I woke up, my head was pounding, as my vision faded in, and I saw my first sight. The first sight I had seen in quite some time- Orange. The color orange. But it wasn’t called orange then, it was another word, because I didn’t think in this language yet. I only had the few words I needed for a basic vocabulary, the ones we were certain of from hearing the radio brodcasts and watching the all but destroyed television signals. It was not my language then, but it would have to become mine. I was now in the heavily oxygenated atmosphere- practically swimming in it.
But this was quite some time ago, about eight of your years ago, to be exact.
All that’s left from the orange interior of my capsule is a small scrap of painted metal, a sovenir from another world. I’ve kept it with me over the years, along with my other reminders that I did indeed lead another life once. That life was gone for the moment, but for a worthy cause. I was an adventurer. Dead or alive. And I had an oath to tell no one. This is just my story. Nothing more.
I woke up, this time to an alarm. I yawned, turned it off, and almost drifted back to sleep. I caught myself. Today must be the 8th, I thought, July 8th, 1973. Something seemed familiar with that date. 7/8/1973. Seven multiplied by eight multiplied by seventy-three is four thousand and eighty-eight, I thought, there must be something with that number.
“Calendar, what do I have on my scedule for today?” I asked the machine, laying on my back, too lazy to get up and look. I heard the computer calculating my words, its fans whirling around as it searched for an answer. It finally printed out a slip of paper. I grabbed the end of it, reading the text.
Right. I had it set to morse code.
Something I had to learn better if I was going to get the job. Just in case. I read the slip, it took me a while, but I tossed it aside, rushing to get out of bed.
“The eighth! Why didn’t I set my alarm- Going to be late now, damn it!”
There was no time to take a shower, so I ran into the washroom, splashed some water on my hair (nearly drowned myself getting my head stuck under the faucet), sprayed some product on it (my own kind of “magic” formula), combed it, brushed it, and blew it dry- started to, when the thing shorted out. No matter. I could go on.
I muttered the lyrics of a song under my breath as I pulled open the drawers of my dresser.
“She turns me on... Don’t get me wrong, I’m only dancing... I’ve got to be something presentable... Got to look respectable... Got to-” I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It would take work to take anything about my apperance seriously, but they already had my credentials. I ran my hand through the front of my hair, smoothed down the back. And, like the scrap of metal I had in a shoebox under my bed, it was orange. “Okay, okay, I’ve got almost everything- Socks- Missing something...” I looked in the mirror again. “Bandages!” I shouted, searching my room again. I found the strips of cloth and wrapped them around my neck, securing them tightly. It always hurt at first, but now it was normal. To play a part you had to look the part. Conceal anything that would be considdered abnormal. I wrapped a scarf over it, smiled in the mirror, checking to see if anything was out of place. Nothing. Nothing to give away anything unusual. I put on my shoes, grabbed whatever else I needed, and walked out.
Though nervous, I was excited. Very excited, so excited, probably nearly the most excited I had been in almost my entire life. Certaintly the most since I had gotten here. It was a chance, a chance to go home.
But there was competition.
Being one of the 1% most intelligent people on the planet was lucky. Being acknowledged after sending in a request as one of 600 in 27,000 people was very very lucky.
But what I did today would determine the rest.
Becoming one of the lucky 150 who actually stand a chance, who get interviewed personally, who get inspected detail after detail, that was beyond lucky.
Then there was the 80 who actually
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