The Musician lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of his life that had vanished. Around him, the other patients stirred, each lost in their own confusion. Ford, the pilot, sat up with a groan, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage his memories back into place. Tony, the chef, fiddled awkwardly with his breakfast utensils, frustration etched on his face. Joey, the mechanical engineer, examined his hands as though they belonged to someone else. Hardy, the hardware engineer, was already deep in thought, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls.
"It's gone," The Musician finally spoke, breaking the silence. "All of it. Everything I worked for, just... gone."
Ford nodded slowly, his eyes clouded with disbelief. "I can't even remember how to fly a plane," he admitted, his voice filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability.
Joey leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration. "It's like the skills were never there. But we remember everything else," he mused.
Hardy tapped his fingers rhythmically against the bedframe, a habit he couldn't place. "The meteor shower," he said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. "We all saw it that night."
Tony looked skeptical, yet intrigued. "You're saying a meteor shower stole our skills?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
The Musician shrugged, feeling the weight of their shared desperation. "It's the only thing that makes sense. We need someone who understands the cosmos, not just medicine," he insisted.
Ford clenched his fists, determination flickering in his eyes. "Then we find someone who does," he declared, igniting a spark of hope in the room.
Joey mapped out a plan using a sheet of paper and a pen he borrowed from a nurse. "We need to get past the staff unnoticed," he said, pointing to the exits. "The key is timing and understanding the shift changes."
Hardy nodded, his logical mind already calculating the variables. "I can handle any security systems we encounter," he promised.
Tony sighed, a smile tugging at his lips. "I might not remember how to cook, but I can still be a distraction," he joked, lightening the mood.
The group moved silently, hearts pounding with every step. The Musician led the way, the adrenaline coursing through him almost making him feel whole again. Ford and Hardy flanked him, their senses heightened as they navigated past the nurses' station. Tony lingered behind, ready to divert any unwanted attention with a well-timed diversion.
Joey paused at the security panel, his fingers dancing over the keys with practiced ease. "Got it," he whispered triumphantly as the door clicked open.
The Musician took a deep breath, feeling the crisp breeze against his skin. "Now what?" Ford asked, looking at the open road ahead.
"Now we find someone who can help us," The Musician replied, his voice filled with hope. "Someone who believes us," Tony added with a nod.
Together, they set off into the night, united by a shared goal and a belief that their talents weren't lost forever, just waiting to be reclaimed under the vast, mysterious sky.
