I managed to choke out words: “D-doctor Wilhow? I thought he was….” The words almost seemed to have no familiarity, no meaning, but the man in the gray uniform responded. Almost too fast for me to comprehend:

“Oh! That’s right! Dr. Wilhow was killed during your simulation. It’s alright, son. He’s alive.”

“Wha…..what? How can that be?” I stammered.

The man’s watch suddenly started to beep sporadically. The sound was jarring. The man looked at me quickly:

“Oh! Too much time has passed! You have to get down the hall, now! You have to make it to your orientation!”

“O-......orientation?” I asked, confused.

“You’ll understand soon, now just get out of that pod you’re in and open the third door to your right that’s down that hall. Go!” The man said, jabbing a finger over towards the left of the room, where a small threshold stood that led to a long hallway.

The years, possibly decades, of being in a pod were taking their toll as my slow steps became labored and I counted to the third door and stumbled in.