Paul was lost in the kind of deep sleep that you mostly see in tired dogs. His dreams flowed effortlessly from one disjointed montage of times and places long gone to the next. As these things often do, there was a mixing of fantastical elements in with mundane. It all seemed somehow strange and yet also expected. But mostly, Paul saw scenes of his life while he slept. This wasn’t an accident; it was thought regularly experiencing memories firmly grounded in real past lived experiences would make the trauma of waking up a little easier. It didn’t. A mechanical dial keeping track of decade long slices of time rolled over, starting it’s count again. With the complete rotation around the metal clock face, dormant systems began starting up. The sound of fans can be heard as they prepare to cool processors long asleep. The patented blend of drugs dripping into Paul’s bloodstream had been tapering for the last month. The benzodiazepines and barbiturates were now at a level Paul could wake up from at any time. A screen about a foot and a half in front of Paul’s face turned on, illuminating the small space in a bright blue artificial light. “TOUCH SCREEN WHEN AWAKE” scrolled slowly across the display.
Paul was now in a fitful, anxious sleep. While earlier in the month his dreams were mostly of his family, now they were mostly of the days before he ended up in this place. Readings of Paul’s vitals indicated he much preferred the dreams where his wife and daughter were there with him. He really liked the dreams that involved going on picnics up into the forest, away from all the thick smog of the city that would make Anna’s asthma act up. Paul loved spending time with his daughter. Paul’s dreams in the last week are mostly of arguing, always with Anna’s mom, Nikki. They argued about the letter Paul got via special delivery on one especially rainy afternoon. Sometimes they’re about the clinic Paul had to go to. One of Paul’s eyes cracked open a sliver, the light from the screen was intensely blinding. Paul closed his eyes again. He felt repetitive waves of euphoria wash over his body, creeping and weaving euphoric paths from his toes to the top of his head where the stabbing pain from the bright lights was only just subsiding. As time passed Paul felt light headed, everything was spinning and he couldn’t stop himself from dry heaving several times into the dark void illuminated by the words “TOUCH SCREEN WHEN AWAKE.” Paul closed one eye and looked at the screen. He hoped the single eyed perspective would alleviate the spinning. It worked enough that Paul was able to assess his surroundings a little more. Best he could tell his body was constrained inside of a cylindrical tube up to his chest that was positioned in what felt like a large metal coffin. Paul’s left arm was possibly constrained inside the cylinder but it was impossible to tell as he realized everything except his head and right arm was totally paralyzed and numb.
Paul was disoriented, confused, annoyed, and more than a little bit afraid. He was also very much awake. Paul reached out with his right hand to touch the screen. Paul tried to move his arm but it would hardly respond to the impulses his brain was sending. For what must have been twenty minutes, Paul wiggled his right shoulder in different ways, figuring out which way caused his arm to swing back and forth the most. He was trying to get his hand within range of the taunting words. “I’ve been awake for god knows how long and I still can’t touch the fucking screen” Paul muttered or possibly thought to himself. It was during this time of arm swinging and shoulder wiggling Paul noticed something peculiar. When Paul would swing his arm up, it would stay at the apex without falling back down to his side. Without him holding it, it would just...stay there. Paul used this to inch his finger closer and closer to the display until finally he was able to brush his right knuckle against it.
“Hello PAUL EPIALES, it is time for your once a decade check-up!” a cheerful male voice said as the screen on the display in front of Paul went blank then blinked back to life with a generic gray gradient background. A suit clad cartoon caricature of a business man walked out onto the screen with his eyes closed and hands firmly planted in his pocket as if he’s casually strolling through a place he knows so well he doesn’t even fear being splattered by a cartoon car. “We understand that waking up from hibernation can be...disorienting.” The cartoon pulled his hand out of his pocket as if he was showing off something in his hand. “That’s why the engineers at NyxTek have put together this informative presentation to help orient you.” The cartoon opened his eyes. It locked its beady black animated eyes with Paul and smiled widely. “We at NyxTek find that when coming out of hibernation you may be confused, angry or a litany of other emotions you wouldn’t otherwise be feeling. NyxTek psychologists theorize it could be helpful if your journey is as self-guided as possible. Please choose from one of the following options to get started!”
