EVERETT PRACHTER
A pact, forged in chaos. A memory, isolated in spirit.
As the young man discovered lead limbs and droopy eyelids, heavy as a midday nap. Coming to life again was a difficult task, a limbo between that dormancy which used to dominate and the activity which now came to fruition. The old world was long and lost by the time he chose to wake, and he felt the need to build new bearings from its ashes. So, he spun a thread of new knowledge from the ruins of his mind — the name, fashioned for him; the memory, filled with awe; the date, renewed by birth. In this, his name, Everett Prachter, came from the void, and Everett, born on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, remembered the pact of days gone by. The covenant which the voice implored Everett to fulfill now drew him to a state of awareness. The flow of life had resumed with an awful chill in his spine, and Everett sat upright without hurry in his cradle.
The 18-year-old eyed a fair-skinned, willowy girl while she had paced gently, oh, curiously across the dim chamber. He carefully stepped from his cradle, with which his hands could interface like an unused but unforgotten skill. And his aching muscles piloted a functioning body once more, and he took his time to silently make his way to the girl as he overcame the pains of ages of slumber. At the same moment, Everett's dark eyes traced the corners of the room, and he saw the other containment devices, with the now warm bodies inside. Others were awakening in their capsules just as Everett and the girl had. A clap to the hard floor spooked Everett. He jumped, his eyes darting to a fast movement in the chamber. Another girl had fallen, disoriented, from a capsule in the room. The realization slowed his breathing to normal again.
"Are you quite alright?" he asked the dazed one with concern in his voice. Everett then glanced at other girl, who seemed better aligned at the moment, and he stood more upright. "It seems we are awake now."
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