PIXALi: The Story That Came From a Dream

Chapter 1

Hello? Hello? Miss, can you hear me?" A voice. One strangely familiar. I try to crane my neck to see who it is. EXCRUCIATING pain dances up and down my right side.
"No, please don't do that! Don't move! Here, I'll come to you." The squeal of wheels on linoleum. Suddenly, a man in a wheelchair comes into view. One, I realize, I know very well.
I try to yell his name, but it comes out in a whisper. "C-Cyrus... Cyrus Bo-..."
I break off into a fit of coughing. Tears stream down my cheeks as I fight to hear what he says.
"Yes dear, Cyrus Borg. And please don't try to shout. You have been, I'm afraid, terribly, possibly mortally wounded. It baffled the doctors of your world that you have managed to stay alive this long."
"M-my world?"
"Yes, er... how to explain this... we're not... uh, we're not quite on Earth anymore..."
My face breaks into a huge smile, or what feels like a huge smile, startling him. Who knows what a smile would look like now? I rasp, "We're in... N-ninjago?
"Yes! How did you ever guess? Well, you knew who I was..."He broke off, chewing his lip in contemplation.
I try to roll my eyes. "I-I'll ex-explain..." More coughing. I keep trying to speak. Finally, I give up.
"Later, I assume. Ah, well. I believe I can wait. For now, I probably should explain what has happened to you. You remember the crash, I presume?"
I give him a feeble thumbs-up.
"Well, as you may suspect, your right side was severely damaged. Had it been your left side, you probably would be dead, considering the positioning of the human heart. Even now, as I said before, you probably should be. But miraculously, you have survived."
At this, I give him a worried look, hoping he will understand my next question.
"Oh, you must want to know about your father and brother. They are fine. They escaped virtually unharmed. But now, we must figure out what will become of you."
He pulls out an X-ray of my body. "You see, pretty much everything from slightly past your nose is severely damaged. I'm afraid that no doctor anywhere could repair it. But," he says with a slightly sheepish yet prideful grin, "I am not quite a usual doctor. I have devised a plan that, if executed properly by usual doctors," he smiles again, "should get you back up and running in no time."
At this, I do the hardest jazz hands I can, accompanied by my apparently-half-smile.
"But," he continues, "You will have to be, for lack of a better phrase, a cyborg for the rest of your life." Now he looks a bit uncomfortable. "I assume, if you know me, you know of my assistant?"
I stare blankly, hoping it's not what I think it is.
"PIXAL?" Oh darn, he went and said it. I recoil visibly. "What? What is the matter?" the poor man fusses.
"It- umm... PIXAL is- she... kind of is my... ne-nemesis..." I choke. "I sort of hate her... f-for taking... Z-z..." I can't go on. I cough so hard that white stars cloud my vision, going round, and round, and...
I black out.