A Walk to the Red Sector

I see a map on the wall. Paper map, glass display case. The map does its job. The directions to the red sector are clear. The walk to the red sector will take a while, but I don't mind. I like to walk, and I need time to think. I have raised my bandaged arm to cross my chest, with the four fingers curved into my right armpit. Not only is it a gesture to shore up my modesty, but the bandage feels pleasantly cool. The temperature of this place is a little on the warm side.

I look around. The hospital setting looks both familiar and alien. The walls are plaster with a coat of beige paint. The doors are wood, with single frosted panes of glass to let in light. The room functions are painted in bold black letters. I read some of the signs on the doors. "Obstetrics Laboratory 6." "Doctor Tsu - Genetic Augmentation (Visual Cortex)." "Prenatal Ward." This is familiar and alien. Why do they all speak English anyway? Are these doctors the Vorkons? Maybe the doctors and guards were also captured like I was, and put to work. I may not have seen an actual Vorkon yet. And how alien are the Vorkons? Close matches to men and women, like the Vulcans in Star Trek. Scary monsters like those in the Alien movies? Or something that is beyond human understanding, like the planet in Solaris?

And it is strange that someone has not yet asked me about the piece of paper that I never got a chance to read. That woman who told me that some group called the Vorkons was planning to take over the universe, and using women from Earth as surrogates. They should have found that paper in one of my pockets. I hope that there was not information on it that could get anyone into trouble if discovered.

I turn at a corridor that has a helpful sign with an arrow that points to the red sector. There are a couple of men in a uniform at a checkpoint. I am expecting trouble. I feel that I should have a badge around my neck to get through, but one of them looks at me and waves me through, and checks off something. I don't get a better look than that, and I think it prudent to keep moving. The walls are still plaster, but the paint is kind of a salmon color now. There is a double door that leads to a cafeteria, as the painted frosted glass says. I look at another wall map that gives me more details of the red sector. There are a lot of common areas. Cafeteria, common bathrooms, common showers. It looks like I might not have much more than a bed once I reach my destination.

Also note - I do see a few people passing by in the corridors. Lots of white lab coats and ties, like the stereotypical doctor. I don't notice any women. If this were a hospital back at home, there would be a fair number of women serving as nurses. For the most part, the doctors and orderlies don't stare at me, and I don't look them in the eye or try to start conversations with them. I haven't noticed any other patients yet, pregnant or not.

I arrive at Dorm 6, Bed 612. I have a little more than a bed, but not much. In addition to a single bed with one pillow (and no bed sheets, imagine that), I do get an open side table and reading lamp. The side table has a drawer under its square top and a platform at the base. I open the drawer. Toothpaste, toothbrush, comb, small mirror, a small glass bottle of rubbing alcohol, a small bottle of "acetylsalicylic acid" (whatever that is), and some paper napkins. Merry Christmas.

There are no iPhones. There are no computers, like my father had. There are no televisions, like my grandfather had. There are no radios or record players, like my great-grandfather had. Instead, there are two books on the bottom platform. Let's see what I got. The first is a paperback novel of the type that my grandmother called a "bodice ripper." I am not really in the mood for one of those right now. The second is a hardback book that looks old. I open the title page. Really old - nineteenth century. "Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds" by Charles Mackay. I skim the table of contents. "The Mississippi Bubble", "The South Sea Bubble," "Tulipomania" .... What a strange combination. I cannot imagine why the management would intentionally leave me these two very different types of books. I am wondering if these were left behind by women that had occupied this bed earlier. It is an unsettling thought.

I have plenty of time before I will need to do some bedtime reading.

1. I investigate the nearby beds in the dorm.
2. I look at the two books a little more closely. Maybe someone put in a piece of paper, or there is some informative notes in the margins.
3. I visit the cafeteria.

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