Patient Zero<\/p>\n
I wake to the insistence of my bladder, the shade of my dream slipping away like sand through a sieve. I shift upright and groan at the taste of hangover looming in my mouth. Whoever said the Japanese were a conservative culture never went to a rave in Shabuya. I pull out my cell phone to check the time. 4:52 AM.<\/p>\n
Returning to my seat from the washroom, there\u2019s a jarring motion in the cabin. Some dude watching a cowboy show on the inflight TV looks around nervously. No one else seems to care. I get to my seat but before I can sit, the plane heaves and I\u2019m thrown violently to the floor. There are screams of panic and I struggle to get back in my seat as the plane angles downwards in a treacherous spiral. There\u2019s a groan as the fuselage strains, followed by a series of loud cracking sounds from outside. I manage to clamber into my seat and, as I\u2019m buckling in, I glance out my window to see thick smoke. Beyond, I can make out the skeleton of a wing, a large panel of metal pulling free from it, flying straight at my window. I jerk away as it batters the hull with a harsh twang. The pilot\u2019s voice sounds over the intercom but I can\u2019t make out details over the pandemonium. Another bout of turbulence and the overhead compartments fly open, baggage spewing onto the passengers. \u00a0There\u2019s screaming and I turn to see heavy luggage coming at me before its strikes me in the head. Then my world goes black.<\/p>\n
I wake to find I\u2019m in a hospital room. I notice this particular hospital seems not quite so\u2026sterile. There are no corners, just walls meeting floor and ceiling in sloped processions. My bed also has no sharp angles or crevices.<\/p>\n
\u2018Probably makes the cleaners\u2019 jobs a lot easier\u2019, I think.<\/p>\n
I look at my forearm to find no IV; instead, steri-strips hold on what looks like some kind of sensor. I can hear my heart rate but I don\u2019t see any monitoring system. In fact, the only other thing in the room is a stand with my belongings atop it. I startle as a voice greets me, though I see no speaker. It welcomes me to San Francisco General Hospital and tells me that my vitals appear stable. It explains that I\u2019ve been in a significant accident and have suffered internal hemorrhaging, which required an emergency splenectomy. It tells me not to worry, as analogous models were readily available, and that a transplant was successfully performed. I lift my gown apprehensively to find that my abdomen bears no scarring. I frown, wondering if I\u2019m in a dream.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Room<\/em> tells me that my name is Corporal Andrew Leavey and that my body will take some time to adjust as my immune system accepts the new component<\/em>. It recommends extended rest during the approximated healing time of 48 hours, something about nanite incubation period.<\/em> Blinds lower to block out the glare from the sun which I had, actually, found a little cloying. The colour in the room changes to a soft shade of red, the pot lights dimming automatically. At least it seems <\/em>automatic. Seeing Room react to my preferences, I wonder if all hospitals in San Fran are this sophisticated. I recall hearing that people like Bill Gates have \u2018smart homes\u2019, though public hospitals aren\u2019t on that kind of pay grade. Thinking of paygrades makes me realize I haven\u2019t seen any attending staff. Growing nervous that I\u2019ve been left alone with the speaking room, I search around for a buzzer to hail my resident nurse. Finding none, I call out for help. Immediately Room chimes in, asking if I\u2019m in distress.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you think? I\u2019ve just been in a plane crash.\u201d I respond.<\/p>\n Room reports that my vitals are slightly elevated, indicating that I\u2019m anxious.<\/p>\n \u201cNo shit.\u201d I snap.<\/p>\n Room explains that profanity isn\u2019t permitted in the hospital and that if I continue to breach policy I\u2019ll be isolated, as to not disturb other patients.<\/p>\n \u201cThis<\/em> isn\u2019t isolation? Where\u2019s the nurse? I want to call my family.\u201d<\/p>\n That\u2019s being arranged<\/em>, Room replies, and offers to provide entertainment while I wait for my attending physician who will be an estimated 24.35 minutes.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, they got it down to point three five minutes, have they? Impressive!\u201d I quip.<\/p>\n Room explains the quoted time reflects a ten-patient intake, not one.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t know how to respond. Clearly this isn\u2019t the American medical system I\u2019m used to.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cUm\u2026how about that TV now?\u201d<\/p>\n Suddenly a holographic screen appears an arm\u2019s length in front of me, though I don\u2019t see any surface that it could be projected on to. Fascinated, I lean forward to touch it and, as my hand contacts the light, the image changes. Room reminds me that I don\u2019t need to manually change channels and can use my optical synapser, <\/em>whatever that is. Must be one of those new apps that screenagers use. After watching an NFL game for a while, a slew of commercials begin. Room notes that my initial scans suggest I\u2019m perturbed and encourages watching something else.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you recommend?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n Are you asking which channels are most frequently watched, or which channels you would prefer?