At first, the faint blue lights looked like a grid, slowly bleeding through the cracks in the air. It was subtle but annoyingly persistent, like a tiny print smudged on a pair of eyeglasses. Only this was ten times worse because he couldn't wipe it away like he could a lens.
He complained about it to the surgeon who performed the operation, but even when the man finally listened to Mikel and examined his eye, all the tests came back clear. Since it wasn't interfering with his recovery, Mikel was simply told to report if it got worse.
For a while, the blue light disappeared — only to reappear today. This time, however, it wasn't just faint, blurry lines. It had become a clear screen outline — like those seen in first-person perspective games. The thing was, it might have looked like one, but it wasn't.
Blink… blink…
[SHAMAN PROTOCOL…]
Mikel reached out slightly, trying to touch the mysterious screen in front of him. But all he could see through his still-blurred vision was his own hand in the background.
I can't touch it.
He squinted his right eye, then his left.
"I can only see it through this left one," he whispered, furrowing his brows at the blinking ellipses after the words [SHAMAN PROTOCOL…].
"Am I dreaming?"
Mikel blinked once, slowly, then twice. On the third blink, more text appeared:
[SHAMAN PROTOCOL INTEGRATING WITH NEW HOST…]
[1/1000]
[SYNCING HOST AND SYSTEM… please wait.]
"Oy! What do you mean by downloading?" His eyes widened, and his heart began drumming in his chest. He tried to swat the screen away, but to no avail. Instinctively, Mikel squeezed both eyes shut, thinking whatever was happening might stop.
But when he peeked again, he gasped.
[Synchronization progress: 500/1000]
"Shit," Mikel panicked. "Why is this thing so fast?"
Did that surgeon implant some shady chip in him, too?
How was he even seeing this?
Turning to the elderly man in the next bed, he asked, "Grandpa, can you see this?"
The old man just smiled blankly. Mikel hissed and raised his voice.
"GRANDPA, CAN YOU SEE THIS TOO?!"
"Hah?!"
"This thing! It's like downloading!" — or dome-loading, more like.
"Freeloading?!" the old man yelled back. "No, I work here!"
"No — not! I mean, blue screen!"
"Sin?! Kid, I've lived my whole life for the Lord! But yes, I have sinned, and I repent."
"God damn it," Mikel groaned. "YOU'LL SURELY GO TO HEAVEN!"
Why did I even think asking him would help?
He refocused on the screen, his heart skipping a beat as his ears filled with the sound of his own heartbeat. His eyes widened.
[Synchronization progress: 998/1000]
He gulped, the sound loud in his head. He had no idea what this "Shaman Protocol" thing was — and human nature dictated that, when faced with uncertainty, one's mind always jumped to the worst.
The progress bar crawled like it was taunting him, knowing he was watching closely and enjoying the face he was making.
[Synchronization progress: 1000/1000]
Then, the numbers vanished — replaced by a new message:
---
[Greetings, Master.
Welcome to Shaman Protocol.
My name is Doom. I will be at your service till your end.]
---
Mikel raised his eyebrows, staring at the text in disbelief. He almost flinched when the entire screen zapped out of existence.
"Huh?"
At that moment, the attending doctor entered the ward, accompanied by a few junior doctors and nurses.
"Mikel, how are you feeling?" The doctor came to his bedside, smiling — only to pause when he noticed Mikel staring blankly into space. "Mikel?"
The nurses and junior residents exchanged puzzled glances before turning their attention back to him. The doctor waved a hand in front of Mikel's face, finally snapping him out of it.
"Mikel, are you alright?"
Mikel stared at him for a moment, then finally found his voice. "Uh… yes."
Just a little baffled.
"I'm here to do our routine check. Your last test showed promising results…" As the doctor droned on, Mikel's thoughts drifted elsewhere.
He had definitely seen that screen. The synchronization progress, the text — all of it. Now it was just gone. No blue light. No floating words. Nothing.
"Mikel, you mentioned the blue light last time," the doctor said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you still seeing it?"
"Uh… yeah," Mikel cleared his throat. "Just now."
"Just now?"
"Yeah."
"Are you still seeing it?"
He hesitated, then shook his head.
"You don't see it anymore?" the doctor pressed.
"No… it just disappeared." His voice was laced with confusion, the creases in his brow deepening. "Doc, I don't think it's just a light. Before it vanished, I saw it clearly — it wasn't a light, it was a screen."
The doctor furrowed his brows. "A screen?"
"Yes! A screen!" Mikel insisted. "It showed some strange thing — like a 'Shaman' something."
They stared at each other in silence.
He doesn't believe me, does he?
"Mikel, you've been on heavy medication for your treatment," the doctor sighed. "But even though your last results looked promising, I'll schedule another eye exam, okay?"
I don't think what you need to check is my eye anymore, though.
Mikel let out a quiet sigh, his brow twitching. As he glanced past the doctor, his gaze landed on one of the nurses standing behind him — a bubbly young woman who was smiling warmly at him.
Is she new here?
"Mikel?" the doctor's voice brought him back. "Alright?"
"Sure," Mikel replied with a nod, even though he didn't listen.
"Once we confirm you're stable, you'll be cleared to go home," the doctor said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're a good kid."
"…"
As the doctor walked away, Mikel shook his head. He'd been in the hospital for almost three months now since the incident. There wasn't anyone waiting for him at home, but even that sounded better than sharing a room with someone constantly testing his vocal cords, ears, and patience.
As he leaned back, his brows lifted.
"What are you still doing here, nurse?" he asked, staring at the same young nurse who had smiled at him earlier. Despite his still-blurred vision, he could see her grin as she approached.
She gently placed a hand on his arm. Her touch made him frown. Her hand was cold. Very cold.
"You are a good boy," she whispered softly. Her voice was sweet, but something about it made his gut twist with unease.
Mikel watched as she walked away, not catching the nurse's absent shadow.
"…Well, that's a little creepy."