“No!” He thought. They could not do this! If only they knew his capabilities. Though his body had decayed, his mind had remained true, and so Michael had cultivated it, grown it within himself. Years of theorising and thought experiments can make even the dullest of people become erudite savants. And so he devised his own way to heal himself. It worked.

His fingers had already begun to twitch, aching to feel once more. His propriocognition told him that, anyway. His eyesight was still gone. But he had recovered his hearing, fixed the auditory nerve. But what he heard shocked him. He heard voices. He didn’t recognise them. They were muffled, and he could only hear the occasional word. But still, he could hear them.

“He is in a vegetative state. I am sorry, Ma’am, but there is no treatment we can offer him. It is too expensive to keep him of life support. Please, just think about it.

No! If only they knew the things he could do. Thousands of new inventions, diagrams and laws of physics. They cannot do this to him!