Brain Case Part 8

March 15, 2010

Brain Case Part 8
I don’t know how to really put into words what it was like for me. I’ve tried, but I think, you know, it’s one of those things you have to experience. There’s some things that can’t be put into words, and it’s pretty much useless to try. Maybe I just needed to get it out of my system, and maybe now I can get on with telling you the real story, the story I really want to tell.
But before I do, I want to tell you, graphically, about the plane crash. I already told you about what happened before, just before the crash.
All I heard, after the guy said “i’m sorry. I’m so sorry” was sobbing. He didn’t even try to go back to the cockpit to try to keep the plane level or anything. Wasn’t any good anyway. Most of the controls were so damaged that the auto systems built into the control surfaces to keep the plane level were kicked in. They do that, if the plane is off autopilot and there’s no indication that a pilot is in control. Some kind of logrithym they use that says nothing is flying the plane. So that’s what was really keeping us up, but the control surfaces on the wings were starting to really burn.
Being in the belly of the plane, I heard everything as the plane was going in…I heard crashing sounds, and I assumed the plane was hitting trees. I felt the plane shudder, and heard a monsterous ripping sound. Then the plane flipped around, cartwheeled, and then it went crashing through the forest it had been pointed at by the pilots. Ripped the crap out of the plane and everything in it. You know, that guy who stayed on the plane, they found pieces of him, really small pieces. Me, well, they found ME. Here’s how they found me.
Upon impact, my restraints ripped into my abdomen and my shoulders. The walls around me were beaten from a combination of the plane itself being ripped apart and crushing the pod, and then once the plane was torn to pieces by the impact, my pod was slammed up against the trees. Imagine a pinball inside rocket, with a guy inside the pinball, and you fire that rocket at a forest. My pod was still going at full velocity when it hit the trees…Slammed into one, then into another…And it was traveling along with the debris from the plane, shaken loose like a badly laid egg. My body was pretty much destroyed by the impact. For some reason, though, my brain and my skull were untouched.
I could feel my life going out of me. At some point, right before I passed out, I shit myself. I couldn’t move my head. I couldn’t move anything. My bones were smashed, my guts were…it was like a giant hand had squeezed me. I didn’t have to move my eyes to see how badly I was hurt.  My body was crumpled. I couldn’t help but see it. Blood was pouring out my mouth. I saw sunlight coming in through one of the cracks in the wall. Then blood flowed into my eyes. That was, in and of itself, kind of a relief. I couldn’t stare at my body, crushed into impossible angles. I lived just long enough (Technically I was dead when the rescuers found me) to hear a rescue vehicle overhead.
The rescue vehicle had a trauma team on it, trained for providing emergency medical assistance for extreme injuries. By that, I mean someone who looked like I did when they pulled me out. They fired a portable ct-scan at my head and found that it was undamaged and sustainable. They dragged me out, being real careful not to damage my skull…The rest of my body, they didn’t give a shit about really, though they did make a point of pumping as much blood out as they could, to feed to my brain later. They also needed a large amount of it to sample for blood replication. It only takes a little bit, but sometimes it’s trickier for some folks…sometimes their blood doesn’t generate a facsimile of it like it should.
The process for emergency brain stasis involves a five point device that puts these tubes into the brain. These tubes take the place of the body’s life support, essentially taking over. A sixth tube is inserted into the base of the skull and tells the brain to wake up. Once the brain is awake again, they use a field to slow down the brain activity. I’ll tell you this. I remember waking up briefly when they did that. It was like I was being smothered. All the things that I should have felt, I couldn’t feel. I didn’t even feel pain. I felt…nothing. Imagine trying to take a breath only to have no sensation of breathing. That’s the thing you notice first, that you have no breath. And then you realize, you have no throat. My body was dead, at that point, and my brain was disconnected from all of my other parts, eyes included. That lasted for about ten seconds, and then the field kicked in, and things got hazy and then, I think, I passed out.
I woke up, so to speak, about 15 hours later. Before then, I was still classified as dead. They don’t tell anyone that a de-bodied individual has survived until then. They have to wait to see how the brain is going to react to its new state. Really, usually they don’t have to say anything, they just say “your son has been in an accident, and we had to place him in a new body. He won’t be able to play football, but he’s alive.” And here’s where the airline showed just how much of a bunch of fuckers they were.
Because of the fact that a good deal of my injuries were caused by my restraints…and there’s no doubting that….they really cut the shit out of me, pretty much cutting through to my spine at the waist…the airline wanted to claim that the manufacturer of the restraints were to blame, because the restraints were supposed to be viable even in high-velocity impacts.
So there I was. They’d connected auditory receptors to me, and a speaker, so I could vocalize. They weren’t going to attach any kind of optical device, because it would have been a waste of time…no need to attach it because I wouldn’t be there long enough to need one.
“Shouldn’t be more than a day or so, and we’ll get you into either a cloned or donated body…”
“Temporary, I know it’s hard but just hang in there and…”
That’s what the doctors told me. They figured they could do the surgery in a few days, put me in a new body, and then bill the airlines afterwards. That’s usually how it worked, they put you in a body and then sent the bill to whoever would pay the bill. Dr Coker was in the middle of telling me about rehabilitation and adjustment to a new body when a lawyer for the airlines came walking in, escorted by a federal marshall.
The lawyer handed him a cease and desist order, and the federal marshall confirms the document. Then the lawyer leaves, leaving Dr Coker standing there reading it to me. He got about a third of the way through the first page and got to the part where it said “Shall cease and desist any and all medical processes that will lead to Brandenhoff Airlines being named as the responsible party for any and all billing for procedures herefortwith.”
I had another Oh Fuck moment, like the one just before the plane crashed, when he said “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”


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