CELL

/ THIRTEEN /

The human body is a miracle and there are a vast number of theories to sign up to concerning its origin and purpose.

It could be a vast city populated by millions of tiny organisms. The extremities are the slums, operated by low paid menials, with equally low aspirations. The heart is where the 'real workers,' or so they think of themselves, live. They believe, with not unfounded resolution, the city would collapse without them. This puts them above all others, and their elitist attitude demonstrates this. Then there's the brain. In the brain, those who believe they're exiles reside. They feel they're meant to be apart from the remaining population, and are indeed. They're the different ones. The ones you'd cross to the other side of the artery to avoid. The misunderstood and misjudged ones. They are dreamers. Imaginers. Worriers. They allow their wonder to wander, and no one, including them, realise their true worth.

The human body might be placed here by the last, but not only, extra-terrestrial race to visit this fair planet. In our DNA, we could harbour the seed required to regerminate their ancient, fading civilisation. It wouldn't burst forth, Ridley Scott like, leaving us empty husks to be fed upon by the new born alien creature. Unless it did... It would remain dormant within us, a seed bearing the history of those who were old when the universe was still young. We could be all that was left of the greatest intelligence ever to exist, and be completely unaware.

It could be created, from sand and clay, by an omnipotent deity wishing to simply fill the emptiness of existence with life.

Or, it could be the accidental and entirely unguided mixing of primordial elements. We could be a mere stepping stone, early on the rocky path to fulfilling our ultimate potential. We might destroy ourselves long before nearing that promise, or we might overcome our inadequacies and be fulfilled.

The human body, whatever reason it exists, is a miracle. It is a self-repairing, to a certain extent, machine capable of wondrous acts on its own, without the intervention of us, the drivers.

How long, therefore, would a broken nose and crushed larynx take to heal? Could they heal without the resultant shock and lack of air depriving the body of one of the precious items required for it to continue being?

Ryan couldn't know, but the fact they were healed implied the incident had happened some time ago.

How long, therefore, had he been unconscious, and had that state been artificially maintained by Bradley and her team in order to keep him contained? Controlled?

It was one little, provoked, bite. They couldn't hold that against him, could they? Yes, they could, and probably would. If he had attacked her like that, he imagined others would have done the same, similar or worse, previously.

They were keeping people without consent. Given the chance, who wouldn't retaliate and try to escape? But, where would you go? You couldn't see and had no concept of the size or layout of the room.

Ryan was suddenly struck by how normal the absence of light had become. At first, it felt as if the world had ceased to exist. It had been removed and all that now was, was his cage. Now, it was normality. The time with Dr Bradley was the anomaly. The light in that room, which he assumed should have been blinding in contrast, but wasn't, was out of place. It invaded his eyes, seeping into his brain to make it ache, a lingering effect that he only now recognised was there at all.

The darkness, once signifying, no, emphasising the loss of his life and memory, was now a comfort. It hid the evils without, and he could imagine it to be a thick forest keeping them away. How did the others feel about it? Had it become a succour to them? Did they love or loathe it? Did they even care?

He wished he could ask them. They were in there with him, so were also protected by the forest of nothing, whether caring or not. The interlopers, Bradley and her lackeys, could invade their space, but they'd always have it back afterwards. It couldn't be taken away permanently, and it would forever be there waiting.