well. The bunk bed seem to be hanging by two chains on the wall. Perhaps I can use that. I walked toward my bed for a closer look. Yes, it seems that the bed closes downward. It is only held vertically because of the chains hooking it to the wall. Which means if I remove the chains, I can close it on my hand. That will cause enough pain to reset my mind back into its original state. Or so I hope. I lifted the chain on one end, then went to the other side. I placed my right hoof strategically under the bed. With great effort I removed the hook of the bed from the wall with my mouth. And release… “OUCH ” That hurt. Not going to lie about it. Crap, my hand is stuck under the bed. Leaning toward the wall, I place my other hand on the bunk then using my full weight I push as hard as possible. Stupid metallic bed weighs a ton. Just a few centimeters. Come On. Clank. Finally, my arm was free, boy does it hurt. I carefully placed it on the ground and the pain flared up to my elbow. But at least I’m free; I walked toward the mirror, now that I think about it, why am I still walking on all fours? Still, there was too much pain in my hand, so much so that I no longer feel my fingers. I glared into the mirror, what greeted me was the same black horse with purple mane and canine teeth. Crap. I took a long look at my… hoof? How odd, why is the place where the skin is scraped the muscles look green? Speaking of skin, why is it rough, chitin like in texture? And why is the injury oozing greenish liquid? Most importantly, why is the room spinning?