Hammon

https://www.chickensmoothie.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=53&t=3223078&hilit=hammon

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There's a hollow knocking noise in the distance, the rhythm slow and steady. Quite unlike your heartbeat. You struggle to open your eyes. They feel stuck together, and it's uniquely satisfying when you manage to pull them apart and rub your pads against them to remove the crust. Are you still asleep? You ruffle your paw through your own fur. Yes, you are. The normally sensitive skin beneath your ruff doesn't react. Opening your eyes hasn't really helped; you can't see anything.

It's hard to concentrate. Where is that noise coming from? It seems to be getting louder, slamming against itself. Is it inside your own head? You're not sure. Your eyes want to close again. It's hard to move, but it's important that you do. You're not sure how you know that. Force your eyes open. There you go. Look around. Most of your surroundings are nothing, so little there that you have to look away quickly. There's no way to comprehend how complete the void before you is, how much it wants to swallow you up.

You turn. What is that in the distance? You can't quite make it out, but it's certainly something. Standing on all four feet, you begin to walk. It's strange to walk on nothing, certain each placement of your foot will have you falling, your scream trapped in the silence of the dimensionless void. It's a dream, you remind yourself, but you don't bother to speak the words because you know you will not hear anything.

As you approach a strong breeze blows from the thing. The noise is louder, if that's possible. You've lost the sound of your heartbeat. Clang. Clang. Clang. Steady. It's only the volume that changes. Your fur ruffles, but you only know that because you can see it from the corner of your eyes. You feel nothing, stepping on nothing. You don't tire, though if time is a construct in this place, hours have passed. Is it getting farther away? Will you ever reach it?

You try to wake yourself up, throw yourself to the ground in defeat. It's not possible. The thought crosses your mind but it never translates into action. You dare yourself to turn around, mentally arguing with this place. You know that in essence, you're talking to yourself. It's futile. You begin to step forward again, the smooth pace in direct contrast to the banging that makes you want to hold your ears, stop so you can hide from it. Eventually, it becomes part of you. You hardly notice it any longer.

Finally, as if it was waiting for you to admit defeat, you have arrived. You stop, nearly toppling forward, but regain your balance quickly. Smokestacks rise high into the non-existant sky, everything lit from within rather than without. It's a curious building, for all its industrial austerity you feel drawn to it. The cold metal of its construction is inviting to you, encouraging you to step into its depths. You do, of course. This is what you've been heading towards the whole time; it would be a crime not to explore.

The walls are the same unfeeling steel and iron once you enter. There is no warmth; no softness. Before you it assembles itself, the rooms filled with bits of scrap as they arrange themselves into a home for you, just the way you would want it if it was made of wood, plaster, and fabric. But it can't be, can it? You reach the center, a fireplace, almost. Instead of logs and flames there is oil and gears. Instead of matches, there is a crank. You begin to turn it.

The noise comes to the front of your mind again, Clang. clang. Clang. clang. Clang. clang. You pause, and the smaller secondary noises pause as well, the steady one-note bangs returned. You start turning again, faster. Clang. clang. Clang. clang. Clang. clang. Clang. clang. Clang. clang. You're giving it everything you have, bringing the heartbeat pattern forward. As soon as the thought crosses your mind you know that you are correct.

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You struggle to open your eyes. They feel stuck together, and it's uniquely satisfying when you manage to pull them apart and rub your pads against them to remove the crust. Are you still asleep? You struggle to lift your paw and ruffle it through your own fur. No, you are awake. There is a bright light somewhere nearby, as if you are coming to the end of a tunnel and the world is opening up for you again.

Clang. clang. Clang. clang. Clang. clang. The noise is still there. You struggle to focus, your paw on your chest. Pain shoots through your body, and you look down to see a pure white bandage, the first thing you have been able to focus on. "Oh," you try to say, but your voice isn't even a whisper. A paw comes into your field of vision, pressing a chip of ice to your lips. They separate with a gasp.

"You almost didn't make it," an unfamiliar voice says. "Good thing you signed that waiver; looks like your new artificial heart is doing just fine." You smile, slightly, remembering things you could not in the dream, the way your heart always used to skip beats. "Well, we'll keep you under observation," the voice says, obviously not expecting you to speak, "but you should be able to go home in a few weeks. For now, just get some rest."

You close your eyes again, drifting back into dreams. You're not sure what you expected, but you're back at the fireplace, your paws turning the crank. Better not stop. You don't want to skip a beat.