Chapter 1: He Stood Up
He arose from his prone position in bed, lowered his feet to where they were pressed against the floor, and leveraged himself to his full height using the muscles of his legs, counterbalanced by his rippling torso. His feet were pressed to the floor now by gravity. The soles of them spread slightly, capillaries engorged. As his head became vertical, the world, too, adjusted itself in his mind and eyes, so that its orientation was now up-down with sides spreading out - instead of the reverse. His clothes, too - he wore a full set of pajamas - adjusted themselves. Now they hung and swung and swayed against his body, slowly yielding from a state of static cling and inertial stasis, giving in to gravity's inexorable pull. The room he was in was now revealed to him in its proper orientation. It was a place within which he could advance or retreat, a medium through which his body could take action. It was spread out before him now, ready for him to go stooping over things and examining them - or lifting them, rearranging them to suit his will or whim. He could have done most of this from a prone position as well - crawling, stretching with his hands to grasp and move what he could reach - but it would not have seemed as dignified, somehow. It would not have been true to his feelings about himself, and the world in which he found himself. It would not have correctly expressed the power he now found in his position.