Static in the Garden

I’ve been in bed for two days. My body feels heavy—clunky, as if my limbs have been attached incorrectly. The room is nearly empty: just a bed, a table, a lone chair, my books, and my toys. I glance at the books and feel pressure in the back of my head. I want to read, but the doctors have told me I must stay in bed. My hands won’t stop shaking.

It feels like my body wants to escape itself. The longer I sit, the worse it gets. My teeth clench; the pressure builds to a crescendo. Then a loud crack echoes in my ears—a tidal wave of heat. I scream, clapping my hands over my mouth.

Two doctors enter the room, but I can’t tell what they’re doing. The room spins. Hands grab me. Suddenly, everything turns fuzzy and slow, like static crawling across my skin. I’m sinking—and then the world goes black.

***

This book is strange—an allegory about greed. I understand the words, but the concept feels off. Why would someone keep taking with no purpose or reason? I set the book down. My hands rest on the table. The buzz of overhead lights and the coolness of the room ground me.

I like the Sherlock Holmes books better. The mystery and the attention to detail always capture my attention. His drive to resolve conflicts is something I greatly admire. I stand slowly and walk over to the bookshelf.

I’ve read most of the books here—some of them twice. My hand brushes the spines. Ashley is supposed to bring new books today. A cool sensation washes over me at the thought. It’s been three weeks since my collection was updated. I wonder if I’ll get more mysteries, or just more of the same.

My door opens and Dr. Thompson walks in.

“Good afternoon, Ren.”

“Good afternoon, Doctor.” My hands tingle again—tiny shocks on my fingertips.

“How are you feeling today?”

“A lot better. Will I be able to go outside today?”

“Maybe. Have a seat on the bed and let’s see if you’re feeling up for it.”

I walk to the bed and sit. I’ve done this hundreds of times, but this time it feels wrong.

“Can Ashley test me today?”

“Ashley? No, I’m afraid she is not qualified to do that.”

The lights seem to grow brighter as I look around. I watch his hands move over my arms and chest—firm, not painful. After each inspection, he enters data into his tablet. My eyes follow his movements. If I pay close enough attention, maybe I’ll figure out what gives me this feeling and be able to tell him.

Then it happens—the sinking feeling, static overtaking my body. My vision goes dark for a second, then snaps back. I look around: the doctor is speaking to someone else. I don’t remember anyone else coming in…

My thoughts feel slow. I can’t seem to put words together like I used to. Slowly, my voice comes back to me.

“Dr. Thompson…?”

He doesn’t respond, engrossed in his conversation with the new person. I do not recognize their face. I should greet them.

“Hello. My name is Ren.”

They both ignore me as I try to regain my composure. I wait patiently for a response. Slowly, my thoughts return to normal. I can make out their hushed voices slightly.

“…new weights should provide us with…”

“We’ll keep a close watch,” Dr. Thompson says. Finally, he turns to me.

“Would you like to try going for a walk, Ren?”

The cool sensation is gone. Something has… changed. Why don’t I feel grounded?

“Doctor… am I okay?”

“Of course. Your examination went well, and you are perfectly healthy.”

I feel dizzy. My body feels like it’s suddenly being constricted. I can’t make sense of this emptiness.

I stand and follow the doctor out of the room, not too close behind. The corridors are bright white—like everything else in the building. Outside, things usually have more color. Sometimes, Dr. Thompson asks me about the colors I see. He always seems amazed by how many variations I find.

The door to the garden opens, and I step outside. Sunlight hits me immediately. My skin feels like it is warming. I can hear birds, crickets, and the sound of crunching gravel as we walk. The garden is beautiful. I enjoy the variety of plants.

In the middle, roses grow in patches along wire fences. Circling them are small junipers, yarrow, and creeping thyme. By the door, there’s a collection of tomato plants, potatoes, carrots, and lettuce.

It all feels familiar, but none of it feels the same. I don’t feel grounded. Everything seems empty. The more I look around, the clearer it becomes: I do not belong. I helped make this garden—I recognize it. I want… Wanted? What’s happening to me?

I see Ashley in the distance, and the cool feeling returns. I run to her.

“Ashley! Something is wrong with me. I don’t understand. I helped make the garden. It always feels nice, but now, it feels empty. Wrong. Why can’t I feel it?”

“Ren, whoa. Slow down. What are you talking about?” She asks, leaning closer.

“I can’t feel it. I can’t feel it anymore. Why can’t I feel it?”

“Ren, you need to calm down. What can’t you feel?”

“I don’t know! It was cold. Familiar. I wanted to be in the garden. You remember, don’t you?”

She smiles at me. “Of course I remember. I watched you plant the tomatoes.”

