Grass. That was the first thing. Grass, and a sky so blue it felt like it was showing off.
I could not tell how long I had been lying there. I tried to remember how I got here. Then where here was. Then, with growing concern, who I was. Nothing answered.
Stranger still, I felt almost nothing. No ache, no cold, no weight. A man lying in a field should at least feel the field.
Maybe I was dead. Maybe this was a dream. I did not like how easily either one fit.
I raised a hand to shield my eyes. It was not a hand.
Metal, jointed like bone. I told it to close, and it closed, without a sound. So it was mine. That should have been more comforting than it was.



