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<!DOCTYPE html> < html > < head > < title > Wake Up! < / title > < link rel = "stylesheet" type = "text/css" href = "html_resources/style.css" > < / head > < body > < a href = "index.html" > < button class = "back" > < < / button > < / a >
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< h1 > Wake Up! < / h1 >
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< p >
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< span class = "quote speech" > Awh fuck!< / span > Jack exclaims in pain as he
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wakes up. He has a terrible headache. While moving his hands up to hold
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his head, he realizes that his entire body hurts.
< span class = "quote speech" > Owowowww... Ouch!< / span > < br / >
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An automated voice comes on: < span class = "quote speech" > Emergency
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defrost complete. Entering low power mode.< / span > < br / >
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He thinks: < span class = "quote non-speech" > Get it together, Jack!
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You knew this was gonna happen. You have trained for this. Where are the
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meds again? ...< / span >
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< / p >
< p >
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Waiting for the painkillers to kick in, he stays in his preservation
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chamber until he is fully awake. As he stands there, looking out of the
small window in the door, he notices something off. The bunker looks
different from yesterday - not yesterday! That was years ago, probably
decades... Besides the point. It looks different. Not just
< span class = "quote non-speech" > things have moved around< / span > different,
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it gives off the vibe of a full-on lost place. Unexpected but whatever...
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< / p >
< p >
The pressurized air hisses in the lines as the door of the preservation
chamber swings aside. Jack steps out into the bunker, breathes the musty
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air, and looks around. The light shining out of his chamber reveals a
dirty floor. The table and chairs in front of him as well as the kitchen
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area across the room are covered in dust and all exposed bits of metal
have rust. The red night lights on the ceiling are dimly illuminating
the rest of the bunker. He looks to the left: The wall is lined with
other preservation chambers, all but one of them being powered down.
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In the corner is the minicomputer controlling the bunker, a half-height
rack filled to the brim with devices, and next to it a teleprinter, a
computer-controlled typewriter. Along the rear wall are desks holding a
radio and a terminal, a device with a keyboard and a screen, and above
them a phone on the wall – nothing out of the ordinary here.
He looks to the right: More preservation chambers. Instead of a wall,
there' s the bunker door – door is a bit of an understatement,
it' s a massive gate. A small slither of light passes under it.
< span class = "quote speech" > These fucking idiots... They didn' t
reseal it properly.< / span >
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< / p >
< p >
He walks over to the door' s control panel. The paint is flaking off
revealing the rust underneath. Jack attempts to press a couple buttons
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but they get stuck and nothing happens. A couple expletives and banging
on the panel later, he turns back to the inside of the bunker looking
for tools, contemplating the tradeoff between waking up a couple years
too soon and getting slowly poisoned by the air, and being locked inside
a bunker due to a bunch of apparent troglodytes unable to close a door
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properly... Doesn' t matter, too late now.
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< / p >
< p >
As he passes each of the presevation chambers, he looks into them. Empty,
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empty, empty - nothing unexpected here. The others would have been woken
up over time. His own chamber... He presses a few buttons to fully shut
it down. The lamp in the ceiling turns off, the door closes, the status
lights turn off. After passing two other empty preservaton chambers, he
reaches the one that remains active.< br / >
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< span class = "quote speech" > Hello Michelle.< / span > < br / >
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He checks the status lights of her chamber.< br / >
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< span class = "quote speech" > I think I' m gonna leave you in there
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until I find a way out of here — should be fine...< / span > < br / >
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He continues past the remaining empty chambers to the back of the bunker.
< / p >
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< p >
Jack opens the cabinets under each of the desks while talking to himself:
< span class = "quote speech" > Where is that fucking toolbox?< / span >
< span class = "comment" > Do we have an alternative expletive to use?< / span >
Well, it isn' t there. He continues with the kitchen area. Still
nothing. He enters the bathroom through a door next to the kitchen area.
Nope, not here either. < span class = "quote speech" > Welp, time to
improvise.< / span >
< / p >
< p >
He returns to the kitchen area and rummages through the drawers to find
anything useful. He grabs a fork. < span class = "quote speech" > Works as a
screwdriver, I guess...< / span > He proceeds to jam the handle into a
screw on one of the kitchen cabinets to see if it will turn. It does
– barely. Using a slightly rusty knife sharpener
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< span class = "comment" > sharpening rod?< / span > he begins the long and
arduous process of making the fork handle more suitable as a screwdriver,
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grinding its end over it over and over and over. He does this for a long
time. Over and over and over. His fingers start to go sore and he stops
to inspect his work. < span class = "quote speech" > Meh, could work.< / span >
He tests it on the kitchen cabinet again.
< / p >
< p >
His newly gained screwdriver in hand, he walks back to the control panel
for the door and unscrews it. After a bit of fiddling, the panel lifts
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out of the niche in the wall, pulling cables out of the box under it.
Holding the fork by the handle, he bends the < span class = "comment" >
middle? inner?< / span > prongs out of the way and attempts to bridge the
control panel' s switches using the outer prongs. Nothing happens.
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< span class = "quote speech" > Of couse it wasn't gonna be that easy.< / span >
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He starts to dig into the wires, attempting to find the fault, but
realizes after a while that the wiring is more complex than expected
and he has no idea what he' s doing.
< span class = "quote speech" > Let' s get the manual for this
thing...< / span > < span class = "comment" > He probably wouldn' t say it
like that while talking to himself.< / span >
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< / p >
< p >
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Jack returns to the desk with the terminal and flips the switch on the
desk lamp. It flickers for a moment before turning off again. He flips
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the switch back and leans over the terminal to turn it on –
Bonk! At least this seems to work. While waiting for the picture tube to
warm up, he walks over to the rack and sits down on the floor in front
of it. He inspects the status lights on the various devices, thinking
aloud: < span class = "quote speech" > CPU is idle, serials are idle,
cryogenics control unit sees one active chamber, primary hard drive is
powered up – all good. Secondary hard drive is powered down,
let' s change that...< / span > He pushes the power button and hears
the spindle motor kick on. The power button blinks. There is some
intermittent rattling from the drive, probably a shot bearing.
He hears the platters inside accelerate for an unusually long time.
Impatiently sitting there, Jack waits for the drive to be ready.
Clicking from the mechanism unlocking the heads followed by a ringing
scratching noise. < span class = "quote speech" > Of course.< / span > He
quickly presses the power button again. The scratching stops and the
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spindle motor turns off, followed by the platters slowly decelerating.
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< span class = "quote speech" > That' s gonna be an ugly head crash.
No manuals for me, I guess...< / span >
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< / p >
< p >
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He gets up and walks over to the phone. Maybe, the lines to
< dome city> still work. Not exactly excited by the prospect of
calling random people, but not seeing another option, he reaches for
the receiver. It lifts off the wall with a quiet click and Jack begins
to dial. He holds the receiver to his ear - silence.
< span class = "quote speech" > Welp, that' s that.< / span > He puts it
back on the wall.
< / p >
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< p >
In an attempt to find anything useful, he sits down at the terminal and
logs on.
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< / p >
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< pre class = "terminal" >
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Tue, 2106-06-01, 18:01
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EARTH-53 Login: jack
Password:
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Welcome to INUX!
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$ █
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< / pre >
< p >
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< span class = "quote speech" > So it' s been over a hundred years,
hm...< / span > He starts going through the files, hoping he misremembered
where the manuals were stored, but to no avail, they are gone.
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< / p >
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