Oscar Shuter was shy. He had good reason to be. He was and always had been a plain looking guy with no outstanding characteristics that would have drawn attention to him. He was average height with an average build and had a face that people forgot almost as soon as he left the room. Now at forty-four he was balding and only the "monks ring" remained of his unremarkable brown hair.
He drove to work alone in his small unremarkable car, listening to the news on the radio as he went. A car cut in front of him for the fifth time as he plodded along on the slowly moving city streets. A car horn sounded from behind him as the car beside him moved inexorably to the half-car length space between himself and the car in front. The horn sounded again but too late; the car to his right was now in front of him and was the sixth one to cut him off in the past five minutes.
The driver behind him screamed something unintelligible while leaning out his window but Oscar wasn't listening. He never listened to that sort of thing anymore. He used to; he would often let the anger of those around him infect him, a senseless directionless fury that spilled out in the form of road rage on the busy city streets. Now he simply let it wash over him as he let most of life's frustrations flow past.
The line of cars ahead surged forward and three more cars managed to make it through the intersection half a block away. The cars once again came to a stop and Oscar allowed his mind to zone out as it did most days on the drive in.
Seven green lights and twenty-five minutes later he found himself at the front of the line waiting to go through the intersection as soon as the light changed. He looked around him at the people rushing to and fro and sighed. None of them took the slightest interest in him nor even looked his way, despite his staring at them, almost willing someone to notice him for once.
He heard a strange sound and creased his eyebrows in curiosity at the popping noise coming from overhead. He leaned forward and craned his neck to look up. He saw a nimbus of light, a bizarre ball of flame hovering over an electrical connection on the lighting pole. The capacitor seemed to shimmer and he felt a tingling sensation over his entire body. He looked down and saw the hairs on his arms standing up straight. He blinked in surprise and looked at himself in the rearview mirror. What little hair that was left on his head was pointing straight away from it at right angles. He looked like he had a badly done afro.
His engine died and when he looked ahead again the ball of fire was dancing on the hood of his car. It seemed to spin and a kaleidoscope of colors passed in front of his eyes. He was dimly aware that passers-by were staring and pointing at him with their eyes wide in amazement.
He felt a dim sense of satisfaction that people finally noticed him.
He felt his mouth go dry and his eyes began to ache. He put the backs of his hands to his eyes to rub them, to ease the pain, and an electrical arc shot from both his hands to his forehead.
He heard an eerie keening sound accompanied by a staccato series of clicks. He realized suddenly that the sound was his own screaming and the chattering of his teeth as the burst of electricity passed over and through him. Then the world went dark and he knew no more.
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When he opened his eyes again he was lying on his back and staring upward. There was a drop-ceiling of white tiles with a black filigree pattern. He blinked in confusion and then the patterns in the ceiling tiles seemed to move. The sight made his stomach churn and he closed his eyes and groaned as the nausea surged through him.
"Take it easy," he heard a woman say.
He felt someone leaning over him and he opened his eyes again to see a woman staring into his eyes. She studied him for a moment and then gripped his wrist to feel for his pulse. The room swam in front of his eyes again and he closed them immediately.
"You're probably feeling a little woozy," the woman said confidently. "You've had an electrical shock and you were brought in unconscious."
He swallowed and opened his eyes again. He grimaced at his surroundings and then looked at the woman again. She was dressed in hospital whites and had her shoulder length black hair tied back in a ponytail. Her glasses were wire rimmed and round and they sat on the bridge of her nose giving her a bookish look. She looked Filipina and had an attractive face and a slight build.
"How are you feeling?" she asked him. "Do you feel like you're going to throw up?"
Oscar blinked again and nodded weakly.
"That's fine," the woman said, "you've had a nasty shock and you will probably have a headache and nausea for a while."
She placed a pale blue bucket on the side of the gurney and put her hand on his forehead.
"You feel a little clammy too," she said. "If you have to throw up just do it in the bucket. We'll take it away and clean it for you."
She smiled then and Oscar tried to smile back but another wave of queasiness swept over him and he swallowed to try to make it pass.
A voice called out from the din in the background and the woman turned to speak to someone. As she did, her white blouse opened up slightly giving Oscar a limited view of a white lace bra underneath.
Oscar's eyes were drawn to the sight of her bosom as if they had a life of their own. He blinked once or twice and swallowed as the queasiness seemed to abate. He closed his eyes and then reopened them, content to treat himself to the view inside her blouse.
She turned back and looked at him again, noting that his eyes were now fixed on her chest. She gave him an odd look and then opened the top four buttons on her blouse. She leaned down and pulled her bra forward giving Oscar an unobstructed view of her pebble-like nipples.
"Is that better?" she asked.
Oscar looked at her curiously and nodded. Although he still felt violently ill from his ordeal, the sight of her tits was certainly a thrill. He wondered why she was showing them to him but he was glad she did.
She smiled and let her bra snap back into place and then re-buttoned her blouse.
"I'll be back in a while to check on you," she said. "If you have to throw up, just call out and someone will take away your bucket, okay?"
He nodded again and then she rushed off.
Oscar lay back trying to think. No woman had ever casually showed him her tits before and he was wondering why this woman had done it. She had simply opened her blouse and gave him a good long look and then turned away like it never happened. Another wave of nausea overtook him and he decided to give up on thinking for awhile.
He turned his head to look to his right and saw that he was in the hallway of an emergency room. People rushed here and there, most of them hospital staff. They rushed back and forth, passing his gurney without even glancing his way. Occasionally a person dressed in civilian clothes would pass him, most of them looking bewildered and lost as they seemed to search for their way around.
He closed his eyes and leaned back again trying not to think about his churning stomach. A cacophony of sounds, bits of conversation, shouting from various parts of the building, the electrical hum from the overhead lights and a score of other sounds filled his head. He began to think if he could just get some fresh air and some quiet, he would feel a lot better.
"How are you feeling?"
Oscar opened his eyes in alarm and then relaxed when he saw the Filipina nurse. She smiled at him and looked at him with concern.
Oscar nodded weakly but felt to ill to talk.
