I stir in my sleep, fighting off what I can only describe as the heaviest lethargic feeling I can remember. As I crack open my eyes, I realize that I'm sleeping on a cot in a large squadbay or warehouse. Where the hell am I?

Suddenly, my lethargy is forgotten as I take stock of my situation. I don't remember where I am, or where I was before falling asleep. More importantly, I don't really recall falling asleep at all. What the hell is going on?

My adrenaline is suddenly turning my heartrate up to eleven as I recognize that nothing about this situation feels right. As I feel my pulse pounding in my veins, I take a moment to appreciate that my fight or flight response has almost always resulted in an almost preturnatural calm. Right now, I feel the slow rise of panic from my inability to place myself in any reasonable location or situation... but calmly notice that there are others- many others- who do not possess the same adrenaline fueled calm as I. Who are they?

I'm laying on my side on a cot, in a room with many other cots. I'm covered with some kind of cloth, too rough to be a woobie, too soft to be a wooly. I can see at least seven more columns of cots ahead of me in three rows. The sounds behind me are a bit louder than those in front of me. There are several panicking people in front of me- male and female- all wearing identical clothing which looks like some form of adult onesie. A furtive reach under my cover allows me to verify that I have at least the same zipper along the side of my torso if not the same apparel as these people. Why does everyone seem to be panicking?

There's a man only three rows from me who is not waking up well. He sits bolt upright, throwing aside his cover. I belatedly notice that there are shoes and a parcel placed under his cot and have just enough time to wonder if I also have the same items before he escalates from frozen terror to outright hysteria. This is not good, it's going to spread like the clap.

I quickly slide out from under my cover without displacing it from my cot and quickstep over to my hyperventilating neighbor who seems to be but a breath or two from screaming incoherently with his entire lung volume. Hoping that I can head this off before we end up in an enclosed space with several dozen fearful people screaming and lashing out at one another, I ask for his name while looking him in the eye. Focus, buddy. Look at me, focus on what you know.

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"Porter" is all he responds while turning his focus towards me. I recognize that my calm is giving him a metaphorical harbor to reduce his fear, but his eyes are still incredibly dilated and the uncontrollable shivering gives away the chemical cocktail swirling through his body, not dissimilar in principle to my own despite our completely different reactions. "Hello, Porter. My name is Dean. My cot is right over here. Would you like to sit with me?" Simple sentences, no complex messages will be properly understood, yet. Build rapport, establish normalcy.

Porter latches onto the invitation and we quickly return to my cot and take a seat- not too close, but the interaction is clearly helping stall his fear response. Unfortunately, before we can continue talking Porter off the ledge, a blood curdling scream echoes through our open space from somewhere behind me and is soon answered by varying pitches as some of the other neighbors finally give in to their own fear response. I watch Porter jump in his own skin but remain anchored to the interaction with me. I do not react more than to glance quickly in the immediate vicinity, and my calm remains his port of safety. Stay with me now, Porter.

I don't know what will happen in the next minute. It is crucial that someone with authority- not just a position, but recognized authority- settles down this hysteria before it turns violent. I remember having been in a car accident with a beligerent driver who only calmed down when he saw a police officer arrive on scene. There will be no police officer in this situation, I'm sure of it. Who's in charge, here?

Suddenly, the sound of audio feedback pierces through the cacophony. The ringing stings my brain for a couple seconds after the tone finally stops. I'm surprised to see a door open at on end of our room and two people enter in completely different outfits than the rest of us. The general style is the same, but instead of a drab gray, their clothing is a vibrant yellow. More disconcertingly, their outfits include a full face mask. They stand shoulder to shoulder while one raises his wrist to his faceplate. "Welcome, everyone, to the opportunity of a lifetime. Put on your shoes, pick up your parcel and follow us for your initial briefing." What the hell... who the hell... what is going on here?

The two leave the room through the same door that they had entered from and the silence in the room is broken when I slap Porter's shoulder and begin to put on my shoes. Porter looks at me blankly until I suggest, "Well, Porter, your shoes and parcel are back at your cot, man. Let's get going." Although I am speaking to Porter directly, I notice that after I finish, everyone within a few rows of me has begun to follow the instructions. Thinking back on my life, I marvel at how most people just go with what everyone else is doing. After folding my cover into a neat square, I carry my parcel towards the open doors. Looking back, I see several people following me. I wonder if they'll all come along.