I have never felt this tired in my life. I’m not even sure what time it is…just very late.
The entire day was spent at the intake office, and most of that in the medical wing, a very cold and sterile place. It reminded me of the hospital and my throat started to ache with memory.
They weighed me, tested my blood, scanned my brain, took tissue samples. I ran for what felt like hours on a treadmill, with tons of leads and wires strung from my body, feeding data to their equipment. They put me in a centrifuge to test my resilience against g-forces—at one point I was sure I would black out, but managed not to. That part was almost fun, actually! Like being on rides at the amusement park with Father as a child, only much more intense.
I think now they must know more about my body than I do!
I wasn’t told much, just led around and ordered to do this, that, and the other thing. Often, the personnel attending me would review results on their printouts or datapads, nod, make notes, and apparently mutter with approval. Half of what I did hear them say I didn’t understand at all. So much technical jargon!
…and then I died.