The Secret Adventures of Luke's Hand - Part 3

I never knew what it was like to be afraid.

It was sort of like being cold, a frigid, bitter frost that envelopes your whole body and chills your blood. But it was far worse than a mere physical cold. It held you utterly immobile, a ruthless tendril that bound you fast against its beating heart, inescapable except through an act of sheer, coarse will.

Before I lost Luke Skywalker, I had existed only as a limb, as an accessory to his actions. That meant that I could experience physical sensation, but not necessarily true emotion. The only real emotion that was channeled through my fingertips was the remnants of what the remainder of Luke’s body had already experienced. It had something to do with the relationship between the cardiovascular system and the amount of midi-chlorians in Luke’s bloodstream. All anatomical stuff that I know instinctively because of the rather…special…position that I used to hold.

But the terror that had apprehended my spirit didn’t stop my agile mind from wandering. How could I actually be experiencing emotion, a decidedly human thing? Of course, other species are known to exhibit passion as well, but none tend to act upon it in quite the irrational manner that do human beings. Was I now in possession of human intelligence?

A strange little stew of bantha poodoo that I had cooked up. I kind of liked it.

Not that it helped anything.

Up ahead and to my immediate right was a recess that I recognized immediately as some kind of tunnel. If I could crawl up there and lean over toward the edge of the tunnel, maybe I could see what lay below and find some way out of this living incarnation of the hells of Corellia.

Having something resembling a plan made me feel better and more secure about my future. At least I’d have something to occupy myself so I didn’t go insane from fear.

Can I hand go insane?

Ask me sometime later.

So, with that, I edged slowly forward against the dank smoothness of the tunnel, easing along with the power of my middle and forefinger, going somewhere very slowly, and nowhere very fast.