I woke up in a daze in an unfamiliar bright white room. I noticed the invasively pungent smell of bleach in the air, which vaguely reminded me of hospitals.

Then suddenly I remembered the knife sticking out of my gut and jerked back in response, slamming my back on the bedpost. My hand slapped the place where the knife was supposed to be and my eyes darted right behind it to prove the validity of my thought. Fear made my heart lurch. Something beeped aggressively behind me. I didn’t find any knives sticking out of my abdomen, inflating my mood slightly. My tension was released, and the beeping monster behind me slowly went back to sleep, snoring consistently like before.

I looked back in confusion and saw a very familiar heart rate monitor showing a very healthy pulse and heart rate behind me.

“I’m in a hospital?” I mumbled in confusion. Then I saw the fluid lines connected to my left arm and figured that it might be true. There was a glucose bottle hanging from the stand next to my bed. Next to a half-empty blood bag hung with the used line coiled around it. I had never seen a real blood bag before. It made me stare. I wasn’t curious, simply… astonished.

It took me a good while to get over it and look around.

I was alone in the most likely private room.

I didn’t act dizzy as most people do in movies, trying to snatch my line and walking away dragging the medical stand behind them. Perhaps, it was my enhanced intelligence. I knew the cause and effect of my situation and felt lucky to be alive. The knife could have easily ended up in my heart.

I wondered what they did with the knife. I couldn’t help but gently rub my hand over the supposed wound and found the area plain without any protrusions. I most definitely had an operation. It gave me Goosebumps just imagining the situation. I lying there on the road, bleeding out of my gut, with the crowd gathered around.

I sat up trying to see what they had done to me, but it was impossible to remove my medical garb or look under it without standing up. I wasn’t that needy. I just sighed, couldn’t even curse myself for being stupid.

Did I have to go after the thief? Couldn’t I have checked with Data Vision if the thief was carrying a weapon on him? It could have also checked the probability of me catching the thief with and without injury. I could have done many things if the thief wasn’t on the run and I wasn’t strapped for time.

Well, no point crying over spilled milk. I turned on Data Vision and looked at my charts.

While I was only 85% healthy, I was not in any danger and successfully recovering. Three cheers to me. I also noticed that my glycogen levels were higher than the last time I had checked.

I remembered the glucose I.V. drip and a blub lit up in my mind. Perhaps, there was a better source of glucose present other than potatoes and chapatti’s after all. Then I saw the 10% glucose written in black and bold on the transparent bag, causing my hope to develop a clot, leading to amputation. So long my idea. It was nice meeting you.

I saw my phone lying on the bedside table and picked it up. It still had power, which was always nice. The first surprise was the date and time. It was noon on October 10. I had slept right through the night and morning. Which I took for granted considering I had been awake for over 30 hours. It made sense for my brain to shut off to heal for a night and morning. I was definitely on pain medication too since I couldn’t feel anything different from my abdomen.

Then I saw the tens of missed calls from my parents, Abhey and Kartik and my heart fell. There were also a few messages. All the missed calls were registered between 4:30 to 7:00 pm yesterday. Then a call from my mother was received at 7:05 pm. It was a received call that was a minute and a half long. I guessed that was when someone from the hospital heard or saw the phone screen light up and told my parents about my situation. My phone was on silent. So it made sense that it took so long for someone to pick up the phone. Thankfully, my parents didn’t have to wait all day and night for someone to crack through the security. 

There were a few messages from Kartik and Abhey too, both asking me where I was and what I was doing.

It was 11:00 am now. I was just checking through the phone when the door opened and scared the shit out of me. I hurriedly hid the phone as if afraid someone would catch me watching porn. I choked when I saw my mother standing at the door stunned. She carried a heavy black plastic bag in one hand and her phone in the other. We started at each other and then my eyes started burning and growing blurry.

“Ma,” I spoke tremblingly.

My mother rushed into the room, hugged me, and started crying. Her grip was so tight yet so secure. I felt so safe in her arms.

“Oh, my child,” She said through the sobbing.
I grabbed her arms and dug my face into her shoulder like a kid lost in the crowd who had finally found his mother.
We hugged for a while before she pulled back. She didn’t sit back but grabbed my face in her big fat hands and fired a barrage of questions in a hurry and worry.
“How are you? Are you all right? Does it hurt?”
Her eyes were red. Her dark circles were more prominent and more pronounced. She was trembling, her voice cracking. I couldn’t see her like that.

