At the final moment, it seemed someone came up behind him.
Darkness obscured the sky.
The whole world was shattering to destruction.
·
·
When Medanzo woke up again, what he heard was the sound of the heart rate monitor.
In front of him was a pure white ceiling; he lay in a hospital bed, his body full of wires, as nurses moved about him, his father's face gradually coming into focus.
"You're awake, and it's lucky you're alive; it seemed that God went berserk in that lost language. Where exactly it went, we have no clue, probably caught in a time-space turbulence. It's possible it's still on Earth, or it might have gone to some other star system; we simply don't know."
His father said, "At least on Earth, there are no signs of God seeking a host. Otherwise, we would probably see news about cancer patients getting shot in the head out of the blue. Anyway, although the process was quite thrilling, we should consider it a success."
Medanzo rarely smiled, but he didn't speak.