The suit wearing cartoon moved to the far right of the screen as various touch screen menu items appeared one at a time on the display. The first read “Who am I?” – without waiting for the next item to fully load, Paul touched the first option. “You are PAUL EPIALES of BELLEVUE WASHINGTON. You were survived by your next of kin, ANNA EPIALES and your ex-wife NIKKI MELAS.” Paul didn’t think that this was very useful information. There weren’t even pictures to accompany the names. After the cartoon had finished speaking, he slid back to the right side of the screen making room for the touch screen interface once more. This time Paul decided he’d wait for the rest of the options to show up.
“Who am I?” appeared first, but was grayed out now. Paul didn’t appear to be able to watch it again if he wanted to. He didn’t want to, but he was now concerned he might be told something important while feeling like he has what can only be compared to the worst hang over he’s ever endured in his life. The menu items showed up in the following order:
Who is NyxTek?
Where am I?
Why am I here?
Skip
The order seemed as good as any Paul would have chosen, so he touched the next item on the list. The cartoon floated back, front and center on the screen. The character pulled out a pipe from his jacket pocket and lit it with a match. “So, you want to know more about NyxTek! That’s great!” The screen changed to a picture of an older woman labeled “Ellen Montgomery.” The cartoon continued “NyxTek was started in 2024 by some college friends who were looking for a way to have a positive impact on the environment around them! In 2028 the company really took off when it was acquired by Ellen Montgomery, a billionaire former pharmaceutical executive who made her fortune attempting to salvage failing tech giants, consolidating their technology and auctioning off their useless assets while monetizing their promising research. There was no shortage of interesting technology to sift through after the 21st century tech giants realized they’d never be allowed into medical treatment fields under current regulatory conditions” The screen showed an office building with NyxTek on the side, it zoomed out until that was just a point somewhere in Ohio. Tiny “bloop” sound effects accompanied pins dropping all over the globe, seeming to represent other NyxTek locations. “Under Ms. Montgomery’s leadership NyxTek was able to grow into the global powerhouse it is today! In 2030 Ellen Montgomery was named as a founder of NyxTek. While not an actual founder of the company it was an honorary title intended to show her dedication to NyxTek’s mission of helping build a better, more sustainable world!” The animated host moved off to the side once more to wait for Paul’s next choice.
Paul clicked “Where am I?” on the display. As before the words faded away and the cartoon moved back to center screen. “Where are you? Well, that’s not an easy question to answer.” The cartoon seemed to become serious. “Let’s start with what I do know about where you are. You are in an X-67 Personal Survival Craft revision series 3204-1127 designed by NyxTek in 2067. It has everything you need to stay alive for extended periods of time in deep space! It’s been rated to survive 780 years in the cold darkness of space. Thanks to breakthroughs by NyxTek engineers, for the vast majority of your trip, you will not age! Pretty cool, huh?” Paul looked over the small enclosed space he found himself in, desperate for something that would orient him, tell him where he is relative to everything he knows and understands. Something that assures him he is not in...space. Space? In space? That can’t be possible! No, not for Paul. What would he even be doing in space? He’s not a scientist, an astronaut, he’s nobody that belongs anywhere near where a cartoon in a suit just insinuated he was. “Well, that covers your immediate surroundings, as for where you are, that’s harder to say, but you should be returning to Earth if everything is working as expected! In the meantime, NyxTek protocol stipulates that each refugee be awoken once every 10 years so that a manual inspection of your X-67 Personal Survival Craft revision series 3204-1127 can be completed by the occupant. That’s you!” Paul’s head ached. He did not believe he was awake, just another in a long line of strange dreams. Paul could feel slow creep of panic setting in. Simultaneously claustrophobic and yet also terrified of the vast emptiness just outside this protective metal tomb. The longer he traced electrical components from their source to their destination, the more he examined the intricate metal detailing that appeared to hold the display in place the more Paul started to believe he could be awake. Everything he traced remained consistent. The ethereal uncertainty of a dream, that uncertainty that may change an object’s appearance each time you focus on it did not exist in this space, this was all so...real.