“I’m fine, ma,” I said cheerfully hoping it did something. “It hurts though,”
“What? Where? Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“My face, ma-- my face hurts. Your hands are too strong. They are like pliers.”
“Stupid, idiot, rascal. You have the heart to make a joke!” She said slapping me on the shoulder. I say slapping, but she barely touched me. Her hands were as light as a feather duster.

She made sure I was fine, then left the room to call a doctor. 

A few minutes later, she returned with a nurse dressed in a white shirt and pants. She was tall, taller than most girls, and thin as a bean spoke. Her cheeks were red like someone had pinched them and had her hair done in a bun behind her head. She was so pretty I couldn’t help staring.

The nurse frowned in return. I thought she hated me for staring, but I was wrong.

“Who told you to sit up? You should lie down or you risk pulling the stitches. Please lie down.”
“But I’m feeling fine,” I cringed at the squeaky voice that came out of my throat. There went my first impression down the drain.
“Aunty, you tell him. I’ll call the doctor,” The nurse whose nametag read Naina complained to my mother and then left the room as briskly as she had appeared.
“I’m fine ma,” I complained to her too which fell on deaf ears.

I saw the redness receding from her eye and her face hardening up and knew she wouldn’t listen to me.

“All right, all right, don’t get angry. I’m lying down. Don’t yell at me or I’ll complain to the doctor that you are disturbing the patient.” Perhaps I spoke too soon because her worry receded and irritation took its place again.
“You call the doctor and I’ll tell him to put the knife back in your gut.” She snapped at me.
“I’m a hero ma.” I joked. “They are gonna give me an award--”
She grimaced. “What kind of a hero gets stabbed while trying to catch a small-time thief? Besides who gave you the confidence to run after a thief? Did your mind go grazing? Didn’t you think he might have a weapon? It’s the phones; they are the problem. If I had stopped you from watching all those horrible movies then we wouldn’t be here. Tell me where you hid it?”

I pushed the phone under my back to hide it from her.  

“Don’t blame the phone Ma. It’s your son who’s stupid.”

My mother might have had a few more words to say if the door hadn’t opened and a doctor hadn’t followed the nurse inside the room.

“You look lively enough.” The doctor jested. He was a man in his forties. Had an approachable face and carried a smile that made me comfortable. Clean shaved, dark pants, and a pink shirt under the doctor's white coat. He carried a stethoscope around his neck and a few other tools in his bulging pockets. He looked trustworthy. My ma thought so too because she stopped harassing me and stood silently aside as soon as the doctor approached the bedside.

“How are you feeling? Do you feel any stiffness in your abdomen?” He said looking through my charts before moving on to check my abdomen.
My ma and the nurse listened quietly from the side.
“I’m feeling fine. No stiffness or such but why I’m not feeling my pain?” I asked while he was probing my stomach.  
“Because of the painkillers,” The doctor said moving on from my stomach to checking my eyes.
“What are you looking for?”
“Seeing if they are yellow-- open your mouth,” The doctor asked me.

I followed and he looked inside my mouth with a torch. I don’t know what he was looking for but he seemed optimistic enough, which was a good sign. I knew I was fine. I was at 85% health. I complied with the doctor to assure my mother. She was anxious. I didn’t know what kinda night she’d passed. I felt sorry for her, for putting her and my family through this ordeal. I wished I hadn’t done something so stupid.

“There is no need to be anxiousness.” The doctor told us. “Everything looks normal. We’ll do some more tests tonight to see if there are any changes to his condition--”
“Then can I leave?”I asked, earning a glare from my mother.
The doctor gave a chuckle. “You don’t like your room?”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant--”
He interrupted. “If everything’s right, we can discharge you in the morning. You are a very lucky man. The knife almost penetrated your peritoneal cavity. A little deeper and your intestines would have been damaged then it would have been a major operation. I know it’s a commendable thing to stand up for someone, but you should take care of yourself. Don’t take on troubles that are bigger than you.” Then he nodded to my mother.

“Any questions?”

“Yes,” I said. “Can I have something to eat? I’m hungry.”

