"I think she's coming around," someone said.

There was some shuffling.

My vision was so blurry, I couldn't see a thing.

"Most curious," I heard Sally say.

Screw you, Sally! I thought.

I pushed a hand away, someone was touching my cheek. "Get off me," I yelled. "Let me up!"

I blinked furiously, and my vision slowly came into view — I was surrounded by people staring down at me.

Riggs and his men were arriving on the scene, presumably just having been called over. Thankfully, it seemed I'd only fainted for a moment.

Riggs barked orders for the others to retrieve a medi-vac. Whatever that was.

"Shalon, are you alright?" Michael exclaimed. He was squeezing my hand in his grubby paw.

Ugh. When was the last time he cleaned those hands? I wondered.

Nicole was kneeling on the other side of me, chewing on a few loose threads of her sweater, looking even more vulnerable and scared than the moment I'd met her.

I tried to move and groaned. Oh, my hip! This was the second time I'd fallen down today. Other than this morning, I couldn't remember the last time I'd fallen down... not since that time with Michael years ago.

The memory flashed through my mind. Michael and I stumbling through an apartment building that looked like a volcano had spewed lave through it. Everything was scorched. That was one of the last times I'd ever been out treasure-hunting. I'd fallen — .

My thoughts were interrupted — someone was talking softly above me.

I rolled my head back, and there, staring down into my eyes, was Mercer.

I realised then that my head was resting on something warm and soft. EEUW! Yuck! He'd placed my head on his meaty thigh. He was holding my neck, presumably taking my pulse.

"What are you doing?" I pushed him away. Ach, all these people touching me made me feel claustrophobic. But I was too weak to get up. Goddamnit! I said silently.

"Please rest, Shalon. You are weak. Sally has done a complete diagnostic and has assured me that you will be fine, but you have low blood sugar combined with a panic attack." He held out his hands, "I'm sorry I wasn't a good host. I should have had a meal prepared for you. I've asked for some juice and bread."

Juice and bread sounded good, but I wasn't going to lie here on my back for everyone to stare at.

I rolled over onto my side and sat up. Ouch, my head! I must have banged it real good. Oh god, my back was seizing up. I'd probably pulled a muscle. Stupid klutz! I admonished silently.

"Help me up," I shouted at Nike and Michael, who were standing there like I was some sort of spectacle, like a whale washed up on the beach.

I realised it was an exact repeat of this morning, me yelling for help to get up.

It's a sign, I thought involuntarily. A sign of something ominous. Falling down twice in one day — that was bad, that was really bad. It must be, right? And didn't bad things come in threes? And what did it mean that I was asking children to help me up?

I pushed these anxious thoughts away. I knew better than to indulge in magical thinking. It only led to madness — I'd have another panic attack before I knew it.

Michael and Nike came over and each took an arm, and I grabbed hold of them, and forced myself up. I had to hang a moment at an awkward angle to let the blood get to my head, but we eventually made it to a nearby chair. I just needed to sit down. With my knee and my back, it was all too much. I was going to be so sore tomorrow.

But what about tomorrow? I didn't even know where tomorrow was. I didn't know how I was going to make it home, or where I would go with Michael. What was I going to do with Nike? I looked up through the ceiling. The day was setting, and I felt a desire to go home. Right now.

Just then a young officer came with a tray full of glasses of orange juice and a large plate with bread and some kind of white dip.

My mouth watered at the site of the bread, but I chose the orange juice first. I needed to get my sea legs.

I reached out for a glass, and was terrified to see my wrist shake with palsy, and I gave every effort to still the tremor. I brought the glass to my lips and drank down the sweet nectar that tasted perfectly like orange juice. So much so, that it made my heart ache. It wasn't fair to do this to an old lady. I'd resigned myself... I didn't need any of this fancy stuff.

Calm down, I said to myself. You're going to choke on orange juice and make a perfect fool of yourself. I really did feel like I was on the edge of insanity. I needed a good sleep and that was that.

"Ma'am," the young officer said.

"Yes," I answered.

He held out his hand. "Here is a pain reliever and something to stabilise your blood pressure."

