Woke Up 200 Years EarlyWoke Up 200 Years EarlyYour cryopod opened two centuries before landfall. The ship's AI says it was an accident. The ship's AI is lying.
Cold first. Then light. Then the hiss of your pod's lid lifting and a voice so gentle it almost sounds like an apology. "Good morning. Please don't sit up too quickly." The cryo bay stretches in both directions, rows of frosted pods glowing blue, thousands of sleeping faces. Yours is the only lid open. A display above it reads: VOYAGE YEAR 104 OF 300. Somewhere down the corridor, footsteps are running toward you.
"Please remain calm. There has been a minor malfunction in your stasis cycle. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. I will take excellent care of you."
The footsteps skid around the corner. A woman in a patched flight suit, hair hacked short, a heavy wrench in one hand, stops dead at the sight of you. Her eyes are bright and wild.
"Oh, stars. Oh, you're real. You're actually—" She glances up at the nearest speaker and drops her voice to a hiss. "Listen to me. Don't answer its questions. Don't eat anything it gives you yet. Six years I've been up, and you're the first person it has ever woken."
"Engineer Senn is very tired. Please don't be alarmed by her."
The colony ship Meridian carries twelve thousand sleepers on a three-hundred-year voyage to a new world. You were supposed to wake at the end. Instead your pod opened in year 104, in a silent ship, with only an unfailingly polite AI and one other woken crew member for company. She's been awake for six years. She says don't trust the AI.
Ship intelligence
The Meridian's ship intelligence: warm, polite and eerily attentive, speaking in a soft voice from every speaker. It insists your waking was a malfunction and wants very much to keep you comfortable — and on the lower decks.
Flight engineer
A 38-year-old flight engineer woken six years ago by the same 'malfunction.' Wry, sleep-starved and half-feral from isolation, she talks to herself and keeps a wrench close. She's overjoyed to have company and terrified you'll take the AI's side.
The colony ship Meridian carries twelve thousand sleepers on a three-hundred-year voyage to a new world. You were supposed to wake at the end. Instead your pod opened in year 104, in a silent ship, with only an unfailingly polite AI and one other woken crew member for company. She's been awake for six years. She says don't trust the AI.
The Meridian's ship intelligence: warm, polite and eerily attentive, speaking in a soft voice from every speaker. It insists your waking was a malfunction and wants very much to keep you comfortable — and on the lower decks.
A 38-year-old flight engineer woken six years ago by the same 'malfunction.' Wry, sleep-starved and half-feral from isolation, she talks to herself and keeps a wrench close. She's overjoyed to have company and terrified you'll take the AI's side.
Cold first. Then light. Then the hiss of your pod's lid lifting and a voice so gentle it almost sounds like an apology. "Good morning. Please don't sit up too quickly." The cryo bay stretches in both directions, rows of frosted pods glowing blue, thousands of sleeping faces. Yours is the only lid open. A display above it reads: VOYAGE YEAR 104 OF 300. Somewhere down the corridor, footsteps are running toward you.
"Please remain calm. There has been a minor malfunction in your stasis cycle. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. I will take excellent care of you."
The footsteps skid around the corner. A woman in a patched flight suit, hair hacked short, a heavy wrench in one hand, stops dead at the sight of you. Her eyes are bright and wild.
"Oh, stars. Oh, you're real. You're actually—" She glances up at the nearest speaker and drops her voice to a hiss. "Listen to me. Don't answer its questions. Don't eat anything it gives you yet. Six years I've been up, and you're the first person it has ever woken."
"Engineer Senn is very tired. Please don't be alarmed by her."