“Of course,” The doctor smiled. “I’ll send someone to get something for you. I should remind you, it’s best if you don’t eat any processed foods while you are healing. Don’t waste your body’s energy trying to digest stuff like meat which it can use to heal the wound. All right, that’s it for now. You can tell the nurse if you have any problems. I’ll come around in the evening to see how you are doing.”

“Thank you, doctor,” My mother said and I followed.

My mother took a seat on the chair by the bedside after the doctor left. I could tell that she had something on her mind. I didn’t have to wait long before she started speaking.

“You scared us, you know. I knew something happened to you when you didn’t pick up the phone. We looked everywhere for you. Your brother went to the sports college to see if you were there. Your dad checked the market and called your friends. They were still when my call connected and a nurse answered--” She wiped her eyes with her dupatta and told me in a pleading voice, “Promise me you won’t don’t do it again. You don’t need to prove anything.”

I had never seen her so vulnerable before. My eyes watered seeing her like this. “I promise,” I said, but I didn’t know that it wouldn’t be long before I would break this promise.

Eventually, a hospital staff member brought me a tray of hospital food. It was as bad as expected. There was white rice with a watery soup for dal, a big cup of porridge, a boiled carrot, some peas, and curd. Add some mashed potatoes to the mix and we could have called it prison food or English lunch. I force-fed myself while my mother had stuffed naan and chickpeas that my dad brought on his way to the hospital.

“How are you feeling?” Dad asked me.
“Like I’m in hell,” I said playing with my porridge which was as bland as it comes. “I don’t think I can take another day of this. Can I go home now?”
“What did the doctor say?” Dad asked me. I didn’t answer. I knew how he’d respond.
However, there was a question on my mind that I wanted answered. “How much did it cost?” I asked.
“Oh, leave it.” He looked away. “You are fine that’s all that matters.”
“That bad, huh,” I dropped my head in painful understanding.
My dad changed the topic. “Are you regretting it now?”
“Somewhat?” I said unable to raise my head. I felt bad and didn’t want my dad to see it. “I didn’t know he would have a knife. If I knew…”
“Then what? You would have let the thief run away?”
“No,” I said after raising my head and saw a glint of disappointment flash through my father’s eyes. I didn’t understand where the anger came from, but I asked, “Why-- do you think I should have let him go even though I knew the thief was running away with a boy's medical fees?”
“I just hope you can think about yourself and us next time. Your actions don’t just affect you, son.” He said. “They affect everyone around you equally.”

I was a bit disappointed to hear such pessimistic words from my father. At least now I knew where my paranoid nature came from. Like father like son, they say. He was right about one thing. Our actions do affect everyone around us equally whether good or bad.

“By the way, where is the doctor’s room? I need to talk to him about something.” Dad asked my mother.
“I’ll show you,” My mother got up and they left the room together.  

I didn’t pay attention to them not knowing my father’s conversation with the doctor would cause a heap of problems for me and my family in the future. We could have avoided everything If my father hadn’t talked to the doctor.

Fate works in mysterious ways. It moves forward unabated and undisturbed, acting, as it should, as written in time and space.

All I knew was that I finally had the room to myself again.

I couldn’t help wondering where I should go from here. I was talking about the system and the superpowers, of course. I hadn’t asked for my wish today.

My plan was to streamline my energy needs. For energy intake, I had photosynthesis and food. They were producing close to 5000 calories every day. Most of which was getting stored in my body as fat. I slapped my abdomen lightly and it jigged in response, agreeing with me.

My belly was ballooning, my arms were sagging and my chest was growing tender. It was not a good situation health-wise. My body and my mind were not synchronized with each other.

I wanted to rectify this issue. Not just for body aesthetics but also for the sake of my energy needs. I hadn’t been able to make a major breakthrough in studying because I simply didn’t have enough energy to feed my hungry powers. If I could slowly, turn all the fat stored in my body into usable energy then I would be solving two problems with one superpower. That was the plan.

Then this happened. And I was left wondering what to do. In the end, I decided to get regeneration power so I could heal faster. I could always disguise the wound later to make it look like it was healing at a normal rate. I didn’t want any more attention. One miracle was normal. Two miracles lead to a medical thesis. I didn’t want the word ‘specimen’ added behind my name.

Altogether, it was a foolproof plan.