Chapter Text
"eye movement detected."
you managed to pry your eyes open and immediately get blinded by a too-bright light that felt like it burned down your retinas or may have caused some permanent vision-related problem.
am i in heaven?
you blink a couple times, trying to ease the stinging pain. maybe you were blind. you couldn’t tell. whenever you closed your eyes, you could still see the remnants of the brightness that blinded you as circles and other sort of shape that made your head hurt.
"what is two plus two?"
the voice says again; a computer? or that’s what you think anyway. it sounded like a feminine voice—monotonous, with no emotion. you open your eyes again, now finally less sensitive to the light and look around the room. you felt tubes stuck in all sorts of places, ones you didn’t even want to think about. and you were also, incredibly tired. it felt like you were almost numb, almost. you could still feel things. you were laying in a bed and sort of wrapped in something?
you intuitively felt like you were awoken from a deep, peaceful slumber. but now you’re awake, barely, and vaguely aware of your surroundings. right now, it feels like you're in an oven. no, more like plastic bag. a garbage bag?
you try to move your limbs to no avail. that doesn’t seem right. you try to move them again to have them just freeze up again.
uh oh.
your breathing goes heavy. all of a sudden, you’re hyper aware of the plastic mixed with sweat clinging on to your skin, and the tightness of it makes you feel claustrophobic. the blinding lights, and unsureness of where you were made you panic.
“what is two plus two?” the voice says again.
you pass out.
—
"for your homework, i assigned you to read the tell-tale heart by edgar allan poe,"
you brace for impact,
your students groan,
you wince.
what makes it so hard for students to just read a brief 10-page story for class? hell, even at least try to pretend to be a little bit interested about english literature for even just a few minutes.
the exaggerated groans only grow louder, and you roll your eyes playfully.
“in the first paragraph,” you continue regardless. “the narrator asks, 'but why will you say that i am mad?' what evidence from the text suggests that— “ a knock from the door interrupts you.
it was ryland. some students already started giggling and snickering, lips curving from ear-to-ear. any sort of contact between the both of you always had their best interest compared to any other subject in this school.
you looked at him through the glass in your door as he points to his watch. meeting, he mouths.
“well, um, just stay still for the mean time and do whatever homework it is that you have for your next period until the bell rings.” you say to your students.
you look at back at ryland and just nod, pointing to your table.
“i’ll just get my stuff,” you mouth.
he gives you a smile, a thumbs up, and leans onto the doorframe from outside.
this interaction only made the giggle situation even louder. you look towards you students and place your finger on your lip, trying to quiet them down, but when has that ever worked?
“mr. grace really seems to like you, miss.”
you huff and continue dumping things inside your bag, ignoring the comment.
“i think you’d make a cute couple.” another voice arises from the back.
“they’re married, dummy.” the classroom explodes with laughter. you wanted to laugh too, but had to set a good example and authority as their teacher.
“alex, language.” you say one last time before leaving the room filled with a bunch of immature 12-year olds to see ryland waiting for you outside. you could tell he heard the silly thing because of that cheeky smile he had on.
“they’re right,” he says as you walk through the hallways, placing a quick peck on the top of your head.
“we do make a cute couple,” you furrow your brows at whatever that was. but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it funny, cute even.
—
you wake up; still wrapped, still sweaty. you try to move your body again, but now only focusing on your fingers to no avail. having no control over your body parts was such a foreign feeling. that scared the shit out of you.
"eye movement detected." the voice chimes out again. not from a human, you guessed. it still seemed too monotonous and robotic for it to be one. maybe it was a robot.
oh god.
"what is two plus two?"
"ffffrrrr!" that can't be good. was that sound coming from you? you couldn't quite tell.
"incorrect. what is two plus two?"
"foooooooohhr!" you give it your all might into that one syllable word you can’t seem to pronounce all of a sudden. in fact, you found it hard to talk at all. every breath felt so, dry. and when you tried to swallow, it stung.
“correct.”
the bag unzips. now free, you shift around a little, you could feel things now, and even move your fingers after a few tries. you scan around the room for the second time. it looked like a hospital, a fancy one at that. were you in a coma? if so, was the wrapped-up situation really necessary?
you moved your head to the left and see an empty bed. oh. you moved again, to the right side now, and get a clear view of the rest of the room. you see two other beds with what seems like people laying down, wrapped in a bag, just like you were earlier.
oh good.
"body movement detected. what is the square root of sixteen?" the monotonous voice asks again. you sigh. you were getting pretty tired of these questions, and you yourself had so much you wanted answers to. you were also incredibly tired. but you were far too curious to know where you were, how you got here, and where the hell the other awake people were to try and fall back asleep.
you turn your head to the center and see robotic arms reaching towards you. you panic and tried to get out a scream, only to hear a wheeze of some sort.
"whr th hll m i?" you mumble.
