I opened my eyes.
This doesn’t sound like an unusual thing. It is something people do all the time, every day. The thing is, the last thing I remembered was not going to sleep. It was not even being in bed. The last thing I remembered was sitting next to my wife in her 1992 Chevy Cavalier. It was the night before my 22nd birthday. We had just had a big fight, and we were driving around to try and calm down and work things out before going home.
And then I opened my eyes.
It had been near midnight, and now it was daytime. Morning, I guessed, mid morning. I felt pretty good. Even my back felt good. But, I didn’t know where I was.
I sat up. I was in a room. It was clean, and bright. And, well, old. Not that it was old now, but that the design was old. There was modern equipment in the room, so I had to be in an upscale hospital of some kind. I wracked my brain desperately to try and figure out what had happened, where Tawny was.
A nurse came in, and I turned towards her. My eyes slid off of her… him?… like they were an out of focus movie. Like I was looking through a window covered in grease.
“Hello, Jeremy,” they said, “How are you feeling?”
“Woozy. Confused. Out of it. What happened?” I asked.
“You will be told everything in time. You are safe and healthy.”
“Where am I?”
“This place is called Resurrectorium 1920.”
“Resurrectorium?” I didn’t recognize the word itself, but I got the general meaning. “Am I dead?”
The nurse smiled. I still couldn’t tell if they were male or female. I didn’t really know if it mattered. “You were. You’ve been resurrected. The world as you knew it ended and was remade.”
“Where is my wife? Where is Tawny Christophson?” I demanded.
The nurse shifted, seeming a bit uncomfortable for a moment. “We can talk about that later. For now, just rest. Coming back is stressful. If you need anything, just pick up the phone.” They motioned to the antique phone on the table next to my bed. I had noticed neither before.