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<P><JC><B>CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Silent Storm
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<P>There was a sudden light. Excruciating light that cannot be comprehended by sight, and so expands to all other senses, drowning Dominic in a nonexistent expanse. For a moment he felt completely peaceful, for peace often comes wrapped in void, and then the smell of his own sweat entered his nostrils, and he returned to the physical world.
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<P>Now the brilliant white changed to various shades of every color imaginable. These colors swam around his body like a magnificent wind, manipulating the appearance of his clothing. It was almost beautiful, the multitude of things he could see. He tried to turn his head, but it remained stationary. He wanted to see all of it. He wanted to drink the beauty around him. And then there was a loud noise.
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<P>A whirring, followed by several noises made only by machines. Noises fathomed only by great bodies of metal. The colors paused. Then began again. And then paused.
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<P>Everything shut down with a low hum.
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<P>Dominic was once again standing in the large operating room, beneath the behometh of a machine that Tong used for a wide range of tasks.
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<P>The room was suddenly very plain. The walls were of blank metal. The brilliant colors were gone. Dom looked at his hands. Nothing changed. The process was completely painless. He looked up, to Tong, who was framed in a lit window near the ceiling.
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<P>There was the whine of an intercom. Tong's voice cut through. "There doesn't appear to be anything physically wrong with you. Actually, you seem to be in perfect health. That's a good sign." He paused and pressed some buttons on the numerous terminals before him, then allowed a frown. "Okay, you can come back up. This analysis has told me nothing of use."