"Tell me Aubrey, is this what you expected to do with your life?"
The doctor's voice is cold and disinterested as he inserts more and more tubes into my arms and various parts of my body. Lying there in the cryogenic capsule, I think about how I got here and what I've done with my life. I begin to panic, and rethink everything, maybe I can't save him. Maybe it was meant to happen and I'm messing with time and space and the whole of existence. But it's too late. I've already signed my soul over to the devil, also known as Symbio Incorporated.
They wanted me because of my reputable status. I'm a Traceuse, a woman who practices Parkour. It just so happens that I'm the best there is. I always get admired at all the jams and I've even met David Belle, the creator of parkour. Belle wanted to sponsor me and create a girls line of parkour clothing featuring my designs and styles. My name: plastered on oversized sweatshirts and tight fitting girls' tees. What an honor.
I choose not to answer him, instead, looking straight ahead.
"Ma'am I'm going to have you count to 10 slowly for me, we have to put you under, just breathe deeply." He starts a tank full of the sedative, and I breathe deeply. I count down in my head.
One. Maybe everything will be alright.
Two. I can do this.
Three. I don't have to save Jenin; I can just do what they told me to.
Four. Deep breath. Yeah I can… I can…
Five. Everything fuzzy.
Seven? Black and dark. Not the same but the same.