The sound drifts in from afar, like the wind rustling through a field of grass, already as old and weathered as the ages before it has even arrived. Vision, a blank screen hums into life, neon green characters lighting it up. “Connection resumed.” She opens her eyes and life slowly grinds back into focus, reluctantly racking back and forth seeking clarity. Raindrops streak down against a glass door, drawing patterns, graphs, connections, neurons in slow motion upon the canvas of the dark of night. And then, as if she’s been holding in her breath for her entire life, she exhales.