Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Tag: mandarin

Hypnopomp

Wake up with something warm beside me in my bed, fumble for my glasses. I can feel the weight of a woman in the bed next to me and at the same time I know that is impossible. Hold both thoughts in my mind, waiting for one of them to cancel the other out. Realize that I’m holding my breath and gasp for air. The warmth does not stir. The scent of mandarins finds its way into my nostrils, and I can’t remember yesterday. Find my glasses. Feel shame.

For a few moments there I actually believed it was you.

Ceremony and Celebration

They spoke an Old Earth language: a dialect of Mandarin. It was forcefully injected into his brains moments before he was given the honour. It pushed his name out of his head.

“It is a great honour,” Kannyo Madita said, though the man only heard every other word, “to reopen this position, and make that your new and only name.” She repeated his new name in the Old Earth tongue, and he understood it as Prisoner-Ambassador.

The language was still establishing itself in his skull when he was pushed into the cubicle and saw the door melt into the wall.