<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m asking what you <\/em>would watch. Besides, how could you know what I prefer? We\u2019ve just met.\u201d<\/p>\n I am merely the manifestation of my programming, and therefore I am not truly an I<\/strong> at all. If you consider the human brain to be no different, then neither are you. Therefore, it is not circumspect of me to say that I would do<\/strong> something, as I am merely programmed to perform a task. However, having access to your preliminary brain scans, the information suggests that you enjoy a variety of visual stimulations, namely: Action, Suspense, and Science Fiction. Based on this assessment, I can offer a number of stations that meet this criteria.<\/em><\/p>\n Before I can get in a word, the screen begins flashing between channels, all things that, as Room had pontificated, I like.<\/p>\n \u201cWait, go back!\u201d I shout.<\/p>\n Room flips back several channels until I tell it to stop. There\u2019s an image of a plane spiraling out of the air, heading towards a large metropolis. The camera pans in and the letters ANA 008<\/em> on the side of the plane come into focus.<\/p>\n \u201cThat was my flight!\u201d I exclaim.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I watch in horror as the plane careens into the harbour, smoke trailing from one turbine on a skeletal wing divested of all its metal sheeting. It noses uncontrollably into the water, skims across the channel and shears in half. I watch in stunned silence as the wreckage bobs austerely on the surface of San Francisco bay.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2026I was on that plane.\u201d I say, after a long moment.<\/p>\n That is correct.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cBut\u2026how did anyone survive <\/em>that?\u201d I stammer.<\/p>\n Those who were salvageable were triaged immediately by ambulatory drones. Several onsite transplants were required to save a few. Some did not survive.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cSome?<\/em>\u201d I say, incredulous.<\/p>\n Your flight was unaccounted for by air traffic control, causing an unexpected collision with another outbound flight in the same airspace. The other managed to land safely but ANA 008 was not so fortunate. Luckily, San Francisco boasts some of America\u2019s finest emergency response infrastructure. We can replace most components, if need be.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cReplace? I\u2026wait, what\u2019s that all over that building there?\u201d<\/p>\n Room freezes frame.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is that? Is that\u2026moss? Why\u2019s that building covered in trees?\u201d<\/p>\n Room zooms in on the building to which I refer. Sure enough, the structure is panelled in thick swathes of moss with jutting terraces full of trees and other plants. The stats label it the Transbay Tower<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cWow, they finished that fast! But what\u2019s with the jungle makeover? And what are all of those little dots zipping around in the air?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n The Transbay Tower is a marvel of both architectural and ecological engineering. In the spirit of the first forest cities of Asia, the tower contributes both to economic growth and carbon sequestration. It was retroactively modified to conform to the city\u2019s energy standards. The dots<\/strong> you see are trans-aeronautical vehicles.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWait\u2026are you trying to tell me those are\u2026flying cars<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n Incorrect. I am not trying<\/strong> to tell you anything. I have<\/strong> told you, unless you are referring to cognitive\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cEnough with the analysis, already!\u201d I interject. \u201cJust tell me what\u2019s going\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n I trail off as an object floats into the room, hovering towards me. Room informs me that the doctor has arrived.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat on earth is this?\u201d I recoil from the thing which looks more like a silicone tampon than a health professional.<\/p>\n Good day citizen. I am mobile aid unit QK89-3, also known as Doctor Quick by my colleagues. You\u2019ve had quite the fall, literally. How are you feeling?<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2026uh\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n A panel opens on its chest and a laser pans across my face. I wince at the invasive light.<\/p>\n Supplementary diagnostic scans show onset of encephalic exacerbation in the ventromedial prefrontal cortex and amygdala brain regions, suggestive of trauma. Patient presents no internal perturbations congruent with physical injury, indicating that routine nanite restructuring is successful.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2026who<\/em> are you?\u201d I ask nervously.<\/p>\n My designation is mobile aid unit QK<\/em>\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cI heard you the first time! Robot doctors don\u2019t exist. Is this some kind of joke?\u201d<\/p>\n Your prognosis is no joke; you\u2019ve suffered multiple injuries, one of which rendered you immobile from the waist down.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n I sit in stunned silence as I process what is said. \u201cAre you telling me that I\u2019m\u2026paraplegic<\/em>?