I took the pills and put them on the table in front of me. Then I thought 'screw it' and put both pills in my mouth. I felt like shit, and besides, with their damned buddhist computer they were unlikely to be poisoning me at this point.

I drained the rest of the glass, and picked up a piece of bread with the white spread on it, and popped it in my mouth.

It was delicious. Cheese. Real cheese — a delicious cream cheese.

I leaned back against the chair to savour this luxury, but unfortunately, I missed the mark. Instead of leaning on the back of the chair, I leaned out into empty space.

I was about to crash to the ground when Mercer grabbed me.

"Please, let me help you," he said softly, lifting me to a sitting position. He rubbed my shoulders warmly, and stood beside me.

I clutched the back of the chair and started crying just a little bit then. It was just so humiliating to be eating a piece of bread, being touched by a man and enjoying it and not wanting to enjoy it, having almost just fallen off my chair, and having just fainted from a panic attack, with all these people watching.

I swallowed the bread with difficulty around my sniffles, and tried to hide my eyes.

What can I do for you?" Mercer asked, his face full of compassion. He held up my shoulder.

His eyes were so kind, and I couldn't understand why he was being so nice.

"Please tell me what I can do for you?" he asked again.

I struggled to swallow the piece of bread. I wanted to ask him what he wanted from me, but the only thing that came out was, "I just want to go home. That's all I want. I want a book, a cup of tea and my heavy quilts, and some candles so I can read through the night. That's it."

Mercer smiled, conspiratorially. "I understand, and I've done much better than candles. Yes, let's get you home, Miss Sims! With alacrity!"

Despite my haziness, I did a double take of that one. Miss Sims? It was funny to hear him say my name like that. He'd been calling me Shalon up till now. What had happened during the faint that made this change?

"Riggs, come here and support Miss Sims," he said to the officer.

"It's okay," I protested. "I'm fine. I miscalculated. I'll hold on tight, see?" I smiled and hugged the back of the chair.

"Okay, I'll call Tom. One moment." Mercer walked partway across the room, and touched a button on the post.

"Hello," someone answered a moment later.

I looked up, it was Tom. It seemed like he was in the room, but it was some sort of projection.

Breathe, Breathe, I told myself. Don't think about that stuff. Let it go. The technology was giving me severe anxiety. I could feel myself getting dizzy again. I put my head down and struggled to keep myself calm.

This level of technology was ominous. I just knew that it was ominous. It wasn't natural, and these people having this level of technology certainly wasn't natural.

I turned my attention to Michael and Nike who were gorging themselves. The juice was gone and the bread was on its way. Despite knowing better, I snatched another piece of the bread from the vultures and shoved it in my mouth.

After years of scrounging for roots and tubers and the odd can of food, or wild bird or fish, and what you could grow in polluted city topsoil — we had developed very uncivilised eating habits. Especially concerning bread.

I relished the texture. Crusty, flaky outsides, with gooey, soft insides. The only problem was that I was missing half my teeth, and didn't have the best chewing capacity.

Meanwhile, Tom and Mercer finished the call.

Mercer came back a moment later and said, "Tom is coming right away, and look here, Miss Sims, here is your medi-vac to take you to the roof."

"To the roof?" I asked, almost choking again on the bread. I forced it down in one big doughy lump.

"Yes," he answered. "They'll fly you and Michael and Nike home."

I wasn't the only one shocked at this one.

"Fly?" Michael asked, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Mercer nodded. "Yes, you'll be in your beds within fifteen minutes. And I'll leave a team to attend to your needs. I'm so sorry this meeting has been difficult for you, Miss Sims. I never meant any harm."

His offer and his plea affected me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But it was overwhelmed by a feeling of relief at the thought of being home in fifteen minutes. I had no clue how that would happen, but I didn't actually care right now. It was an answer to my prayers and I sensed it immediately. I nodded.

Mercer gave the signal and two men in uniform came and helped me walk into the contraption they'd brought with them. They pressed a button and it lowered me from standing to a comfortable sitting posture, and I hadn't moved a muscle. I relaxed, and the man strapped me in.

