The door to the room that Aly initially woke up in hangs ajar.

The lights are on, and there's a woman resting on the bed inside.

Anyone awake around?

She doesn't see anyone else nearby.

As she's looking, though, glowing lines flash across her field of view: they resemble the hovering letters but they definitely aren't letters in any alphabet she's been learning.

Despite not being letters and not forming words, though, they somehow manage to rapidly convey meaning.

The particular set of scribbles that just like up her field of view mean, approximately: Excitement due to [unexpected proximity of] another [person resembling me]!

Dismay due to unexpected appearance of yet another variety of hallucinatory information!

Hallucinatory scribbles continue:

Are you the [person from far away] that [proper noun designating my sister] told me about?

"Yes?"

Concern that [person I am currently speaking to] sounds distressed.

The hallucinatory scribbles convey whole ideas where regular letters would just convey disjointed sounds--getting across the equivalent of multiple 'sentences' in as many eyeblinks.

Did [person I am currently speaking to] even know that she had [manner in which I am currently speaking to you] enabled? Pause. Did [proper noun designating my sister] even realize that [manner in which I am currently speaking to you] is enabled by default?

"I don't know," says Aly. "What's a - who are you talking about?"

Realization that [person I am currently speaking to] would not have a dictionary installed for [manner in which I am currently speaking to you].

There's a slightly longer pause after that last scribble. Then, one by one, letters in the traditional native alphabet start appearing where the scribbles had been.

The words read: "Hello. My name is Veda Kaur. My twin sister is Uma Kaur. She is a doctor here."

Well, now she can look up "sister".

Sister (noun): a human born to the united colonies (as said by another such human). Usually describes a human born of the same biofabricator and at a similar time to the speaker, especially if she and the speaker were born to the same coven.

And "born"?

Born (adjective): existing as a result of birth. Typically used in the context of describing where a person's birth occurred, for instance "Draco born" would indicate a person born in the Draco Territories.

(the implanted linguistic protocol provides a very strong negative gut reaction to the phrase 'Draco Territories'--grasping intuitively that the region in question is Where The Enemy Dwells)

Birth (noun): the emergence of a baby or other living thing from a biofabrication facility (this is typical in the United Colonies) or from a womb (this is typical elsewhere). Birth, in short, is the start of life as a physically separate being.

Further letters at the bottom of Aly's fiend of view nudge the definition screens out of the way: "That's me in the bed, by the way. I'm awake."

The woman in the bed raises a shaky forearm and waves in the general direction of the doorway.

"Hello," says Aly, a little distracted by the implications of these definitions.

Veda begins the laborious process of rising to a sitting position despite her body weighing nearly an order of magnitude more than it usually does.

"I'm sorry, I'm not very good at the language yet."

Veda switches back to the high speed Meaning Scribbles.

Mirth because your [ability to speak in ways that are not the way I am speaking to you right now] is already much better than my [ability to speak in ways that are not the way I am speaking to you right now].

"I can't - dictionary - this," Aly points out.

Scribbles: Annoyance that you are [asking me to speak in the standard local language] even though [virtually one-hundred percent of] all other [personnel in stationed in this facility] can do that easily and I can only easily speak in [the way that I am speaking to you right now].

Resignation that [proper noun designating my sister] would probably want me to [communicate with you in a way that facilitates your linguistic development].

"I -" She looks through her glossary. "I don't need you to change, but if I am confused I like to look things up."

The woman gropes around on a tray beside the bed, eventually laying fingers on a set of polarized glasses.

Scribbles: Appreciation that [you aren't expecting me to do something onerous and mostly pointless]. Curious if you will ask [proper noun designating my sister] to teach you [how to communicate in the way that I am currently communicating with you]. Pride in [being able to communicate more efficiently than supposedly 'undamaged' people].

"I don't know what this is," she says.

Veda looks right at Aly, her eyes open and her irises glinting.

She has too many irises.

Scribbles: [The thing you are currently looking at] is how I speak.

The three pairs of irises move independently of each other. And as they move back and forth, scribbles appear. Whenever they stop moving relative to each other, the scribbles pause.

Wow!!!!