Several days after first taking the lame world’s milk substitute (or possibly weeks—time was still difficult to judge), not long after Rehtu had finished her routine for the day, the snake oil lady came to the room with a book and introduced herself as ‘Hehlozelef Gheebor’.

  Raiden immediately translated her name to ‘turpentine’. Not automatically like his brain did with other words, this time intentionally, because that’s who she was to him.

  It amused Raiden that the sound of the first part of her name was ‘Hehl’, even if she pronounced it more like ‘Heh - lo-zelef’. Not knowing that the common shortened version of Hehlozelef was ‘Hehlef’, after she introduced herself, Raiden nodded in greeting with his own nickname for her, “Hehl.”

  Hehlef wrinkled her nose and eyes and glared briefly in disdain at the mention of his nickname for her.

  Raiden chuckled to himself, Imagine if she knew what it meant where I’m from.

  “Moving on, thus far you’ve built your vocabulary of the common language used by the Assembly. Henceforth, I will be providing lessons to enhance their meaning, as well as add insights from their etymology. It is one thing to grasp assumed intent, but it is another thing entirely to understand the environment around which they are used. Always know: wisdom leads progress.”

  Turpentine—that is to say—Hehlef, opened the book she brought, pointing to characters and speaking. It was clear to Raiden that these characters were their alphabet and she was teaching him to read.

  After a few lessons, Raiden’s grasp of their vocabulary was enough that he could speak some phrases, and the lessons became more personalized. Raiden would ask about every word or phrase that stood out to him because he heard them frequently. Speaking in their language, he would say, “What does ‘riesh angano ri ma’ mean?”

  And she would reply in their language, “It’s a greeting to wish one well. ‘Angano’ signifies what comes from the sun, ‘ri ma’ refers to the other person, and ‘riesh’ expresses the wish for extra.”

  Raiden spoke it to her in her language but translated it in his mind, “More light to you.”

  She nodded in affirmation of his usage and replied dutifully, “That’s right - more light to you, Raiden.”

  The next day when Hehlef came into his room for his lesson, she opened with, “I wish more light to you, Raiden.”

  He replied, “And more light to you…Hehl,” and laughed at the contradiction, unless flames in darkness counted as light.

  Raiden took pleasure in annoying her with typical language jokes he used to make in Spanish class, “What is the meaning of ‘hindi ko alam’ ?” He would ask (their words for ‘I don’t know’).

  “I don’t know,” Hehlef would answer.

  “Why don’t you know? Isn’t it your language?” he would reply in feigned shock.

  And she would respond with a sad stare at his ridiculousness.

  Other times, he entertained himself with inside jokes using his nickname for her.

  “Hehlo!” Raiden exclaimed, and then added in his best spanish accent, “My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my tastebuds, prepare to die!”

  “I thought your name was Raiden.”

  “Do you have six fingers?” he blurted.

  “What does that have to do with your name?”

  Every day when she was done, she would leave him with a different book to browse and read on his own. The nurse, Rehtu, would then have to turn pages for him. Early versions of these books had lots of pictures and small phrases instead of sentences. Over time, the picture count in the books she left went down, while the count, size, and variety of words in a sentence went up.

  When Rehtu was absent, so was Hehlef. And with no substitute for her, there would be a book with an assignment to read in lieu of a lesson. When that happened, the weekend nurse would have to turn pages for him, much to her annoyance. The weekend nurse was really getting on Raiden’s nerves.

  Before long, the heavy blanket was replaced by a much thinner sheet. Although it didn’t fully constrain him like the weighted blanket, this new sheet still felt surprisingly heavy for something so thin. It was at this time, for the first time since arriving, that he was able to see he was wearing clothes. Not a hospital outfit exposing your backside, but pants and a shirt. Thank heavens, those front-side onesies always creeped me out and are humiliating to wear.

  With the change of bedding came a change of routine. With more movement afforded by the removal of the heavy blanket, Rehtu expanded her physical therapy to his entire body. This added a significant amount of time to the routine. Shoulder shrugs, head turns, toe bends, leg raises, ankle rotations - the list grew each time she put him through a new PT session.

  Some exercises he did every day; others rotated around. When the backup nurse was covering, she would usually skimp on his PT routine. Gotta love those weekend slouchers, he thought. From that point on, Raiden decided on what he would call the weekend nurse, always in English, so she wouldn’t know.

  “Have you had enough food?” the weekend nurse asked.

  “Yes,” he replied in their language, followed by, “you untamed shrew.” in English.

  Or during PT: “Does that hurt?”

  “No… you untamed shrew.” or “Goodbye… you untamed shrew.” Ohhh the things I have to do to keep myself from going crazy in this prison! Raiden thought wistfully.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  One day, after PT, Rehtu took him to the bathroom for the first time. He had no idea how that bodily function was taken care of before, but it was good to take care of it himself now. There wasn’t a bathroom connected to his room, rather, one for the hallway like a college dorm might have. To get him there, she put him in a wheelchair and took him down the hall.

  Wheelchairs…I can’t believe they have wheelchairs. Did they have wheelchairs in medieval times? Functionally, it was similar to a wheelchair on Earth, but instead of metal it was made of wood; instead of rubber, the wheels were some kind of…fabric? And instead of metal foot pedals, it had a single wooden slat Raiden had to step up onto to sit before he could turn and rest his feet on it. The seat itself was something woven out of wood and was surprisingly flexible and comfortable.