"incorrect. what is the square root of sixteen?" it asks again.
"whe-" you took a breath and tried again. "whr the hel 'm i?" better! not sounding very good, but speaking has progressed.
"incorrect. what is the square root of sixteen?" you roll your eyes.
"foooour!" you answer again, easier this time.
"correct. please remain still."
"wait, wht?" you felt a shrill of panic wash over you as the robotic arms reach towards your body. they removed the tubes, not all of them, however you felt a tiny bit comfortable now.
"where 'm i?" you asked once more, not so fogged up now, and fully conscious of wherever you were. you've also regained control of your torso, and you tried to roll over to only fall, which made you feel winded, knocking your head along the way. “ow-“
your vision turns black.
—
“can anybody give me the answer to question three: what is the difference between an independent and a dependent clause? anyone?” you flail your black marker around, looking for a student who could volunteer.
“first one to raise their hand gets a treat!”
abby raised her hand. finally.
“okay, abby. please stand up,”
“but you said the first one to raise their hand gets the treat?” you sigh. outsmarted by a 12-year old: just a regular day.
“okay, but I need the answer to the question please.” you tried to divert their attention back to the lesson. a student raises their hand.
“miss, I have a question.”
“yes?”
“what’s happening to the sun?” the whole class suddenly had their eyes on you, now more attentive.
“uh huh, this is an english class, not science.”
“but you have a phd in chemistry, right?” a student says. you see some nodding, the rest of them asking what a phd was.
that was true, you did. that was also the reason why you met ryland. you were studying in the same university. ever wonder how a doctorate in chemistry gets you a job as a middle school teacher in english literature? go ahead and call the dean of the first university you've worked for an 'incompetent prick' and see where that gets you.
a job in a middle school teaching a subject you were misaligned with but overqualified to do. but whatever. you've always had a passion for literature anyway; sneaking into some classes while juggling a doctorate in chemistry on the other hand. wasn’t at all bad. the bridging was quite difficult, but you made it through.
"is it true that they're eating the sun?" a student asks.
"well, we can't tell if they're eating it but—"
"my mom says it's a government conspiracy and they’re trying and distract us."
"oh anyway, you should ask your parents about that. not sure it should come from me, you know." you say, heading back to the whiteboard to presume the class.
"but you're our teacher," the noise only continued to grow louder.
you sigh.
"there's so many articles popping about this stuff. and we're not so sure what these are so i can't really give you guys correct information as of the moment, right?" they frown. a good way to distract them from the topic anyway. they were also way too young to be worrying about the possible extinction of humankind and all other species on earth.
"they say the sun's gonna cool down and we're gonna freeze to death and all go extinct," shane, a smarter one adds up.
the students gasp in horror, leaning to their seatmates asking if it was true and having all sorts of questions.
"guys, guys calm down! i'm sure every brilliant mind in the world is working on it. they're gonna-" the ring bells and in a blink of an eye, the ever so worried and panicking students you were facing were fleeing the classroom in an instant.
“tsk,”
—
you wake up, still on the floor. you stay there to feel your body for a bit, also because you weren’t quite sure if you could get back up again, but you could tell that you were much better than when you first woke up.
first agenda was going to be looking for awake people in this room, and to do that you were going to have to learn how to walk.
you crawl and roll for a few minutes, bumping onto the walls and all sorts of things, before getting a hold of your limbs again. something feels off about it; there's a certain wrongness into it. it felt like being on a boat minus the aggressive rocking part, but the ground doesn’t feel as solid. huh. but maybe you were still groggy to a certain extent.
you walk towards the beds of your roomates and see two gray, mummified bodies. you back up to the wall, horrified. you wanted to throw up. there seemed to be no signs of decaying or anything like that, but the sight upset you so much you wanted to puke.
are they dead?
you knew better than to want to have someone to answer that question. you roam around, tears start to blur your vision and you don't know why. you felt that you had a connection to these people, like they were your friends. you just simply couldn’t remember their name. now that you thought about it, you couldn't even remember your own name. you were emotional and confused now more than ever.
after scurrying the room, looking for more things that could answer your questions, you stumbled into a storage room. only about a meter tall, but it looked like it had something that might help you. you were still naked afterall.
even so, you were still wondering where the people were. there are two mummified corpses in this room that looked like they hadn’t been moved by anyone, making you wonder if it was done on purpose or if there was any people to do the job at all.
rummaging here and there, you eventually found what looked like bags that contained personal belongings. four of them. a good sign. you were the third person in this room, as well as the other two mummified friends you had. and so the fourth one must be here somewhere.
you see the lables in each bag, one written in chinese, russian, and the other two in english. you took the english labled bags that read "grace". your name must be grace. but why two bags? weird. maybe there wasn't a fourth person afterall? you thought maybe you just had more stuff than they did. but you remembered the bed.
that only confused you more.
