Viktor looked at his hands. They were translucent at the edges, like a low-resolution image. "I'm an architect," he whispered, the memory of a car crash suddenly sparking in his mind like a short circuit.
"Where am I?" Viktor stammered, his voice sounding thin in the thin air. coma-2020-subtitles
He sat up on a patch of grass that shouldn't have been there, suspended between the jagged remains of a Venetian cathedral and a futuristic skyscraper that seemed to melt into a river of liquid clouds. There was no horizon, only a chaotic collage of architecture and nature, bending the laws of physics until up and down were merely suggestions. "First time?" a voice asked. Viktor looked at his hands
"Then you’re exactly what we need," she said, reaching out a hand. "The fighters here? We just survive. But an architect? You can learn to shape this mess. You can build us a way out—or at least a place where the Reapers can’t find us." "Where am I