I slightly shifted, adjusting my shoulders’ position. The pod responded immediately. With a soft chime, the fluid level began dropping.
While the tube was being drained, I had time to think. To really process how close I'd come to dying. The unbearable pain after recklessly pushing the ship to its limits. All from one stupid moment of… What? Ego? Carelessness? Just not thinking? I was no longer in a game. I needed to be careful. Things that were just gameplay annoyance could kill me. I'd been given a second chance at life in this world. I'm not going to waste it by dying stupidly in the first week, I promised myself.
Stepping out of the pod in the cool room, I found my clothes crumpled in a heap on the floor next to the pod. I picked up the shirt, half-expecting it to be damaged or cut away, but it was intact. The pod must have some kind of matter manipulation tech I didn't understand yet. Just another everyday miracle in this future I was still getting used to.
I quickly dressed and pulled up the diagnostics on the console, curious what 'fully healed' actually meant in this world.
The first line made me blink: Human (archaic).
Archaic? Excuse me?
I scrolled past it and moved to the actual health metrics.
Bone density: 87% of optimal.Muscle mass: 76% of optimal.Neural conductivity: 92% of optimal.
I frowned. Those numbers weren't great. Not terrible, but definitely below what 'optimal' implied.
Abnormal radiation detected. Unknown energy. Further diagnosis required.
Oh, that's not ominous at all.
I kept scrolling, and my stomach dropped.
Recent injuries (RESOLVED):
- Multiple broken bones (ribcage, fingers)
- Extensive bruising (89% of muscles)
- Multiple organ compressions
- Epidural hematoma
- Hairline fractures to the skull
I stared at the list, my mouth dry. Holy shit. I'd known it was bad, but seeing it written out like that made it real in a way the pain hadn't. An epidural hematoma. Skull fractures. Any one of those could have killed me.
And the pod had just... fixed it. All of it. In what, a few hours?
I pulled more files and checked. I'd spent three days floating in medical goo. Less impressive than a few hours, maybe, but still—three days to fix a crushed ribcage and skull fractures? This world had serious medical game.
But first things first. I jabbed the word 'archaic' harder than necessary.
Baseline human genetic makeup detected. No post-FTL genetic mutation. No trace of Khund DNA.
I stared at the screen. So I'm a museum piece. Great. Just great. Apparently everyone in this future was some kind of post-human, and here I was, the obsolete version.
I flexed my hands experimentally, rolled my shoulders. Everything felt fine—better than fine, actually. But 76% muscle mass? 87% bone density? Those were concerning numbers for someone who might need to, say, not fall off catwalks in the future.
I was a bit worried about the Neural conductivity assessment, but more optimistic about the rest. With a healthy diet and some exercise, I could fix the bones and muscles issue.
I went through several menus, but could not get more information from the diagnosis panel. My holobracer was more helpful. Its auto-doc app synced with the medical pod automatically and generated a thirty-day recovery plan: diet, exercise, the works. It even pinged the food synthesizer in the foyer and asked if I wanted to upload nutritional parameters.
Well, if you're offering...
I left the medical bay and headed to the foyer, each step echoing through the empty corridors. The view was still beautiful. Floating in space, the slow ballet of asteroids above, and, in the background, the mesmerizing gas giant. But I did not linger this time. Halfway there, I realized: When did I last eat? The thought triggered immediate, ravenous hunger. I haven't eaten since I got here. Three days in the pod, plus however long before that. My pace quickened
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God, I haven't eaten since I got here. The realization made my stomach clench with anticipation. In Life Among the Stars, the food synthesizers had been incredible. When the devs added full sensory feedback, half the guild became obsessed with collecting recipes. We'd spend hours after raids just eating virtual food.
I grinned despite myself. Please let it be as good as I remember.
The ChefPro MP15 dominated one side of the kitchen. Our guild in Life Among the Stars had been made up of beta testers and hardcore players with more credits than sense. Every piece of gear we'd owned had been either the most expensive on the market or the highest-quality craftable. The food synthesizer was no exception.
It was white and chrome, all flowing curves on the control face that gave way to sharp, precise angles on the sides. The kind of design that screamed 'expensive' in any era. The interface panel glowed with a soft blue light, and the main dispensing door was large enough to handle several plates.
