She woke with a killer headache and scalp pain, the sort you got when you'd had your head cracked open and the lace fitted. She could remember the lecture hall before the explosions. She went to open her eyes and couldn't. What the hell? She could hear a heart monitor and the machine that was assisting with breathing. Footsteps.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"How is she?"

That was a man's voice. One she should know.

"Better, this time around. We think this one will do better. Apart from minor treatable STD, she was well, got washed out to sea on the Suffolk coastline two years ago. The cold sea water and drowning, falling into a coma, one we've maintained medically, has helped keep her brain in the ideal state..."

Jesus! How many patients did they have in the room! What sort of whack jobs were running the show?

"Of course! I don't recognise the patients when all I can see is the back of their head. I remember her coming in. We've had her on the muscle stimulation for two years? Has it been that long?"

"Yes sir. The longest of all the donors."

Donors? Donating what? Lungs? Kidneys? Hearts? She couldn't feel any discomfort at all, except for the back of.. oh no.

No. Stop panicking.

Brain transplants were impossible, the spinal cord had far too many nerves to make that sort of operation even considerable as an option.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Look at her eyes. I think she's woken up."

"Doctor Bexley? Can you hear us? If so, look left, then right."

Huh? She knew that voice. Arakawa! What the fuck? Cindy didn't move. Gathering information was her priority.

"What does the interface say?"

Cindy thinks nice thoughts of her cat.

"Um.. she's dreaming about her cat?"

There's the sound of a card folder being opened and pages being turned. "Cat, cat, ah yes. You did get the police to help rescue Molly as asked?"

"Yes, sir. She's with her daughter Sam until the doctor is ready."

"Good, good. Take Yasmin to the crematorium, she clearly didn't want to live. Clean Ruby up. Doctor Bexley's sounding much better. I think we've done enough for today. Let the next shift look over our patient."

Patient? Singular? Clean Ruby up? How many organs had she donated? Two years of being kept healthy in a coma just to donate organs? Cindy had the best health insurance money could buy, but the bill for treatment must be insane! Keeping a coma patient fit and healthy for that long didn't come cheap.

"Sir, do I sedate her again?"

"Just pain killers and a mild sedative, please nurse. Let her dream. Tomorrow we'll wake her up."

"Okay. Goodnight, sir."

Cindy felt a cold sensation in the back of her left hand but stayed awake, albeit a very drowsy awake. Seconds later the pain in her head started to fade.

Molly was being looked after, which meant the people in this room were likely to be friend not foe. Anyone that wanted to harm her wouldn't bother about an old cat. A reasonable assumption, she hoped. Noises of feet shuffling about changed to walking, were followed by the sound of a door opening.

"Hi, Denise. Only pain meds tonight. It's just a watch role otherwise. I'll do the clean before I go."

"Okay, Sue. Traffic is pretty snarled up out there, you're best letting the rush hour pass anyway. Want a hand?"

"I'm good. Couldn't stick the kettle on, could you? I'm parched."

"Sure. I've got some donuts if you fancy one."

"Please. Give me ten and I'll be out."

"Don't forget to hook the monitors up to the alarm system."

"Already done."

There came the sound of a door slowly closing.

"Right. Let's get all these papers away properly first."

Cindy listened to the nurse stepping around the bed and to somewhere on her right. Things were being dropped into something else. Instruments into a metal tray? Next there's the sound of a chair being wheeled across the floor, and nails on a keyboard. This had to be a recovery room. Nobody had chairs and keyboards in operating theatres, did they?

There was a sigh. "Why can't he remember to put initials on things!" Another sigh, this one drawn out longer. "Ruby or Cindy? Which folder do you live in?" Mouse buttons could be heard being clicked. "Such a shame, only in her twenties and washed out to sea. She'd be surprised to see how much her hair has grown in two years."

Cindy felt tears forming under whatever was keeping her eyes closed. Ruby was a similar age to Sam.

Her own research had helped confirm a theory that had been bouncing around for a few years. Muscle memory. It was a thing. As was organ memory. The brain acted as CPU, short and long term memory. Organs seamed to act as a backup or replica of long term. Maybe not as detailed, but definitely there. It explained how athletes could perform superhuman tasks at incredible speeds without having to think too much. The conscious mind said "Go!" and the rest did as told. As long as enough conditioning had been done. Cellular systemic memory wasn't science fiction, it was fact. It could also be read, if the brain needed to. The reasons why were still being researched. Many dozens of reports had been logged of recipients having personality changes, memories or desires having come from the owner donating organs. A hunger for chicken nuggets, writing poetry, playing jazz, liking different colours, you name it. All things the recipient hadn't had before. Maybe this was why she felt a really strong urge to get to the coast? Not because of what she'd just heard, something her body was saying. Something the organs donated by Ruby were telling her.

Chapter-3