The Annihilation of Foreverland

out of his clutches. He heard the man gasp as Danny fell out of the rickety crib, thought he’d land on his feet but the drop was farther than he expected. He crashed, all right; not on the floor, but on grass.
    The sun was over him. The house was gone.
    A crowd cheered. Danny was wearing a baseball uniform with a glove on his left hand. He’d never played baseball in his life, but there he was in center field with a cap pulled down just above his eyes.
    Somewhere, an aluminum bat went ting .
    The players on the infield turned around. The ball was high in the sky. The sun was in his eyes. He lifted the glove but couldn’t see it. He tried squinting, tried covering the sun with his right hand but it was blinding. And the ball was going to hit him smack in the face. But he couldn’t let the team down. He had to catch it. He had to— And then he was swimming in the ocean. The waves crashed around him. There were other kids, too. Danny had never been to the beach, but there he was, swimming in water that churned at his waist—
    And then he was coloring Easter eggs. There was a lady at the sink with an apron and some little girl across the table. He’d never seen her before—
    Opening birthday presents and people were singing. People he’d never—
    Playing Hide and Seek. He was hiding behind a bush with someone he’d—
    Baking cookies—
    School bus—
    The scenes stacked on top each other until he couldn’t tell where one began and the next ended. It was all a blur. All a blur.
    All a blur.

    The throbbing.
    That was the first thing Danny noticed before he cracked the seal of his sleep-crusted eyelashes. The head-splitting throb. His forehead felt like it had been punched with a dental tool.
    “Don’t sit up just yet, young man.” A soft hand was on his arm. “Give it a few seconds.”
    He did what the man said.
    When he opened his eyes, the light seemed bright. It took a minute of rapid blinking to adjust. He was in a doctor’s office, on a patient’s table. The paper that covered the table was bunched up under him, crinkling when he moved. There was an old man sitting on a stool next to him. His face was plenty wrinkled and his hair as white as the coat he wore.
    “I’m Mr. Jones.” The man broke out in grin worthy of a father looking at his newborn.
    “Wa…” Danny’s tongue was gummy. “Water, please.”
    “Sit up first, all right?”
    When Danny was up, Mr. Jones passed him a paper cup and watched him chug it.
    “More, please.”
    “Let that settle for a moment, okay. There’s more when you’re ready.”
    He wrapped a band around Danny’s arm and took his blood pressure. Then took his temperature and pulse. He did some scribbling on a clipboard, occasionally looking up and humming.
    The room, now that Danny had a chance to focus, was less like a doctor’s office and more like a lab. There seemed to be large equipment attached to the wall that could be pulled out and centered on hinged arms. And behind him, the room went back another twenty feet with a treadmill and monitors and more machines.
    “You go by Danny Boy?” the man asked.
    “I’m sorry?”
    “You were dreaming before you woke up and mumbled Danny Boy. I thought maybe that was what you preferred to be called. Danny Boy.”
    “My aunt… she called me that…”
    “Ah, yes. Aunts are special, aren’t they?” He grinned, again.
    Danny reached for his head that felt so full of… stuff. But Mr. Jones caught him by the wrist. “Just relax a second, Danny Boy.”
    “I was having this weird dream… like it was a bunch of dreams all crammed into one.”
    “Dreams are like that.” Mr. Jones quickly looked at his clipboard.
    “Where am I?”
    “You’ve had an accident, but you’re okay now. Would you like some more water?”
    “Yes, please.”
    He downed a second paper cup and wadded it before handing it back.
    “Um, Doctor…”
    “You can call me Mr. Jones.”
    “Mr. Jones, am I in a hospital?”
    “You’re somewhere much better than a hospital, my boy. You’re in a special rehabilitation center that is unique for your condition. You’ll have the best care that money can buy while you’re here and you’ll get to do things no other kid on this planet has ever tried. You’ll also… ah, ah, ah… don’t touch.”
    Danny reached for his forehead. There was a round band-aid the size of a Bull’s eye right in the middle where it hurt. He tried to remember an accident, anything that he would’ve been