|Source: Wikimedia Commons|
The giant tosses feverishly in her sleep; a powerful virus is snaking through her bloodstream and approaching the agèd brain which controls the massive corpus that lies before me. The neural arcs that form the centre of this wondrous creature are ancient: formed so long ago, that they may as well be carved in stone.
Fitfully, the giant casts an arm out in her sleep, and the chains that tie her to the bed rattle rustily; catching a fistful of her tight-cropped red hair, she wrenches it out; with a bellow of pain, the giant awakes and casts her eyes about fearfully. Nothing moves in the room, and blood trickles slowly down the giant’s temples. Warily, she closes her eyes again and drifts off into a troubled reverie that straddles the gulf between waking and dreams.