It was some kind of hovering medical lift. I hadn't seen anything like this before. Whether it was the chair or the drugs, I started to feel good.

Before we whizzed off, Mercer asked, "Will I see you again, Miss Sims?"

This was a shock. Huh, what do you mean? No, no, no... I thought.

"I do hope you'll come visit me again soon." Mercer repeated. "We have so much more to talk about." He looked very sad. "I'm so sorry," he said finally, looking down in shame. "Please forgive me."

I frowned. Sorry? Forgive you for what? I wondered. The days' events had gone by in a blur and I wasn't sure what he was referring to. It wasn't his fault I'd had a panic attack. It was my own fault. It was just the people, the lights, the walking, the technology — it was all too much for me. There was a reason I'd stayed behind all these years.

Before I had a chance form a response, Tom's projection came back on — he was wearing a tight, black flightsuit. "I'm here, Miss Sims, on the roof, ready to take you home."

Mercer nodded. "They're all ready and coming right now, son."

"Confirmed," Tom responded, and the projection cut out.

"Say you'll come again, Miss Sims?" Mercer asked.

"Why?" I asked. "What do you want from me?"

"A chance to prove you wrong, Miss Sims. A chance to prove you wrong."

"Wrong about what?" I asked.

The medi-vac started driving me away. It was all happening so fast.

Mercer was smiling. "You'll see, Miss Sims."

See what? I wondered. The two medics walked beside me and we were followed in the rear by the children and Riggs.

Mercer stayed behind alone. With Sally.

He waved, and Michael and Nike reciprocated.

"Goodbye!" Michael said.

"Goodbye young Michael," Mercer responded. "And Nike."

My arms were strapped in, so I smiled weakly. I was feeling very, very relaxed at the moment. I had a slight sense of euphoria and felt slightly giddy.

Before I knew it, he was gone and we were on the elevator, heading up to the roof. My head was spinning.

The elevator clanged to a stop moments later and opened up onto an empty landing platform where a shuttlecraft was waiting. It looked like something from Star Trek — I'm not joking.

The sun was setting to the left and painted the entire scene with a vibrant orange light.

Tom came out of the side ramp of the ship, smiling and waving and wearing something that made him look like Commander Ryker off Star Trek. It was some sort of red and black pantsuit.

The medics guided me in the medi-vac past Tom and inside the ship. The medi-vac had no problem rolling itself effortlessly inside.

As I passed, Tom smiled and said, "We'll get you home in no time, Miss Sims," in his best Commander's voice. He was clearly excited about saving the day.

I would have rolled my eyes, but realised I wasn't able to say or do anything, really.

The medics got me stationed, and sat down in the seats behind me, and Michael raced up the ramp, and took a seat in front of me, straining to see into the cockpit.

Nike was reluctant to board, gnawing her sweater, looking between me and Tom. Her eyes, shining out behind her long, brown hair, were wide with fear.

Tom stood there at the door. "Come on in, Nike. It's safe, I promise." he said.

Nike looked at me.

Tom looked at me.

I nodded, and lifted my hand with difficulty.

She walked reluctantly up the ramp and into the ship, and sat on the chair beside me and took my hand.

I was feeling incredibly relaxed, and was having difficulty focusing my eyes.

"What did you give me?" I asked the medic beside me, and was surprised to hear my voice slurring.

"What did we give you?" he asked.

"Yes, the pills, the pills, what did you give me?"

"One was a nano-medic that will disperse whatever medications you require to stabilise your blood pressure. The other was a pain reliever and relaxant. You might feel dozy."

I remember thinking, You little shit, but I didn't actually care that much, and relaxed into the high. It felt like a strong adavan — just floating and fluffy.

I don't remember much after that. There was a flight across the water, and then we landed. Michael was excited and chatted with Tom the whole time, asking a million questions.

I remember being rolled down a white hallway. And going into a white room, and tucked into a large bed. I remember Tom looking down on me and saying, "Sleep well, Miss Sims. You're home, safe and sound."

And that was it.