The hiss of the chamber opening sounded like a dying breath.

Eli’s eyes blinked open, fog and ice clinging to his lashes. His lungs burned as he coughed, air tasting like copper and ozone. Bright lights too white, too clean stabbed at him.

Last he remembered, arms were around him his wife, his son. Then men in suits. Needles. Screaming. The promise of preservation. Of hope.

Now… nothing looked familiar.

The walls were glass and metal. The people, wrapped in sleek suits, stared at him like a relic. No faces he knew. No voices that comforted.

“What year is it?” His voice cracked, foreign in his own ears.

“2149,” someone answered, emotionless. “You’ve been asleep a long time, Mr. Raines.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

He stumbled from the pod, heart racing. Where were they? Did they survive?

Was he the only one left?

Eli sank to the floor, pressing a trembling hand to his chest, where memories pulsed louder than the machines around him.

They promised he’d live to see a better world.

But no one said he’d wake up alone.