“Why am I here?” showed up in large letters on the display. Paul had not touched the screen for several minutes. It must go on to the next choice after some period of inactivity. He was trying to process what he was being told but he just wanted to go back to sleep. “This is just a bad dream and soon I’ll move on to another one.” Paul’s effort to convince himself wasn’t going well. The suited cartoon once again took center screen “Well, you are here for any number of reasons. By the year 2050 it was clear to NyxTek that Earth’s environment could not be repaired under current conditions. As environmental devastation grew worse, people turned on the governments that failed to protect them and a new age of civil unrest gripped the planet.” There were pictures of cities thick with smoke, forest fires, and all sorts of other natural disasters to accompany the message of apocalypse. “NyxTek offered a new, different, way forward. In 2062 Ellen Montgomery assumed command of Earth’s last functioning military. In 2063 NyxTek’s army had united all the fledgling armies under a common goal of preserving mankind. By 2065 the Federated States of Earth had voted on an exciting new course of action to save humanity! Anyone who was considered too ‘burdensome’ would be vacated from Earth! Why and by whom you were labeled a burden will always be a protected company secret, but in many cases the reason should be obvious!” The cartoon didn’t seem to care that what it was saying was insane, he continued on anyway. “By reducing Earth’s population from 16 billion to approximately 1 billion, the remaining population will be able to solve the hard problems facing mankind. Possible thanks to the superb leadership of NyxTek, that, quite frankly, you weren’t going to be any help with.” The display showed pictures of incomprehensibly large metal tubes being constructed, tens of thousands of cylinders fitting into each one, presumably each one containing a person. “The ‘Space Elevator’ was completed in 2067, this allowed the first launch of our burdensome population on their 500-year journey through our solar system!” Paul’s heart sank as it was becoming clear that if he ever makes it out of this tube, it won’t be a return to anything he left. Paul should be livid, Paul should be screaming obscenities and trying to scheme something to do. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was that this is apparently not the first time Paul had seen this exact presentation. Whatever the reason Paul just continued to watch quietly. “Your launch date was November 16th, 2071 and you are slated to return to Earth on approximately December 1st 2570! When you return, a NyxTek built utopia will await you. Oh, I’m so jealous of the wonderful things you’ll see when Earth’s population is prepared to adequately care for you once more! While you sleep, all of the problems you left behind will be fixed by capable friends and family who cared about you enough to give you this opportunity.” The cartoon faded back to the side once more.
After a moment of being on the side of the screen, the cartoon moved one final time to the middle. “It’s time to do a safety check of your NyxTek X-67 Personal Survival Craft revision series 3204-1127!” The screen came up with a checklist for Paul. The screen had a header that read “Checklist 37.” As Paul clicked through the items the same cartoon would explain what Paul would need to look at. “Use each camera to examine critical external components on the hull of the Personal Survival Craft” the cartoon said in response to Paul selecting “Visual Inspection of Craft Integrity.” Paul’s head was hurting, his mouth was dry and things were really starting to spin again as his nausea returned. Paul did not care about performing a checklist right now, especially not one that told him he had done this 36 times before, waking up for who knows how long every ten years just to be reminded he’s floating helplessly in his tiny metal island. Paul clicked the “Skip” button at the bottom of the checklist. “Thanks for checking up on the critical systems in your NyxTek X-67 Personal Survival Craft revision series 3204-1127! I’ll see you in another ten years! Please count with me backward from 100.” Paul began to panic, what if he didn’t wake up? What if he did? What, he just goes back to sleep now? That’s it? Will he remember any of this? “98. 97. 96.” Paul could no longer keep his eyes open; his right arm was as numb as his left. “92. 91. 90.” Paul could feel his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, his heart beating loudly for a moment, then just rhythmically. “84, 83, 82.” Paul was fast asleep and could no longer hear the countdown. The display screen powered off causing the interior of the NyxTek X-67 Personal Survival Craft to return to its normal state of darkness.