2026.03.28
cut3 The Faceless Rescuer
When I open my eyes, an unfamiliar ceiling is above me—
stained and finely cracked, as if in an old house.
I try to sit up and notice signs of emergency repairs across my body.
Not perfect, but the necessary parts have been tended to with precision.
Someone repaired me. Of that, there is no doubt.
On a shelf by the wall, daily goods and small items are piled in disorder,
and only the quiet trace of long habitation remains.
I turn my gaze to the right.
Food and a drink have been set on the table.
Beside them—tools.
The kind used to disassemble and mend delicate devices.
Metal parts, connector pins, thin cables.
A few technical manuals, and even handwritten notes.
Care and repair—
it’s natural to think the same person did both.
And yet, no one is here.
Not by the doorway, not by the window—no human figure.
Only the faint sense that someone was here moments ago.
Silently, I scan the room.
I can understand that I’ve been saved.
Someone found me, carried me here,
and fixed what they could.
