Mesopotamia - The Redeemer by Yehuda Israely, Dor Raveh

have yet to fully
delve into the recesses of the human mind.”
    She squeezed the strangers hand
gently in hopes of receiving some sort of sign.
    “I am Sophia,” she whispered.
    “I am Sophia,” she repeated five
more times, slowly and patiently, but to no response.
    “Signal to me by nodding your
head,” she asked in vain.
    “Squeeze my hand,” she continued a
number of times, again in vain.
    “Who is he?” asked Janis
curiously.
    “We can only know that once he
wakes,” said Sophia as she stood up and walked away before Janis
had a chance to challenge her with additional questions.
     
    The rounded walls of the corridors
gave off soft, warm shades of brown and yellow light. The edge of
the hall was lit more brightly and led through an arched opening to
the infirmary. Doctor Janis, brow furrowed with wrinkles of age and
worry, sat at the head of the stranger's bed.
    “How is he doing?” The stranger
heard a woman's voice inquire through the mists that covered his
consciousness. He did not know it, but this woman had been visiting
him in the infirmary every single day for the past week.
    “No change,” replied Janis.
    “No response?”
    “No clear response. He sometimes
nods his head but not consistently.”
    “Open your eyes,” she told the
stranger.
    He did not respond.
    She repeated the sentence, as had
become her habit every day for the past week, but to no avail.
    “Squeeze my hand,” she tried a
different approach. On the fifth time, she felt something. Euphoria
rushed over her.
    “Squeeze my hand again,” she
requested.
    After a few long seconds, he
squeezed her hand again.
    He had begun to wake up. His eyes
were still shut. He felt a sense of warmth enveloping him in nearly
perfect comfort, save for an irritating tingling in his left hand.
He slowly lifted his heavy eyelids. He found himself in a small
room with rounded walls that was hardly bigger than the bed he was
laying in. In addition to the bed, the room contained a chair and
transparent display. The bed and walls were in shades of white,
blue and pink, softly lit in a way that made him think of being
inside a large shell. The opening in one of the walls seemed to
lead to a hallway in shades of brown and yellow.
    He tried to move his body and
immediately identified the source of the irritating tingle. A small
monitoring device that was attached to his left hand softly chimed
at that moment. A man with silvery hair and a light brown robe
stood at his side, examining the data on the display. A silhouette
blocked the light coming from the opening. He identified a woman in
a blue gown, and when she approached he saw her eyes: blue like
deep, clear lakes. Her hair was brown, her face round and beautiful
and her expression was kindhearted. He suddenly felt an intense
dryness in his mouth and throat.
    “I'm thirsty,” he muttered.
    'He speaks Interstellar,' she
thought. 'That means he is a member of one of the enlightened
cultures, but his accent is not Pythagorean. Was Thales correct in
thinking that he is a pirate?' She brought close to his mouth a
small tube inside a small container which slowly dispensed a sweet
liquid, delicious and foreign. He sat up slightly in the bed and
cleared his throat. “Where am I?”
    The woman smiled and helped him sit
upright. “You are in the Samos Space Station. This is Janis, the
station's doctor, and I am Sophia, the station master. Who are
you?” He looked at her curiously.
    When he tried to respond, it became
clear to him that he had no answer. He could not remember a single
thing. Neither his name nor the place he came from. A vast expanse
of emptiness remained where his memories used to be. He was
silent.
    “Who are you?” she repeated her
question.
    Finally, he answered, “I do not
know.”
    He felt a painful pressure in his
head. He looked around for hints of memories that may aid him in
recalling his identity. Nothing.
    She noticed his scared expression.
'He does not look like a pirate to