#7 (Dizzy Beacon) [https://i.imgur.com/wN4znrd.png]

She blinked awake. Her first impression was of an enormous, rushing, wheezing sound, so loud she could hardly believe she could have been unaware of it for any length of time. Her vision was hazy; she waited for it to clear, before realising it was obscured by a hazy blue translucent veil of some kind just inches from her face, flecked with ice. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could see faint dark outlines moving around.

She realised that she couldn't move. She could blink her eyes, and she felt, though couldn't see, that she was able to slightly twitch her toes, but the rest of her body was tightly bound.

Though it might surprise an external observer, she didn't find this particularly alarming.

The rushing sound halted for a moment, replaced by a short thunk, before resuming.

The veil in front of her started to move away, and she found her arms and legs were suddenly free. She stumbled forward, weaker than some part of her had expected. She made it a few steps before one of her legs gave way and she stumbled and fell. The pain concentrated in her hip, and she winced as the sharpness slowly built and receded.

"Hey, hey!" called a voice. "Here's another one!"

She looked around, and saw a woman rushing over to meet her.

"Oh!" the young woman said. "Excuse me, ma'am, are you hurt?" The woman – dark-haired, wispy and kindly – offered her a steadying hand, which she took, and wincing again pulled herself, with some help, to her feet. The woman made no move to pull away, and she felt extremely grateful for that, as the pain had not receded, and she felt a little dizzy. She reached instinctively to brush dust from her dress after her fall, but found she was wearing a blue jumpsuit, identical to that worn by the young woman who had helped her.

Looking up, she realised a few other people had joined them. There was a tall, light-haired man who looked to be in his mid-30s, who was already proffering a hand in greeting, apparently oblivious to her injury. By his side was another woman around his age, dark-skinned with short-cropped hair. Behind them stood a young man, barely more than a teenager, keeping his distance, though with a cheeky and curious grin on his face.

"Who… who are you?" she ground out. "Where are we?"

"Pleased to meet you," said the tall man, withdrawing his hand. "I'm afraid we, well, we don't know."

She looked up at him, not keeping the rush of panic from her face at all.

The dark-skinned woman spoke next. "Do you know anything? I mean, about who you are, or what this place is?"

"Of course, I…" but she trailed off. "No… I can't, I don't remember." She looked around. "What is this?"

The woman holding her up smiled at her kindly again. "It was the same for all of us. We came out of those pods–" she gestured with her free arm to the other cryo-stasis units "–and don't remember anything about who we are or where we came from."

"I was the first," asserted the tall man. "Since I woke up, a new pod has opened every half day or so." He gestured to the others.

She steadied herself, grabbing the shoulder of the woman supporting her to find slightly firmer footing, as the pain from her fall receded slightly.

"Please don't worry, ma'am," said the woman supporting her. "We're all in this together."

She nodded. "Why do you keep calling me ma'am?"

The woman blushed. "Oh, well, I don't know your name, and, well, forgive me, but…"

The boy standing apart from the others laughed. "You're old. She's trying not to be rude about it."

"Oh," she said. "I don't feel old." Though wincing again at the pain in her hip, perhaps she did. "What are your names?"

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"We don't know," said the tall man, slightly impatient at this point.

"Well, that's no good," she said. "We should know what to call each other. Especially if there's going to be more of us."

"You think we should just pick names for ourselves?" asked the dark-skinned woman.

"Why not?" she answered. "You can call me… Marie. That feels right."

The tall man scoffed at her, and Marie looked him up and down. "You can be Horace."

He looked indignant. "You're not calling me–"

But the boy cut him off with a laugh. "Shut up, Horace."

"Call me… Unatti," said the dark-skinned woman. "I think I like that name."

Marie turned to the boy, "You can be…"

But he raised his hand. "Give me a while to think about it."

She smiled at him. "Alright."

"Why don't you think of a name for me?" asked the woman holding Marie up.

Marie tested the weight on her weaker leg and found she could manage to bear herself on it. Pulling back from her, she looked her up and down. "How about Anna?"

"Anna," the woman said. "Alright, I like it."

Now standing more securely, Marie took a moment to take in her surroundings. The space they were in was vast, empty, grey, and uniform, each of which to an extremely unsettling extent. The floor, though, was lit with a pale light from underfoot that seemed to follow them round as they moved, casting light where they needed it to be, even if the angle made everyone look a little eerie. There were dozens of the pods scattered around. Each appeared to be upright and stable, though they were laid out haphazardly and with no consistent orientation. Examining one closely, wiping a layer of dust from the glassy veil, she saw the face of a young man, eerily still even for sleep, though peaceful.

"Do they all have someone in?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Horace. Unatti added, "There's no clear pattern, not age or sex or anything like that, though there aren't any children. And there doesn't seem to be a pattern to the order they're opening, either, though it may be too early to say."

Marie nodded, turning to Horace. "You've been out for around two-and-a-half days, you said?"

"Yes, that's right," Horace agreed.

"We can't be sure," interjected Unatti again, "as we don't have any way of telling time. But the lights have been dimming for a few hours, on what's felt so far like a daily cycle."

"You were second, then?" enquired Marie.

Unatti nodded. "That's right. Anna was third, he was fourth–" she indicated the as-yet-unnamed boy "–and you're fifth. That's all of us for now."

"In that case you must have found a source of water at least," said Marie.

Horace took the opportunity to take the lead again. "I did, and more, before anyone else woke up. Come over here." He gestured for her to follow. Anna offered her a hand, which she took.

Horace led them to the wall behind where the pods were arranged. "Hello Matt," he said.

An area of the back wall lit up in a smiling face, and began speaking in a benevolent, chipper voice.

"Hello!" the wall said. "I am a matter replicator. How may I help you?"

"I call it Matt," said Horace, proudly. "MATT-er replicator, you see?"

"You named the replicator before you named each other?" asked Marie, raising an eyebrow. She caught the boy's eye, who made a twirling gesture around his ear behind Horace's back.

"Marie would like a glass of water, please," said Horace.

"Of course," said Matt, charmingly. "I'd be only too happy to."

A small area of the floor lit up, like how it was lit beneath them and the pods. Matt's face changed, such that he appeared as though he was blowing out the candles on a birthday cake, and a small cloud of grey dust emerged from his lips. The cloud drifted down toward the lit area of floor, and coalesced slowly into a small glass of water.

"Cool, right?" said Horace, picking up the glass and proffering it to Marie, who took it and drank, realising as soon as the chilled water touched her lips how thirsty she was, and downed the whole thing immediately.

"Wow," said Marie. "Um, Matt," she said, feeling distinctly awkward addressing herself to a wall. "What else can you make?"

"I am programmed to manufacture basic supplies, some minerals and a sufficient food supply upon request. I can make anything you desire."

"Who programmed you?" interjected Unatti.

"I'm truly sorry guys, but I'm not programmed to tell you that."

Unatti persisted. "Why are you only programmed to provide basic supplies?"

"Oh, I'm not," said Matt, cheerfully again. "Sorry to mislead you! I'm not used to dealing with humans, but I promise I will learn. I can make anything you desire, but I am not programmed to do so upon request. For other things, I have been programmed to require an offering."

A chill went down Marie's back. "Offering…" she repeated. "What sort of offering?"