The darkness was absolute, enveloping, as a peaceful shadow waiting slowly to reveal itself. A shroud that held him tight in its grasp. Q felt the cold seep into his bones, penetrating his very essence as he lay suspended in the void of cryo-sleep.
Time had become an abstract concept, a distant memory lost to the abyss. He drifted in the liminal space between consciousness and oblivion, unaware of the passage of years, decades, perhaps even centuries.
The little thing he remembered was her dark hair and this rose's smell she always had... and... nothingness. He was feeling confused, dull.
He had a note scratched on his chest, full of dust and yellowed by the time. He had a look at it "I am sorry" Signed: "your love for ever, Kate"
Like a whisper in the silence, a faint warmth began to stir within him. It started as a flutter, a gentle stirring of the senses, before blossoming into a crescendo of sensation. Q felt his muscles twitch, his mind slowly awakening from its long slumber. With a gasp, he surged back to life, consciousness flooding his senses like a deluge after a drought. He felt cold, almost frozen as his skin was shivering.
He suddenly remembered almost everything, The US president and his eternal arrogance, the UK's premier and his meeting with Xi, the betrayal of France, the German's government going back to 1935's ideology, the rise of extremism, the naivety of Europe to believe they had what it takes to fight...
As his eyes flickered open, Q found himself engulfed in a soft, pulsating light. It danced across the walls of his chamber, casting strange shadows that seemed to writhe and twist with a life of their own. For a moment, he lay there, disoriented, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Far, far away he could hear some distant sounds, or was it a language? He looked at his left hand, his Tissot watch, a wise gift of the commander before his "first" death as he liked to call it.
He became accustomed to this watch.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, pain, pain took his entire body. He took his head over his hands and started felt face first to the ground. White stone, dusty, a lot of dust in fact, he cuffed and some Bisard yellow things went out of him. Surely one of the effects of the cryonization.
With a grunt, Q pushed himself upright, his joints protesting with a chorus of creaks and groans. He flexed his fingers, feeling the stiffness gradually ebb away as circulation returned to his limbs. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs over and planted his feet firmly on the cold stone floor.
As he stood there, taking in his surroundings, Q's heart sank like a stone. This was not the world he remembered. Gone were the familiar sights and sounds of home, replaced by a sterile, alien environment that bore no resemblance to the world he once knew.
The chamber was sleek and modern, its walls adorned with strange symbols and intricate patterns that seemed to pulsate with an ancient energy. Those pattern seemed so similar but he couldn't understand them. Was it Japanese, Korean, Chinese... or something ... else?
Tubes and wires snaked across the floor like serpents, connecting various pods to a central hub that hummed with life. And beyond the transparent walls of his chamber, Q could see a vast expanse of darkness, punctuated only by pinpricks of light that twinkled in the distance. No one at the horizon.
With a sense of dread creeping over him, Q staggered to his feet and stumbled towards the exit. The door slid open with a hiss of compressed air, revealing a corridor that stretched out into the unknown. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he ventured further into the heart of this strange new world.
"Is there anyone" the echo came back to him, as an answer...
Where was the sounds he heard earlier, was it an effect of his weak mind? Or a distant reality?
As he walked, Q couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Everywhere he looked, he saw signs of a civilization unlike any he had ever known. Giant screens adorned the walls, displaying images of bustling cities and towering skyscrapers that reached towards the heavens.
On those screens, people bustled about, their faces obscured by masks and helmets, their movements swift and purposeful. One depicted what seemed to be a Royal Panda putting his feet over the world, while eating a bamboo stick peacefully.
And everywhere he turned, Q saw the unmistakable mark of Asian culture and technology. (Was it still called "Asian"?)
From the architecture to the language spoken by the inhabitants, it was clear that the East now reigned supreme, while the West had become nothing more than a distant memory. As expected.
Was it "China" or "something" else. Curiosity was slowly invading him, what was the new world like? Was war still on? Suddenly fear took over curiosity, what if he was alone, the last man standing, in an inhabited world?
As he navigated the maze-like corridors of the facility, Q couldn't help but feel a sense of displacement wash over him. He was a stranger in a strange land, an outlaw in a world that had long since moved on without him. And yet, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him, he knew that he had a purpose, a destiny that called out to him from the depths of his soul.
With each step he took, Q felt a flicker of determination ignite within him. He may have been lost in time, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, but he refused to be swept away by the tide.
There is this thing, this conviction one can have and that could be regarded as hope by some, but when you experience it you know better than that. It's a mix of determination and enragement toward a goal, that you know nothing that would happen will stop you from reaching that goal, ethic, value, logic, fall far behind and what's left is an infinite energy of convictions. Call it stupid or unrealistic, but that was where Q was standing as of now, convinced that even the end of humanity would not stop him from accomplishing his goal.