Swamped

You remember what you saw. You're having a hard time believing it was real.

And you've just been told you got a dose of a weird gas.

"So, uh... does that stuff make you see things?" you ask cautiously. "That, glaxon or whatever."

"Glaxin," Donnie says automatically. "And I can't say firmly. We don't have a lot of studies on it yet, most people exposed to large amounts either died or passed out. Nothing about it on people exposed to small amounts. But you only got enough to knock you out after strenuous physical activity, and I don't think we have any information on that sort of situation. Why, do you think you were hallucinating?"

"I saw..." You rub your head. "Well, I saw something. Didn't feel very real. Looked like a man made out of those bugs in the lady's room? Think it punched me in the face."

Donnie shrugs.

"Well, I didn't find any injuries on your face, make of that what you will. It might be you saw someone as you were losing consciousness and misunderstood what you were seeing, though in that case they were quite negligent not to come to your aid immediately. No one was around when we found you."

You rub your head again. Maybe that's all it was. Maybe some sailor was slacking off behind the stairs and decided to run before you could pin the blame on them.

"So, um. What do I do now?" you ask.

"Well, I'll keep you under observation and when you seem all right, I'll send you back to your quarters. With a recommendation to keep you off physical labor for a day or so."

Makes sense, you suppose.

"Not a lot I can do while I'm in here, though."

Donnie laughs a little.

"Yes, I'm afraid we're a little starved for entertainment. I do have a few books - you can read, right?"

"Yeah, but only if it's in..."

You pause for a moment. You're still a little dizzy. You need to gather your thoughts to remember your native language.