The absence of sensation had been a steady companion. Unwelcome as it had been, the womb like embrace of the tempered glass tube seemed to have grown to be a part of him. Whatever aspect of who he had been before his unconscious body had been placed into stasis, it was a weak flicker in an ocean of numbing silence. Henry Clayton was accustomed to this existence, which is to say, barely one at all.

There was a pressure first, a dull push on his inner ear. The whirring and clicking of the CryoPod sputtering to life was like a distant dream, the damaged pneumatic tube system quickly overheating in its attempts to pump the rapidly defrosting liquid from the chamber. Clayton, the small part of him that had accepted his state sought to deny the waking nerve endings. His eyes fluttered as for the first time as his upper body was exposed to crisp fresh air. his limp carcass held aloft by sagging suspension wires.

Synthetic fingers twitched as the numerous IVs, long needles plugged in at strategic points throughout his torso all came sliding out in perfect synchronicity along with the thin hoses stuffed down his nose and throat. The sizzling crackle of electricity filled the air. The smooth opening motion of the door hiccuped as a small flood of the remaining CryoSleep liquid came spilling forth, along with his unprepared body.

His mind reeled, physical orientation all but forgotten, conscious thought crying out for a return to ‘normal,’ the essence of life forced back into a shell it thought lost. Heart and lung function burst back into rapid, throbbing rhythm as he was deposited roughly on the floor, a streak of blue bile erupting from the depths of his stomach. 

Clayton’s lungs sucked in oxygen in long haggard rips, like a fish out of water, as he collapsed fully into the fresh blue stain. Awakened muscles pulsed and flexed against the wet floor they regained function. With great effort Henry clumsily managed to roll to his back, eyes clamped shut in anguish his body racked with throaty, burning coughs. Sparks shot in irregular clumps from the digital screen afixed to the side of his pod, dancing across his damp skin in angry hisses.

As his body struggled to adjust there was a part of him that recognized the sound of a human voice, it sounded nearby but the words didn’t register. Another flume of blue sprang from Clayton’s esophagus as he rolled to a seated position, spraying the frosty interior of what had been his home.

Groaning painfully Clayton slumped back to the floor, another fit of coughs catching in his lungs.

[color=khaki]“Cr-Cry-C-C-CryoPod One. One. One. One…Dam-ma-mmamamage De-De-Detected.”[/color] The cheery automated voice stuttered from the speakers above him. Clayton’s piercing sapphires assessed the machine critically, a grimace plastered on his features. 

[color=khaki]“Re-Report To Clini-ni-ni-Clinic Sector Bravo.Vo.Vo. F-F-For Assessment.”[/color] The voice chirpped.

Recognition of his surroundings dawned slowly on the botanist, his head slowly turned toward the shattered window to the sprawling expanse of green ruin stretched endlessly past the horizon. Clayton's bearded jaw fell open.

[color=lightseagreen]“Where, Uhgf.”[/color] He coughed out another gelatinous chunk of blue slime. Clayton gazed at his trembling hands. 

			[i]Who am I?[/i] 
					[i]What is this place?[/i]