Strolling through an abandoned sewer in a possibly post apocalyptic world was not on my mind when I first entered the Cryo-Tube. In retrospect, that scenario really should have came up at some point over the past hundred years. The only source of light was from my shoulder torch, and the only living things around me were countable by the glint from the beady eyes of rats. The only other sound beside my steady steps were the jingling of the carabiners that held the coil of wires that dangled from my backpack.

“Oh,” I said out loud as a glint of paint shone back at me. “A ladder,” I found myself speaking aloud on the way over after I cut off the video playback.

I was watching Doctor Parker's video when I nearly slipped on a patch of moss. Partly because it was hard to watch where you are going with one eye distracted, but also due to the doctor simultaneously boring me with a prolonged lecture on my health.

“Thanks for everything, doc.”

Behind me, the coil of wires had been unravelled like breadcrumbs. Attached to them at the end of the line was the underground power generator. According to Clover's notes, the cables were made from high density, extremely conductive metal, allowing them to survive the decades without corroding to time and served their purpose for transferring power from the generator to the old Cryo-Tube.

I tugged on them to make sure they were not caught on anything before beginning my climb up the ladder. At the top of the climb, I pushed against the manhole cover and climbed out into Roagnark's tunnelled streets, right outside the entrance to the Forum Warehouse dome. The pathway was darkened by decades of neglect with a stench of rust in the air. The door was kept shut. With no power going to the gate, I decided to brute force my way in.

With my robot arm, I pushed against one of the door. The gear in my arm whirred as I did, the door slowly creaking open. It was the first time I could physically feel my arm working, and it was a feeling that would no doubt take time to get used to. The nano-cable attached to the nerves of my arm seemed to tug gently from the inside, as if it was trying to pluck a booger from within my body. When the door was opened just wide enough for me to squeeze through, a loud crack like the snap of a whip blasted at my right ear. Pain jabbed at my right shoulder as my arm snapped back.

“Argh!” I screamed, grabbing at my cybernetic with my flesh and blood, neither arm capable of feeling anything.

The pain faded almost instantaneously and I made a quick check of my arm. It was still attached, but the elbow no longer responded correctly to my will. It just shook and vibrated when I tried to move it.

“Damn it...” I cursed. The crack must have been caused by a gear that broke apart. Thankfully my hands could still move, rotating, opening, and closing fine.

Not wanting to risk another injury, I squeezed through the small gap instead of trying to widen it. Once through, I removed the cables from their carriers and strung it onto my broken arm, using the malfunctioned million-dollars cybernetic as a hangar.

Abandoned and without life, the dome of the Forum Warehouse was shrouded in darkness. My torchlight ran over the scene, lighting the grey walls like a spotlight unto a stage. What was once a realistic simulation of clear blue skies were now lifeless and cracked, rusted and burnt. In the middle of it all was the original Cryo-Tube, the big metal rice cooker.

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I announced, “Initiate video playback.”

My left eye stopped transmitting images of my surrounding and quickly loaded up the next video in the playlist. I walked backwards towards the Cryo-Tube, slowly uncoiling the cables behind me. There were still a quarter of the original coil left, and I thought it very Parker-like for Clover to have over-prepared.

As the colour of the video faded into view, I stopped in my tracks. On the screen was none other than my wife, Joan. She looked to be in her late 40s, after Leila's graduation but before the onset of her illness. Shamefully, I had almost forgotten what she looked like. But when her image popped into view, memories of her flooded back to me like a broken dam. How she always smelled of plants. How she always seemed to have some dirt stuck in her black hair. The lovable stains on her shirt after a hard days work. The ever supporting shoulder that carried me through my life.

Sitting at her kitchen table, a sky-blue nightgown on her, I could immediately tell she had not slept well in her recent time. “Hey Milton,” she greeted. My legs nearly buckled when I heard her voice. She paused, gathered her thoughts, and continued, “I'm um...not sure how long this video is going to be. Leah told me not to make them too bloated, since she's not sure how many she can fit into your memory.”

She stopped again and yawned, then buried her eyes in her hands as she tried to rub her face awake. Even across the ages, I could tell she needed a moment to herself. So without wasting any more time, I continued my work, pulling the wires towards the Cryo-tube.

Joan found her breath and continued, “It shouldn't be a surprise to you by the time you're watching this, but we just found out about your arm.”

“Ah...” I let out the half sigh, understanding her trepidation. The sudden spread of Mist Poisoning to my arm was a shock that nearly killed me and had delayed them bringing me out of cryo-sleep for a decade.

She continued, “I don't know if this will be the last time I get to talk to you. I don't even know when we can get the medical sciences up so we can fix this whole mess.” I wanted to reach through the screen and hug her tight, and was slightly angered that G wasn't there to comfort her. I noticed the living room clock ticked away past 3 A.M. and guessed the man was likely to be asleep. She added, “G's asleep right now.”

I dropped what I was doing and broke out in laughter. My voice echoed throughout the empty dome, cackling away like a mad man in the shady parts of a city street. It amazed me, no, overjoyed me, that she could still anticipate what I was thinking despite there being no logical possibility of her being able to do so. I do not think I have ever loved her as much as I did that moment. With death knocking at the door and darkness surrounding me, she continued to be a light in my life, a little flame that burnt longer and brighter than a wildfire.

She smiled to the camera, a gesture that warmed my heart and steadied my soul. “We miss you. I miss you. Leila's so proud of you right now.” I could tell she had more to tell me. Things about her life, her feelings. But she sets them aside. “I have this strange feeling that, right now, you might be wondering if what we're doing is worth it. Or maybe it's just me.”

She was right, I was wondering. Without focusing, I bumped into the Cryo-Tube podium. I turned around to make sure I do not trip with my next step before setting the cables down on the platform and circled around to the plaque. Though weathered away, one of the phrases that could still be read was 'Hero of the Mist'.

Joan, followed with another one of her rare sighs, said, “The past few months, The Forum's been cracking down on spending. Even some of our anti-Mist projects got cut. It's all political plays, and it really makes you think. Even in such dark times, people still want to consolidate their power.” I look to the bench that I had once sat on and thought of the little girl named Sally that came with a glitter of hope in her eyes. Even without Joan saying it, I knew where she was headed with her train of thoughts. “But I'd like to think there are still good people left worth fighting for. And if you ever start doubting yourself, I want you to remember that.”

I saw two more words through the dusted plaque. Project Dawn. The name of the project. I had hardly heard much of, mostly since I did not have the time or luxury to ask. I was mostly rushed from one place to another. But I felt that the name was made to inspire renewed hope. Hope like the one that little girl Sally embodied.

Joan reached for the camera to turn it off, but stopped in contemplation mid-move. Then, to me, she said, “I love you Milton. Forever. And you are my greatest inspiration. I could never have lived all these years, doing all the good I've done, had you not given me the courage to do so.” She smiled again and I melted. “Stay safe. Love from everyone.”

The video blipped its end, and I was once again left alone in the post apocalyptic world. I took a deep breath to calm myself, before picking up the cables I left and started to rig the old Cryo-Tube.