you opened the first bag named grace that you got a hold on and found a yellow jumpsuit with your name on it but also had the logo of NASA?
that can't be right. you weren't an astronaut. you were… you couldn't even remember.
okay, then maybe you were. why would your uniform be in here, though? does that mean you were in space? that's ridiculous.
but oh. that explained the wrongness you felt: the gravity. you shake your head to shake the thought off. ever since you’ve woken up you felt so out of place, so bewildered. why where you naked, why are there bodies of dead people, where the hell were the people? whatever it was and wherever it was that you were, you decided you only wanted an answer to when you got dressed properly.
you hurriedly put on the yellow jumper without much thought. it was quite big but you didn't mind.
a few minutes of mindless exploring, you wandered off into some kind of lab. what kind of hospital made a lab above the patient room? but it was heavily equipped. almost every equipment you could think of was in here: test tubes, pipettes, microscope, even a scanning electron microscope. wait.
"how do i know all these things?" you wanted to cry.
just then, you spot a figure facing away, just a few feet from you. you walk towards it.
—
"hey, jonas, no running down the hall." you say as you pass, walking towards a specific classroom to see a specific teacher.
you open the door expecting somebody for there to be nobody. he must have left early, or had a meeting, you assumed. you took out your phone and typed in something quick before putting it back.
[3:48 pm] you: hey, will be waiting for you here in your room. head's hurting, kinda.
you walk towards his table in the middle of the room, putting your bag on top and sitting down. Then, quickly leaning onto the table to rest your head.
a few minutes in and you swore you could have fallen asleep when the doors opened. you raise your head hoping to see ryland when a lady dressed in black comes in.
"y/n grace?" the woman says with quite an accent. dutch? maybe.
"yes? how may i help you?" you stand up out of courtesy.
"my name is eva stratt. i’m with the petrova taskforce.”
"pardon?"
"the petrova taskforce—"
"yes, sorry, i heard you the first time. petrova as in,"
"as in the infared light extending from the sun to venus, yes. i need your help." you blink. you were quite surprised a person like her would come to you, come here, in grover cleveland middle school, to ask for your help in an international problem you were sure many more qualified scientists were begging to help with.
"me?" you ask, pointing to yourself, even laughing a little, still not quite comprehending the weight of the situation.
"yes, dr. y/n l/n. we need your help. we want you to analyze the dots for us." you smiled at the use of your maiden name—the name on your doctorate, the one that had been so badly stained just a couple of years ago. you had stood your ground on a principle that earned you a reputation so toxic you chose to leave academia entirely. it was simply easier than trying to scrub the name clean.
“sorry, i tought the arclight probe wasn’t returning until..?”
“yes, it returns on the 23rd and we want you to be the first ones to take a look at it.” you wasn’t sure if it was the head ache, but everything coming from the mouth of this lady sounded like a lie, just so ridiculous it didn’t seem true.
"i don't think i should be the one you should be asking."
you quickly grab your bag and walk to the door, trying to get out before the situation get out of hand and get dirty, as what had happened before.
your head still shot sharp pain and you wanted to go home now, to still no sight of ryland.
you impatiently looked out on the sidewalk and pull out your phone to be met with black suvs and stratt behind you. gosh, this woman was so persistent.
"look, i'm sure there are so many people that you can ask that are way more qualified. not me!" she just looks at you seriously, not seeming to budge.
men in suits get out of the vehicle and stand beside the doors now. you felt intimidated, like they were going to just manhandle you into going with them, but you don't back down.
"and, and my head feels like it's gonna explode if i don't get home now, and i can't even find my husband—"
"that won't be a problem." stratt says.
one man opens the door to the suv beside you and you see a ryland, sitting inside, like an obedient child.
"hi honey."
—
"hello?" you say to the figure. it turns around and you see a man, a big man, with a very long beard and long, golden strangled hair, wearing the same jumpsuit that cut just a few inches below his knee. he looked quite familiar, but you couldn’t point out why. but you were certain you knew this man.
still, you shriek.
"oh, no, no, no! i'm sorry!" he says and walks towards you. he looked rough. you guessed he might just have woken up just like you did and just was not groomed properly or dressed properly for that matter. well, who were you to judge when you were swimming in your big jumpers aswell?
"you're awake!" he hugs you. it felt familiar. so familiar.
"i was really scared, i thought i'd be left alone for the rest of the mission." mission?
"what?" you ask. you brain just turning into a big pile of mush as you go around and your questions get left unanswered.
"what's your name? i'm grace. or that's what my jumper says anyway. this thing is so small, you know?" grace? that was also your name, you thought. but he couldn't see that on your jumper. the poor guy was just too excited to be having somebody to talk to.
"i thought you'd wake up sooner or later. i got a look at our other crew mates and they were in bad shape."
"crew mates?"
"yes. and oh, we're in space."