“Ser, your tests came back.”

The doctor clicked his pincers in what I could only assume was supposed to be an encouraging gesture. The deep blue tone of his exoskeleton was thoroughly out of place in the sterile, white, clinical infirmary.

He almost reminded me of my home planet, his appearance reminiscent of an insect found there called a mantis. I hadn’t seen Earth in years. Planet Carbonem of...

I always hated hospitals.

They were too clean. Sterile. Unfeeling. Like a robotic, ever present guard, holding you captive. They always pretended you had a choice. As if they would let you leave. As if it wasn’t a prison. At least prisoners get to go outside.

I haven’t left my room in months. They barely let me even get out of bed. Apparently there’s a point you reach where they decide you aren’...