I remember specifically asking the hibernation technician if I would dream. He told me that was an urban legend. I remember little else. The longer this goes on the more it all seems to run together.
It comes to me in a flash. My ninth birthday party. Jennifer was there. I got a fuel cell bicycle from my dad. I remember my mom scolding me not to leave my slice of cake sitting outside because "It will attract animals, they'll keep coming here looking for food." Vague recollections of my exam for a manual car operation license.
The hibernation chamber is as warm and comforting as it was the last time. Wear and grime continues to accumulate. For a dream, it really nails little nitty gritty details like that. Evidently this is what happens when you sleep for a century. Even has the big stenciled "chamber 3" on the outside.
I poke at the terminal, right where it always is. The flickering display is entirely in Japanese. Never any help. I make the routine token effort to fix it by bashing at the keyboard but get only cascading error message windows. At least I assume that's what they are. Fucking moon runes.
I can still recall bits and pieces of the dream. Same one as always with minor differences each time. I never was the creative type. But oh lord, the ending. The flash of long sharp teeth, the gut wrenching sting as they tore into me, the warmth of my own fresh blood spilling out all over my neck and chest.
When I wake up I'll have to talk to the ship psych about it. He'll know what it means. For the time being there's not a lot else to do but search outside.
The other hibernation chambers are all bashed up beyond recognition, the far side of the hull crumpled inward by the impact of landing. Under different circumstances, it'd be miraculous that I survived.
Following the illuminated strips at ankle height down the corridor I arrived at the exterior airlock. The pad scans my iris and palm before admitting me. The inner door shuts, the familiar hiss of pressurization and decontamination follows, then the outer door opens.
Of course, the air is breathable. I suppose complaining about that, as if it's the most unrealistic thing about these little nocturnal voyages, would be a bit silly.
Before me is a roiling wall of black fog. So thick that it looks as if I could grab a big fluffy chunk of it. Instead I step out of the escape pod and onto the cold, wet ground.
The fog swallows me whole. I hold my hands up in front of my face and, no surprise, cannot see them. I keep hoping I'll slip up eventually because it's a pain in the ass to navigate this terrain effectively blind.
I first follow the outer edge of the escape pod's hull. Everything's where it should be. The side impacted into the mud is a tangled mess of shredded aluminum that I accidentally cut myself on. If I weren't hibernating I figure this would wake me, but I've long since tried every trick along those lines. Pinching myself, looking for the Moon, you name it.
My feet sink into the mud. The cold doesn't phase me. I'll wake up again soon enough, warm and cozy. I'd stay in the chamber next time except I did that the first dozen times and simply starved to death. The pain felt viscerally real. The power of the human brain still astonishes me.
Venturing outside gets it over with quicker and I still hope to eventually find some other place to explore that isn't shrouded in this damned fog. I've tried every direction. I set off for a lake I've tried to circumnavigate at least a hundred times now. Maybe if I swim for it?
The water is ice cold. I know I won't get far, but it's something different at least. I wade in, cringing as sensitive parts of me hit the water. I try a feeble breast stroke. Something brushes my calf. I shudder, remembering times I've swimmed in the ocean and felt seaweed on my leg. But then it wraps around my leg and tightens.
I thrash wildly but it pulls me under. The primal part of my mind is frightened but I've died in worse ways so many times now that it borders on banal. I feel a serrated beak cleave into my thigh, and warm blood mixing with the frigid lake water around me. I deliberately gulp it into my lungs, convulse, and black out.
My eyelids flutter, then part. I squint, the bright lights of the hibernation chamber painful at first until my irises adjust. I wish I had a journal or something. I could add "death by drowning" and at least have some sense of progress, or accomplishment.
I poke at the terminal. Still incomprehensible. If there were a book on Japanese laying around someplace I could learn it. I have all the time in the world. But for that to happen I would already need to know Japanese, wouldn't I? Or I'd open it and it'd just be random squiggly marks.
I yawn and scratch my crotch. Ambling down the corridor, guided by the illuminated strips, I once again arrive at the airlock. Completing the biometric security ritual it opens to receive me and I oblige. Hissing follows as it cycles, then I am once again outside.
Stay tuned for part 2!