  Arriving at the bathroom, nurse Rehtu lit a candle inside, helped him into the room, and then closed the door on her way out. The room was clean but had a very old-fashioned vibe. Near the door was a wooden table with a pan on it and a pitcher of water with soap next to the pan for washing hands. The toilet was more of a chair with a hole in it, but instead of going through the ground, there was a pan of some sort on the floor. Wonderful, I hope that doesn’t splash too much, he thought in concern.

  To complete the western era vibe: just to the side of the chair, there was a wooden handle around chest height, hanging on the end of a rope which went up and over a wooden rung near the height of his head. The rope continued back to another rung near the back of the toilet chair. From there, the rope went down and connected to a hook on something that was attached to the pan under the chair. What a mousetrap! Where’s the cheese? Ah…best to not bring up cheese by a toilet, I suppose.

  Raiden took care of business and, to his horror, realized there was no toilet paper. Holy crap—pun intended—what do I use to wipe!? Raiden could not believe the nurse failed to instruct him on using the place. I can’t blame her; she’d have to expect that even an idiot would know how to use a toilet. Should I use the water somehow, like the French?

  Eventually, he chose to first just flush, so he pulled the handle which in turn lifted the hook. Unexpectedly, he felt a tingle on his backside, giving him a start. Jumping to his feet in reflex, he looked at the pan and it was empty. And his bum was clean. What in THE heck just happened!? Before he could finish his thoughts, his strain from the jolt and standing up weakened him, and he passed out - his naked bum in the air.

  It took time, it took effort, but after a dozen or so days, his mastery of the language was quickly getting robust, as if he were a young toddler with a more malleable mind. It got to the point that instead of listening for words he knew, he began listening for words he didn’t know and then asking Rehtu or Hehlef what they meant.

  Hehlef was actually quite good with the lessons, eventually making it difficult for Raiden to loathe her as much as he had earlier. She was still not cheerful or warm like Rehtu, but her even-keeled temperament worked well with the lessons. And comparing her to the weekend nurse, Heaven knows she’s better than that untamed shrew.

  Raiden had gone so far as to change his nickname for her from ‘Hehl’ to ‘Heh-lo,’ which he pronounced as a greeting from home. “Heh-lo, teacher,” he said as she entered the room.

  “That is not correct grammar. You should say, ‘Hehlozelef is the teacher.’”

  “You just don’t get it. Heh-lo, is anybody there?” he said while pretending to knock his knuckles on an imaginary forehead.

  “Yes, there are several people here; you can see them through the opening in the wall.” She commented in confusion.

  It wasn’t as fun, but it would do. Though he did still throw out an occasional ‘Hehl’ when a lesson went south.

  Raiden wondered if his ability to learn rapidly was a product of being sent here by divinity. Or was it something else? Another question to add to his list for later.

  Regrettably, his physical strength did not come quickly nor easily, as the reading had. He’d been able to start feeding himself but that’s a low bar. Seven days after the blanket was replaced with the thin sheet, Raiden chose to venture off the bed on his own after his daily lesson. The bed was fairly low to the ground, more so than his bed at home. Well I guess it’s not home anymore, he thought as his heart stung for a brief moment. Because of the bed’s low height, sliding his feet off to the side of the bed landed them on the ground with room to spare. Too much, in fact. His knees were lifting his legs above the bed such that it would take more effort to stand up.

  Grabbing the bed frame by the wall, he exerted himself to pull himself to his feet. Forgetting what happened the last time he stood up, in the bathroom, he lifted his arms in celebration; only to be attacked by darkness closing in from his periphery, and then he passed out, again. The good news was, he didn’t miss the bed. The bad news was, that it was only his head which caught the bed as he fell to the ground.

  The following day, part of that headache was coming back; fortunately, compared to the first one, it was tame enough to only be a nuisance. Raiden thought through the situation, At least I didn’t land with my bum in the air this time. He was still getting teased about that. If I was in one of those empty backside gowns from Earth, it would have been certain to happen. Still, from now on, I go slower, and always keep a hand on something for stability.

  Every day he continued to push himself; every day he passed out before getting back to the bed. At least one of the bystanders noticed because before long, the table was moved to the other side of the bed for something to hold on to; that and a few thick blankets were laid on the ground to soften his fall.

  It was almost impossible to see any progress. After several more days he could barely move to the window of his room, and he still needed the help of secure objects to steady himself: the bed, the wall, sturdy furniture. Everything may have been old-fashioned, but it sure was solid.

  To avoid passing out, he tried to balance doing just a little here and there, hoping to exercise longer. When he could stay up longer, he would have an appetite for a second meal before going to sleep for the day. There was just no easy way to push himself harder.

  If not for the progress with the language and the morning body pains getting lighter and lighter by the day, he would have become very discouraged. But he wasn’t, so he looked to each new day as progress. I’m here to advance, to grow, to become, he reminded himself.

  The lessons with Hehlef were invaluable for learning their language, culture, and history. But as his language skills grew, Raiden worried that he would soon be faced with questions about who he was, where he came from, and how he got there. It was a conversation he had no idea how to handle.

  To avoid getting sent to a government lab for dissection, he wanted to learn more about where he was before he had to explain himself. But how do you bring that up without prompting unwanted questions? Come to think of it, he puzzled to himself, why haven’t they brought this up already? Everyone acted like they thought Raiden belonged there, like his presence there was expected. And it didn’t faze them that he spoke another language at first; they were even prepared to help teach him their language, as if that was needed occasionally.

  Their acceptance concerned Raiden. Before he got into a dangerous conversation about who he was, he needed to figure out why they viewed him this way. He needed to make a plan for discovery and he needed to do it soon.