Johnny is torn from a deep, dreamless sleep by a sharp jolt of pain that tears through his nervous system violently, provoking involuntary spasms in the upper half of his body—he can’t feel or move his legs. He tries to retract his arms, but thick leather restraints fastened to the sides of the bed limit his movement. He’s weak; he’s blind! Colored mandalas collapsing into themselves and pulsing in sync with his racing heart cover his vision. He feels hot, although cold sweat drenches his skin. He is afraid: it's impossible to organize his groggy thoughts between the stabs of a rhythmic screech assaulting his ears.

  — Jo?o?

  He is overcome by a powerful déjà-vu, as if he had lived his entire life like this, swinging between a coma as silent and unshakable as death and the sudden uproar of these agonizing awakenings like dying. But that’s not true. Where was he before this? An eternity separates him from his home, his car, the nightclub. He remembers the noise of his friends, the samba, buying a drink for a stunning blonde—what a mouth, what an ass, what thighs! The pain again, like lightning! Johnny wants to scream, but the deep tube in his throat won’t allow it. His chest inflates and collapses like a mechanical bellows, beyond his control.

  — Call the nurse, Marília! Your brother is waking up!

  Johnny wants to cling to the moment, he has a million questions, but the intense suffering has already consumed the little strength he gathered since the last time he surfaced from lethargy. His consciousness melts like the last ice cube in the bottom of a glass of whiskey, energy drink, and ketamine.

  ***

  The awakening is gentler this time, but no less unpleasant—any mention of movement sends a wave of searing pain across his body, seeming to originate from the pit of his stomach. Johnny opens his eyes and scans the sterile hospital room. “It’s Fantástico!” exclaims the jingle from the television suspended directly in front of his bed. Monitors to his right track his vitals, and to the left, an old, uncomfortable sofa waits for the next visiting hour. At least he’s no longer intubated, and his hands are free now, but he still can’t move his legs, which are spread and suspended by padded leg supports. There’s something like a beach ball between them, but he can’t identify it under the hot, white sheet he’s too weak to move.

  Johnny struggles to stretch his arm toward the nurse call button. Only now does he realize the muscles he’d spent countless hours building at the gym are loose and atrophied. After a short delay, a doctor in a white coat with a stethoscope around her neck and a man with a police badge hanging from a chain around his neck enter the room.

  — Jo?o, can you hear me? Are you fully conscious? — the doctor asks.

  — Yes... I think so...

  — Excellent. That’s truly remarkable; we didn’t expect to have you back this soon. How are you feeling? — she asks, approaching to inspect the machines beside the bed.

  — Everything hurts. A lot.

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  — I don't doubt it.

  — What happened to me!?

  The doctor turns to the policeman, signaling it’s his cue. Johnny notices the officer’s pale, bug-eyed face marked by deep discomfort and trembling speech.

  — Excuse me, Mr. Jo?o. What’s your last memory?

  — I... I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been asleep for a year.

  — That’s precisely what happened. We rescued you from captivity about a month ago, where we found you sedated in an improvised hospital bed. You had gone missing a year earlier after being seen leaving a club accompanied by an unidentified woman. — the officer continues.

  — I think I remember that.

  — Good. It’s important that you tell us everything you can recall. We still haven’t captured the person responsible for your abduction; she fled the site before our team arrived.

  — But... What happened!? What did they do to me?

  — Please, don’t agitate yourself. Try to stay calm. — the doctor interjects.

  — Mr. Jo?o, your situation is highly unusual and delicate. I’ll explain, but I ask that you don’t interrupt. As I said, you were abducted a year ago at Club 7 by an unidentified woman. A month ago, we found you thanks to an anonymous tip about a clandestine medical facility. It was an investigation unrelated to your disappearance, but luckily we found you. The place was a kind of... maternity ward.

  — What do you mean!?

  — Mr. Jo?o, I don’t know how else to say this. You are pregnant.

  After a brief moment of disorientation, Johnny bursts out laughing. It’s the only reaction he can muster to the detective’s absurd claim. Gradually, however, terror begins to take over his mind.

  — Jo?o, the facility where you were found was a testing ground for extremely dangerous experimental procedures. — the doctor explains.

  — How is something like that even possible!?

  — Well, every embryo starts as female. That is, as the fetus develops, the reproductive system either continues in that direction or adapts into male organs. In very crude terms, a penis is essentially an inside-out vagina, understand? Whoever conducted this experiment on you discovered a way to turn your testicles into ovaries.

  — Oh my God... Then this…! — Johnny panics, staring again at the large bulge between his legs.

  — It’s a baby.

  — You’re insane! Why is that still there!? Get it out! Get it out now!! Get it out!!!

  — It’s not that simple, Mr. Jo?o. The law changed since you were abducted. Abortion is now prohibited under any circumstance. — the officer states.

  — Unfortunately, Jo?o, we’ll have to wait for natural childbirth, whenever that may be.

  — No! No!! I refuse!! Get me out of here, I’ll go to another hospital! I’ll go abroad if I have to!!

  — Please, calm down. I can’t even authorize a room change, Jo?o. I’m sorry, your condition is too fragile. Look: this procedure is unprecedented, we have no idea what its natural course even looks like.

  — No!! No!!

  — Jo?o, we have to wait. The situation is complicated and unpredictable. This pregnancy has already reached forty-eight weeks!