The kitchen had everything needed to cook. A proper stove, multiple sinks, a cooking hub… But I never used any of it. I was no cook myself. On Earth, I could mostly cook noodles with tomato sauce. But if I wanted something fancier, I ordered, which did not happen often. For all my virtual financial ease, I was on the poorer side in real life. Besides, why would I cook here, when the synthesizer could make anything in minutes?
I brought the interface and started the meal selection. There were hundreds of choices. Thousands even. But after browsing for several minutes, I found a dish called “Altarian Bird Stew” that looked exactly like a Cassoulet.
My mouth watered. I immediately selected the item.
Of course, it was not so simple. The machine was empty and I needed to put in some food cartridges.
I found them in the cupboards. The cartridges had bright manufacturer logos and cheerful cartoon mascots. A grinning blob appeared on a 'Synthetic Protein' box. The 'Digestible Fiber Complex' had green sticks dancing the cancan. The contrast with the actual ingredient names was surreal: Nutrient Compound B15, Synthmeat?, Nutritive Supplement K76b, Recycled Flavoring.
Recycled. I didn't want to think too hard about that one.
The machine hummed to life, a pleasant vibration I could feel through the counter. Progress bars tracked the synthesis process on the holo-display: protein assembly, flavor matrix integration, thermal processing. I stood there, eagerly surveying the slowly filling bars.
Three minutes. That was all it took to build a meal from raw molecules. The completion chime made me jump.
I opened the main door and was rewarded with a steaming bowl of Cassoulet. The rich aroma hit me immediately. It was savory, complex, with that distinctive duck-fat smell. Memories surfaced: fancy Cassoulet in a restaurant. Hearty cassoulet with friends in a small apartment. It was comfort food at its best.
But it looked… weird. If I was colorblind, it would have been perfect, but the beans were blue, the sausage was the color of spinach and the duck leg looked bent at the wrong angle, with an unfamiliar shape.
I gulped, filled my spoon and closed my eyes as I put the food in my mouth.
I was immediately rewarded by an explosion of savor. Rich duck fat. Smooth and thick juices with an aftertaste of tomato. Warm spices with a hind of garlic. The beans were melting in my mouth. I immediately went for the sausage. Juices filled my mouth. It might have looked like greens, but it definitely tasted like a fat pork sausage, perfectly cooked that had simmered for hours and taken so much flavour. The duck leg (or whatever bird it was supposed to be), was also fantastic.
I couldn't stop. The plate was empty before I realized I'd barely chewed half of it. The lingering taste in my mouth made me crave more.
I hurried back to the ChefPro and ordered another serving without hesitation.
This is soooo good. I think I’m going to love it here.
While waiting for the second bowl, I gazed up. Not looking at anything in particular, and spoke aloud: “Guys, wherever you are... you're missing out.” My voice echoed in the empty kitchen. “This is amazing.”
I finished the second bowl more slowly, savoring each bite. When I finally set down the spoon, I was full. The kind of full that makes you want to nap. I leaned back in my chair, contended. I had planned to explore the rest of the station, but my legs refused to move and my eyelids felt heavy.
My head started to drop forward. With a heavy sigh, I stood up and made my way toward the exit.
The station isn't going anywhere. Neither am I. I have food, power, and life support. I can do all that tomorrow. There is no hurry. Actually, I should take it slow and enjoy my stay here.
Once I reached the bedroom, I stripped off my clothes. The shower was actual water. Part of me had been hoping for some sci-fi sonic shower thing, but honestly? Hot water was perfect. I stood under it longer than necessary, just enjoying the feeling of being clean.
Reluctantly, I left the comfort of the shower, pulled on some incredibly soft pajamas, then made my way to the bed.
For the first time, I could actually appreciate sleeping on an anti-grav bed. It did not disappoint. It was like the perfect cradle. Comfortable to the extreme. No pressure points, no awkward angles. The temperature adjusted automatically, keeping me in that perfect zone between warm and cool.
This is heaven.
Tomorrow, I thought as sleep pulled me under. Tomorrow I'll explore the rest of the station. Start that exercise regimen. Figure out what I really want to do, where I want to go.
Tomorrow I'll start becoming someone who can thrive in this world.