D:\Logs_03\CH2\4\64.txt

 +4375726c79+

 

"Time for your medicine"

My weak lungs took a deep breath, feeling the flesh in my torso cry in pain. Another day had just begun, how long was it since I was put in this bed? My memory, a broken glass, each shard reflecting small snippets of the last day I was able to breathe normally, the cold steel floor mixing with the warm fire, melting under me, my tired legs tripping and falling, defeated, my lungs turning black, my eyes turning crimson red.

"Sir?" The voice echoed again in my head.

My sight came back to reality, a blocky figure, a flickering green light and rusted noises greeted me.
The slim metal fingers held my chin up, forcing me to face the screen, running a diagnostic on my weak frail body, its other hand press against my waist, slowly rising just under my chest, one of its finger digging into my opened wound.

I let out a groan.

"Please stay still, it will be over sooner that way." the voice soothed me, the silver extremities fully feeling my injury from the inside
My legs shook and my eyes squinted, a small trail of saliva drooled down my mouth, unable to wipe it.

 After what felt like months of waiting, its hand, now crimson red, retracted, the nurse observed the blood that dripped down the silver ends of its own extremity.
"You seem to be fit. I'll serve your dinner shortly, just a moment"

While it walked away I glanced around the room, adorned with dirty walls  and loose cables, the only piece of furniture being the unkept bed i had been resting on. I thought about leaving, crossing the door in front of me and making a sprint for the ship's life rafts, perhaps that damned tin figure was slow enough that even I, with a crutch and one leg, could outrun it.

Before I could gather enough courage for this though, that damned computer came back, I watched its chrome legs shine off the ceiling light, jealous that a machine, meant to serve people like me, could do something so basic that I wouldn't be able to do ever again.
A plate was carefully placed on my lap, fork and knife on one side, a bright, raw, red meat on the left, I looked back up.

"My apologies, it seems that our stove is broken and I'm unable to fix it, I've washed it off in the sink, it is as edible as I can make it, sir."
My hands held onto the silver cutlery as I stabbed and cut the soft meat while listening to the humming and ranting of the nurse, observing me eat.
 

"I've also noticed we've been running out of food as of late."
My knife dug into the middle of the meat.
"We also lack any kind of net or fishing rod."
The fork dug all the way into the bright red surface, squeezing the remaining blood out of it.
"I have some suggestions to remedy this"
I closed my mouth and swallowed, the cold and gummy flesh caressed my throat slowly, stopping in its tracks as a plated hand ran under my shirt, lifting it up revealing my stomach, the only part of my body that wasn't scorched or injured, the other hand pressed against it, a sharp pain began growing on the same spot, my breathing shortened as I tried to move away, the pain growing as I moved, no matter how much I hit, groaned, yelled, cried, I had to watch as my own flesh was taken away from me.

"It has not been the first time, sir, we had ran out of rations long ago."