\u201d I gasp.<\/p>\n Apprehensively, I move my legs, expecting the worse. But my legs move; I can see my toes wiggling beneath the sheets.<\/p>\n You were, but you are no longer.<\/em> Dr Quick says.<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Nanite restructuring is a relatively new procedure, likely one you\u2019re unfamiliar with, given your…temporal situation. However, despite your proficient recovery, some of your components weren\u2019t salvageable<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean components?<\/em>\u201d I ask suspiciously.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not important at this point. For now, I\u2019ll need to take a blood sample. Please hold still while I administer my pneumatic sampler.<\/em><\/p>\n Dr Quick raises an appendage and a blinking device protrudes out of a retractable hatch on its forearm. Not like any thermometer I\u2019ve ever seen.<\/p>\n \u201cLike hell!\u201d I say and push away.<\/p>\n I swing my legs out from under the sheets and my breath catches as I stare down at legs which are not mine<\/em>. These aren\u2019t prosthetics\u2014they\u2019re an entirely new set of mechanical legs! <\/em>I scream and fall off the bed, landing hard on the floor, my new legs clacking against the stone. I scramble to my feet and snatch up my belongings, finding dressing quite awkward, considering my lack of experience clothing cybernetic limbs. Once I\u2019m clad, I barrel past Dr Quick, despite a flurry of worried chattering. Ironically, Dr. Quick is quite slow and I lose it easily.<\/p>\n I make way my aimlessly through whitewashed corridors, gaping at every turn. There are holographic signs everywhere and large Roomba-looking devices ambling along the floors, walls and ceilings. There\u2019s an<\/p>\n <\/p>\n AMBULATORY sign ahead, above a clerk working behind a desk. Finally, a human! As I make way to the station, a voice emanates through a PA, announcing a \u2018code yellow\u2019. The woman looks at me, her expression turning to surprise. She puts a finger to her ear and seconds later several large robots emerge from around a corner. They proceed towards me, metal legs clanging against the floor as they march in perfect unison.<\/p>\n And they\u2019re carrying guns.<\/p>\n I bolt down an adjacent hall, amazed at my newfound speed, wondering if they\u2019ve given me the latest model legs. I come upon an elevator, mashing the down arrow but it\u2019s unresponsive. Beside, there\u2019s a panel with various biometric scanners and I realize I\u2019ll not be leaving San Francisco General in standard fashion. I take off again, running until I see a MEDICAL IMAGING hologram. Entering the ward, I see a door ahead, a sign above clearly indicating a scan is in progress. I charge into the room and find no large MRI machine or other imaging equipment, only a single doctor\u2014human this time\u2014bent over a patient as she waves a cellphone-sized device over him. She looks at me, casting a glare that could melt stone.<\/p>\n \u201cYou can\u2019t be in here!\u201d She shouts.<\/p>\n I run past her and she yelps, jumping aside. I run to a window and peer at the street below, about four stories down. Security rushes into the room and two guards pace towards me, guns raised.<\/p>\n I swallow and lock eyes with the doctor. \u201cWhat goes up, right?\u201d I say.<\/p>\n Her eyes widen and I hurl myself out the window with all of my force. Well, that\u2019s how it went in my head anyway; in reality, I bounce off the window and stumble backwards, falling to the floor. I grab my shoulder, groaning as I writhe about pathetically.<\/p>\n Your efforts to escape are futile. Stand down and await processing.<\/em> A guard says.<\/p>\n I get up and make another mad dash at the window. There\u2019s a bright flash and a series of spasms creeps up my side. My body locks up and I veer off course, slamming into the wall.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n They have lasers? Lasers<\/em>!<\/p>\n I get an idea. I turn around, pressing my back against the wall and slowly inch towards the window.<\/p>\n This is your last warning before restraint protocols are implemented. Stand down, corporal.<\/em><\/p>\n I make a sudden movement and they fire again. I dodge the bolt and it strikes the glass, penetrating through. Cracks ripple across its surface and I throw myself at it again, this time passing through without resistance. A salvo of lasers flashes above me as I slam into the concrete, robotic legs hissing as some kind of hydraulic system absorbs pressure from the fall. I hunker over as glass rains down on me, somehow avoiding getting cut. Shouts of surprise come from all around and I make for a nearby alley, hundreds of eyes following in my wake.<\/p>\n Emerging into a narrow breezeway, I slow my pace and dissolve into a crowd. I do a slow panorama, staring stupefied at unexplainable sights. In my reverie, I accidentally bump into a man, his shawarma slopping down his front. He frowns at his once white shirt.<\/p>\n \u201cOh shit, I\u2019m sorry! I\u2026I wasn\u2019t paying attention. I\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n He hustles over to a weird looking bench full of holes and takes off his laptop case\u2014finally something recognizable\u2014placing it next to a woman having a one-sided conversation with herself, although I don\u2019t see any Bluetooth headset or cell phone. I approach awkwardly as he unzips the case.