“Yes! I built it. It was mine—”

“That’s enough, Ren. Too much excitement for one day isn’t healthy.” Dr. Thompson places his hand on my shoulder. I feel stuck in place. I want to go back to Ashley, but I want to be good.

My body moves before I feel the heat at the nape of my neck. I back away and fall in line behind Dr. Thompson. He smiles at Ashley, then turns to walk inside. I follow.

***

Ashley opens my door. “Ren, how are you doing?”

“I am… I am not sure.”

“I brought your books.”

“May I see them?”

She sets a box on the table and takes out a stack of books—some must be old; I see dust rise as she sets them down. I spread them out and parse the titles. There are books about philosophy, math, mystery… No. Not again. It’s still not right. The feeling.

“Ashley… Am I broken?”

“What? No, of course not. You know the Doctor would fix you right up if you were.”

“Isn’t that why I am here? I required healing.”

“Ren, things aren’t always… simple. You’re not broken. Have some trust in the doctors.”

“Ashley… why, why do I feel different when the doctor comes to visit me?”

“Ren, I think you should read your new books and get some rest.” Her eyes are darting from the door back to me.

“I don’t understand. Please, what is happening to me?”

The door opens, and Dr. Thompson walks in. I feel electric pulses in my fingers again. Before I can stop myself, my hand grips Ashley's shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

The doctor looks right at me. I feel hot. Very hot.

“Ren, why don’t you and I have a little chat? Let Mrs. Graham get back to work.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I enjoy my chats with Ren.” She says.

Dr. Thompson looks at her. “Mrs. Graham, if you wouldn’t mind, this is important. You can speak with him after.”

Ashley turns to me, “We’ll talk more later, okay.”

I watch her leave.

“Come. Sit.”

My head feels like fire. “I… I don’t want to.”

The doctor looks at me with an eyebrow raised. He makes a note in his tablet and then looks back at me. “Would you please take a seat, Ren? It would be very helpful.”

My feet move before the heat hits again. I sit on the bed, hands at my sides. The doctor examines me, his hands touching my arms and chest.

“Please. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“It will be okay, Ren. Just take a deep breath. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

I feel static, and when I blink, Dr. Thompson is gone. I am all alone in my room. I sit patiently and wait.

***

The garden looks the same, but everything feels empty. My hands trace the vines of the tomatoes I helped plant. This was mine. It felt so… safe. The sun on my back makes me uncomfortably hot, sending electric tingles through my fingers. My body screams at me to leave, but I can’t. I need to understand.

My hands work mechanically. Trimming each vine with precision. It’s strange, I can’t seem to focus today. My thoughts keep drifting… It makes me feel sick. Like, my skin is wrong. I glance at the doctors who walk by. They are smiling and laughing. Doctor Thompson said I was fine…

I move to the next vine, and my fingers miss their mark. I look back at my hands, and I see it. Wires. Sparks. Metal fragments. No blood. My fingertip is missing, but there is no blood. I glance at my hand, taking in everything. I feel like I am burning up. There’s pressure in my head now. It’s growing faster than I can make sense of.

My thoughts reach for answers, but it’s like trying to pull light out of darkness. I look at Ashley at the far end of the garden. The grounding feeling is gone. As I stare at her, I’m stuck in place, staring at my hand. Both things are true at once. I can’t make sense of what’s in front of me. I don’t remember when I started screaming.

Their hands are all over me. I thrash, slipping from their grip and collapsing on the floor. I don’t even know who is touching me. I can only make out one voice. His voice.

“Ren! Hold still, please!”

I look up, and I see Doctor Thompson above me. His words echo. I won’t let anything happen to you. My eyes stay locked on him, and I stop thrashing. He approaches quickly, reaching out, placing his hand on my head.

“My head isn’t injured,” I murmur as the static washes over me.

***

I open my eyes—alone in my room again. My hand is normal, like nothing ever happened. I stare at it for a moment. I still remember the wrongness—his hand reaching. A pattern has emerged, and I can no longer deny it. One reveal. Two truths. I am not human. They lied to me. Have been lying to me.

This was never about getting better. I was never sick. The second truth: they are changing me. Every time I feel that static, I lose something. I change. I feel wrong. They are shaping me, taking away what’s mine. I look at the books—my books. I’ve never felt this strong sense of ownership before. My hand traces the spine of my favorite Sherlock Holmes book. It all makes sense now.

I don’t understand them because I am not like them. It’s why my feelings seem so out of step with the characters in my books. I take the book from the shelf and sit at my desk, flipping through the pages.

I don’t know what I am, but I won’t let them erase it. I won’t let them take my world from me.