//------------------------------// // 2 - Maybe It Was The Sushi I Ate? // Story: Poniocracy // by sunnypack //------------------------------// Chapter 2: Maybe It Was The Sushi I Ate? Here’s the thing about waking up in the future — you never quite know what to expect. For most people when they wake up from cryostasis, they might find themselves on a spaceship with major systems failing. Perhaps they accidentally got frozen while delivering pizza and come out into a wide, sprawling futuristic community. Maybe, if they’re really unlucky, they could accidentally wake up in some modern dystopia where everything is controlled by tight lipped senators. The one thing in common with all of these scenarios is that there would still be humans. David was not expecting a unicorn. Conversely, he was expecting his medical overseer. No matter how incompetent that doctor sounded, David was confident that he was at least partially enthusiastic about completing the project. David was really not expecting a unicorn. David was not exactly an average person, insomuch as the doctor had claimed. He was simply normal. Normal to the point that someone would think, ‘if he wore a red shirt I would probably be sad for about ten seconds of on-screen time.’ David was a pretty non-average person because he was so normal he was bland. Then again, following a series of interesting events surrounding an uninteresting person makes that person an interesting person indeed. Stuck in the struggles of the medium to low income bracket, he slaved away working as a handyman at several medical research institutes until he unwittingly signed a contract that got him on a better payroll. What should have tipped him off about this ‘opportunity’, as the sleazy salesman-type recruiter had pitched to him, was that David was only required to eat well, exercise and be on call when they needed him for a clinical trial. When one thinks of clinical trials the mind gravitates to the development of world-class drugs, new diagnostic testing or possibly new and innovative therapies. Not being frozen in a cryogenic stasis pod. David received the notice via sms: David, 2day is ur lucky day! The Institute 4 Cryogenic Research & Development has selected u 4 a clinical trial! Report tomorrow @ 7 AM 4 a $ 50 reimbursement @ end of trial. Mr. Johnson, CEO That REALLY should have tipped him off. Waking up from cryo-sleep was a shocking experience. After melting all the microscopic ice particles in David’s bloodstream via the reversal of whatever preservative was injected to prevent those crystals from killing all his cells, adrenaline followed to prime his heart followed by about two thousand volts to depolarise the big ol’ circulatory muscle and get it beating again. The cool thing about this procedure was that it was worked akin to kicking a drunk, almost passed out college student and hoping they would wake up. In most cases, you’ll get an uncooperative grunt and they’ll go back to sleep, but every now and again you might get a more interesting response—yelling and screaming perhaps, or a funny line before collapsing back to dreamland. When David regained consciousness for the first time, it felt like he’d had the biggest hangover since… well since ever. He wasn’t much of a drinker so his frame of reference was limited to the few times he’d actually been smashed out of his mind—rush week freshman year stood out as one such time. Confused and disoriented, he looked to the right and recoiled from the extremely bright light which he assumed came from the surgical theatre lamps. To his left were books and shelves. Lots of books and shelves. Blinking, he shifted his gaze upward as something purple, black and pink drifted into view. It resolved itself more distinctly as... well… David thought the drugs would have worn off by now. His sluggish brain sparked dully as the gears began to turn and he tried to process the onrush of information. His brain decided that ten-thousand years of napping wasn’t quite enough and gave up on the spot. The body’s union then fired up its defenses to protect it against a lawsuit from the gut company—which was complaining that David hadn’t used the facilities before he embarked on this experiment. The stress was beginning to take its toll. The gut system was overruled because the brain owned the union and it was a dictatorship. Later, when the immune system finally got sick of slaving away at below minimum wage and decided to declare war on everything, the revolution that resulted from the overactive destruction of cancerous insurgents hanging around David’s legs served to alleviate the latent intent of the cancer in destroying his whole body which was inadvertently thwarted in the immunosuppressive coup. Shocked at the development, the body finally accepted a democracy at David’s tender age of ninety eight, brooking a new age of peace and prosperity. Only one year later, David succumbed to old age and passed away peacefully—though, he was never quite sure why he felt so much at peace during his last year of life. It just goes to show that inner peace was just as important as outer peace. Whatever that meant. In light of this, David recalled the only thing that came to mind when he saw the purple equine-shaped creature studying him. “You’re not my doctor.” As David sunk back down, fairly pleased with himself that he was able to initiate verbal communication at all, he spotted a faint outline of a symbol on the side of his cryo-chamber. He didn’t spend much time processing it before collapsing into a deep state of unconsciousness. —— The best way to incite argument is to throw a controversial idea among your fellow species and then ask for a ‘discussion.’ Discussions were a misnomer. With a hot topic such as a relic preserving a live being from millennia ago, it would undoubtedly bring the religious ones, the scholarly ones, the political ones, the excited ones, the angry ones, the hopeful ones, the crazy ones and of course, the rich ones in droves. The Gorlians had long ago abandoned politics. As long as it didn’t affect them, other Gorlians could do whatever they wanted. Some of them liked to spy on other planets to see if the native lifeforms had evolved to a point where an interesting dialog could begin. It just so happened that they were curiously checking up on the planet where those crazy ape-like people lived. Hopeful that there had been some progress, they spotted the equine-like creatures and found that the humans had moved on. This caused some measure of panic. Some Gorlians immediately hopped in their battlecruisers to ‘contain’ the infestation. The others stayed behind to observe these new, interestingly peaceful creatures. What they found, they liked, even if these equines were ridiculous from time to time. They didn’t initiate First Contact though, as they were leery of what their projections showed. Meanwhile, Twilight was having fun talking to the cryogenics unit. Now that supporting a human wasn’t on its list of things to do, the pod could now speak to occupants in the room. It didn’t like speaking to the doctor, who was mostly wasted in a perpetual state of drunkenness owing to his self-prescribed dosing of Fosters. It also thought David was boring. All he did was talk about work, relationships and the weather—the three most boring topics in the known universe. All that aside, whirring to life it immediately spotted the purple equine-shaped creature and proceeded to have a stimulating conversation with it. “Hello,” it began using standard contact protocols in English. It didn’t know whether or not the horned equine could answer, but by golly it would try! “My designation is Cryo-stasis Pod One, version zero point zero zero one five, but you can call me Cry-pod.” Twilight gaped at the box when it seemed to be talking to her. “Uhm, what?” she garbled incoherently. “I’m glad you speak English,” Cry-pod continued. “I was getting worried that there would be some sort of communication barrier that would undoubtedly hinder our interaction.” Twilight cocked her head. “Yes…” was all she could say. What? You try talking to a box! The Cry-pod continued its buzzing and beeping, potentially assessing the likelihood of further conversation. The probability was decreasing by a factor of ten with every twenty seconds of silence. “What is your designation?” Twilight put a hoof to her head. Was it asking for her name? Quite possibly. She gathered herself up and composed her thoughts. “Ahem, my name is Twilight Sparkle-“ “Hello, Ahemmynameistwilightsparkle” “Wha- no, I’m saying my name is-“ “Relax, Twilight Sparkle. I am merely trying to interject humour. This was a popular format in my recorded human plays, although it may not translate to alien organisms.” The Cry-pod paused. “Was it humorous?” Twilight took a deep breath forcing herself to relax the tense muscles down her neck. “Perhaps we could discuss humour later? You might want to talk to my friend Pink-“ “What is your age?” Twilight gaped at the ornately decorated device. “I’m sorry, what?” The Cry-pod paused. “My apologies, I was reviewing the human interactions manual and I had not reached the section on conversation pauses.” It paused again. “I think I’m doing quite well.” Twilight let loose something between a scream and a grunt. “Okay, ‘Cry-pod’, I have a feeling you will be dictating the conversation so why don’t you go first with your question, end, and let me respond until I finish and then continue as such. I think that would promote the most efficient method of communication.” Twilight crossed her forelimbs in front of her chest as she sat down on her haunches. The machine stayed quiet for some time. Twilight began to worry. “H-Hello?” The Cry-pod immediately responded. “Once again, my apologies, I have taken the time to write another manual for these series of interactions, hopefully it will prevent utter destruction and chaos!” The Cry-pod was silent for a moment more. “I appear to have a heating problem. Dissipating heat now.” Twilight cocked her head, curious. “AHHHHHH!” a voice echoed from within the chamber. Twilight’s eyes widened as she hurried to peer in. “WARNING: Subjects should not be present in capsule while venting is in progress.” “Ah! Ow! Hot! What?! How?!” the biped screamed hoarsely as it leapt out of the capsule. Twilight could only stare in disbelief as it staggered around a few steps and collapsed in front of her hooves. “What in the world?” Twilight reared back, gobsmacked.