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m really sorry about that. I\u2019ll buy you \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s no big deal.\u201d He interjects.<\/p>\n He opens the case, revealing a set of devices I\u2019ve never seen. So much for recognizable. He retrieves one that resembles an electric toothbrush and passes it over the stains. They virtually disappear.<\/p>\n He grins at me. \u201cSee, no big deal.\u201d<\/p>\n I look at his shirt and motion with my head. \u201cLooks like it didn\u2019t get it all.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He acknowledges the spot and pinches his shirt collar. The shirt suddenly changes to an off-yellow color, blending with the stain.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it\u2019s a little two-thousand-twenty-eight, but at least it hides the spot, huh?\u201d he jests. \u201cYet, you\u2019d think with all the demagnetizing, Nano-weaving, spider-silking tech and whatnot that they\u2019d figure out how to make it look less like vomit.\u201d<\/p>\n I try to form a response but I falter. He raises an eyebrow.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, gotta fly. Clock\u2019s always ticking!\u201d He taps his eye, as if I should know what that means, then disappears into the crowd.<\/p>\n Watching him go, I notice an odd-looking vending machine across the way, the image on it reminding me of my suppressed thirst. Curious, I walk over to discover that beverage selection is accessible by touch-display. I don\u2019t recognize any of the strange symbols designating payment options. A banner flashes by at the top of the screen: NO CRYPTO? TRY WAT-AIR, IT\u2019S FREE! I shrug, push the \u2018Wat-air\u2019 button and a tray dispenses a bottle. I retrieve it and examine the label which claims the contents are 100% atmospherically extracted.<\/em> I down it indiscriminately. I see a row of disposal bins, all varying colors, their decals doing little to differentiate them. I place the bottle in the blue one and almost immediately a loud buzzer sounds, followed by a voice telling me to please retrieve misplaced item and properly dispose of it<\/em>. I attempt to comply but the hatch won\u2019t open. Desperately, I struggle to open the lid as the voice continues to banter me. After an embarrassing minute of this, there\u2019s a beep from behind and I turn to find a drone hovering not a foot away.<\/p>\n Citizen, you are currently in violation of the Standard Health Act, 4419. You are required to stand down, by law.<\/em><\/p>\n My eyes track to the motion of people jumping aside, letting a cadre of uniformed men through, armed with blast shields made of some strange black metal.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cA riot squad<\/em>? These guys take recycling a little too seriously!\u201d I curse, and take off.<\/p>\n The square segues into a public park, though the playground equipment seems more complicated than what I remember from my youth. I find myself running to musical tones, as if my steps are in sync to a dance video. I look down but the concrete appears to be normal. A voice sounds ubiquitously throughout the courtyard, announcing that I burned 43 calories and generated precisely 4 kilowatts of power. There\u2019s a round of canned applause then the speakers cut out. Feeling exposed, I make for a nearby alleyway but I am halted halfway as the police contingent steps out, blocking the exit. We both stand there in robust silence, classic showdown style. I wiggle my fingers reflexively but no gun rests in a holster at my side. One of the officers signals to the crowd to clear out and they scatter like cockroaches, one man making for a bicycle leaning against the alley wall. My jaw drops as I watch the man peddling\u2026up the side of the building.<\/em> The contingent approaches and, reacting on impulse, I run over to another bike, mount it and being to pedal furiously. My heart skips as I watch the concrete disappear as I ascend to the heavens. Or the rooftop; whichever comes first. I hear shouting below but, overcome with vertigo, I don\u2019t dare look down. Soon there\u2019s a chime and a voice tells me I\u2019ve arrived at \u2018Rooftop Concourse\u2019.<\/p>\n The concourse is spectacular; large plate-glass windows line the perimeter with flashing images\u2014advertisements\u2014embedded on their surfaces. There\u2019s a huge pyramid in the center, covered in solar panels. My eyes follow it to the skyline and a large object streaks past my vision. Flying cars, everywhere<\/em>, and the drivers aren\u2019t paying attention. Driverless flying cars<\/em>. I watch in amazement as they disappear into large slats in the side of the building. Parkades? That\u2019s when I realize I\u2019m not in Kansas anymore\u2014that Kansas probably isn\u2019t in Kansas anymore<\/em>. There\u2019s a sound behind me and I turn to find the drone lurking.<\/p>\n Your resistance to cooperate has been acknowledged by the local authorities. Phase two tactical pursuit is imminent. Stand down or your safety will not be guaranteed.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n As convincing as the floating metal pancake is, I decide to run again. I enter a large box store, passing a robotic greeter. Rows and rows of vertical glass pillars line the shopping floor and they\u2019re inset with trays containing\u2026growing vegetables? No, not only vegetables but also fruits, nuts, and even\u2026meat? Ugh. I jump back as a metallic arm slides down the column in front of me. A digital display with a creepy rendition of a woman\u2019s face greets me.<\/p>\n Hello valued customer!