He tallied the score. Twenty-five. Up ten points from admission. A clinical victory. A human catastrophe.
Hiro set his jaw. He pushed with his right arm, braced his right leg, and heaved. For a terrifying second, he hovered, a fragile pendulum of flesh and bone, then collapsed back onto the mattress.
The notes were slow. Some were wrong. But they hung in the sterile air like a small, stubborn miracle.
Aris made a note: Feeding = 5/10 (needs help cutting).
