Dec. 6th, 2006

simon_doctor: (awake)
His sense of time is starting to slip.

Simon notices this more than once, and then forgets it in the blur of -- no, it isn't really a blur. It's closer to a kaleidoscope image: countless reflected shapes, sharp-edged, brightly colored, constantly moving. Too many things whirling by to let him focus on any one, but he can see them all clearly at once.

It's the delusion of clarity, he tells himself at times. Of course, he can only tell himself that once the moment of delusion has passed. That becomes the gauge for whether or not his mind is really clear: if he can doubt his perception, it's likelier to be reliable.

This is no help at all during the times when he can't.

They won't let him into the infirmary, and that's completely infuriating. He's the doctor. He has work to do. He explains this at some length, to no avail; he curses at Mal, and at the Alliance guards, and at Eddie Dean, until someone comes with the hypodermic full of artificial sleep and sends him spinning down into blackness again.



It's a little better when he wakes up. At least briefly.

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