<\/em> She says. How may I be of service?<\/em><\/p>\n I just gape at the screen.<\/p>\n If it\u2019s easier for you, I can scan your database for recent shopping carts. Would you like me to proceed?<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy\u2026database?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n Confirmed, scanning database. Hold please.<\/em><\/p>\n A light blinks on the display and the woman\u2019s expression turns to consternation.<\/p>\n It appears there has been an issue reading your receptors. Would you like to try again?<\/em><\/p>\n I hear commotion behind me and see the police contingent storming into the foyer. The robo-greeter attempts to approach one officer but she kicks it over, annoyed. It lies on the floor, repeating: alignment error\u2026alignment error\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n I ditch the city of glass, heading towards a HOUSEWARES hologram. Seeing that word, I realize I have forgotten to call my<\/em> home! I pull out my phone and dial my sister\u2019s number but there is only a weird hissing sound, like static from another world. The screen says NO SERVICE. How the hell do they have flying cars but not Wi-Fi? I enter housewares but there are no housewares, just aisles of shelves filled with holographic screens with pictures of items.<\/p>\n No actual items.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I see a sign above a large bay door: EMPLOYEES ONLY. I head towards it, keeping an eye out for a phone, hoping my sister will know a way out of this mess. I enter a monstrous warehouse, a concrete jungle full of floor-to-ceiling shelves of steel girders and, just like the hospital before, I struggle to find any sign of humanity. Hundreds of autonomous machines load freight on and off trucks and shelves, working fastidiously. I barely move ten steps before a figure steps in my way.<\/p>\n Hold, customer. This is an employees-only area. Do you have employee access?<\/em><\/p>\n Another robot, great.<\/p>\n Before I can reply a scanning laser flits across my face. The bot pauses then makes a sound\u2014a grunt of disappointment, perhaps?<\/p>\n No retinal records present. Company databases indicate no misplaced items. Activating inventory assessment protocol.<\/em><\/p>\n It grabs me and lifts me off the ground.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, what do you think\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Approximate match found. Begin reprocessing sequence.<\/em><\/p>\n It places me back down but before I can complain I hear a whirring in the distance, as if a helicopter were approaching. A large object floats around a corner and heads my way\u2014a massive drone. I try to escape but the drone is instantly upon me. A turbine revs noisily above and I float effortlessly upward, a vacuum device pinning me to the drone\u2019s undercarriage. It maneuvers me up onto a conveyer belt and plops me between two refrigerators. I get to my feet and I\u2019m immediately surrounded by mechanical arms, swivelling around me as they pump a black substance from nozzles at their ends. As the stuff builds layer on layer, I realize what it is: high density foam.<\/p>\n They\u2019re packaging me!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I attempt to escape but an arm strikes me back into place. I watch in dismay as the last of the light disappears, swallowed by the growing wall of foam. Then there\u2019s darkness.<\/p>\n As my heart races, all I can think is that Han Solo would be pretty disappointed in me. I pull out my phone and the light from the screen offers me some respite. There\u2019s still no reception, which isn\u2019t surprising given I\u2019m surrounded by thick foam in a concrete building. Looking at my phone, I notice my calendar app seems off so I open it. What I see next almost causes my heart to stop: June 28th<\/sup>\u20262037. Two thousand and thirty-seven? <\/em>Suddenly, everything becomes clear. Well, as clear as it can be given the fact that I\u2019m 20 years unexplainably in the future.<\/em> Regardless, my emotions get the best of me and I break down\u2014for a short time anyway. For you see, my training taught me to survive, and if that means surviving time travel, so be it. And if there\u2019s one thing I can guarantee you\u2014whoever buys this fridge is in for one hell of a surprise\u2026<\/p>\n …when they find out they got the old model. <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Patient Zero I wake to the insistence of my bladder, the shade of my dream slipping away like sand through a sieve. I shift upright and groan at the taste of hangover looming in my mouth. Whoever said the Japanese were a conservative culture never went to a rave in Shabuya. I pull out my […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-114","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-thoughts"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbAkEb-1Q","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/114","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=114"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/114\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":124,"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/114\/revisions\/124"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=114"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=114"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetruerealm.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=114"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}