"Welcome back, everyone! How did you sleep? Do you feel refreshed?" The words echoed softly in the dim chamber, stirring echoes of dreams within him.
Zach's mind slowly registered the greeting. He flickered open his eyes before shutting them again—the light was a searing blaze he wasn't yet ready to face.
Then, a subtle pain radiated from his left arm—a jolt of energy igniting a cascade of neural sparks in his brain.
When he dared open his eyes once more, the harsh brightness had vanished, replaced by enveloping darkness. As his vision cleared, he saw countless figures struggling to rise from their pods.
At that moment, a torrent of memories flooded him. His name was Zach Galior, a field officer in the Intelligence Department of Ola Corp. During the first phase of his mission, he had been tasked with gathering vital intelligence—simply referred to as "5"—for the army.
Yet no matter how deeply he delved into his recollections, he could find nothing more about the first phase, save for one baffling detail: it had occurred a millennium ago.
Thud!
Hiss!
The restraints around him slackened, and his feet slammed against the floor. Though he'd been barely a few centimeters above the ground, the impact felt as if he had fallen from a 30-foot tower.
Gazing downward, he noticed his feet trembling, barely capable of supporting his weight. And then the truth struck him.
A thousand years ago, nearly every man had been placed in cryo pods to halt the spread of the "red mist." Now that he had awakened, his body was unprepared to bear the sudden burden of supporting itself after a millennium of dormancy.
Ugh!
The straps loosened further, forcing his feet to strain even more. An idea sparked in his mind—perhaps this gradual release was meant to ease him back into motion.
Bit by bit, the restraints fell away, each release sending waves of pain through his feet until, slowly, the agony became bearable. Six minutes later, the pain had all but vanished.
After enduring thirty minutes of relentless suffering, Zach finally stood unaided as the straps fully retracted into the pod.
Weary, he surveyed his surroundings. He was among the first to rise on his own. Gradually, dim lights began to brighten the lab, their glow intensifying every three minutes until the space transformed before his eyes.
He observed more people managing to stand—some even attempting to walk, only to stumble miserably—while others clung desperately to their pods as if the simple act of supporting themselves were an insurmountable challenge.
Tap!
He turned to see a curved line extending from his pod. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out. Though his arms remained stiff, he managed to secure a firm grip on the cable.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Each step was a battle. Even though the pain was now more tolerable than the agony of standing unaided, falling repeatedly only worsened the stiffness in his arms.
***
Hah! Hah! Hah!
Kneeling, gasping for breath, Zach realized that simply walking—with limbs that felt forged of stone—demanded a monumental effort.
Thirty minutes had passed since he first attempted to walk. Now, his eyes were fully adjusted, revealing every detail of his surroundings. He noticed that everyone emerging from the pods was an adult, and he couldn't help but wonder where the children had been sent during the end of the "pulang langit."
'I think someone mentioned that the kids were placed east of the tower—about 100 km from here,' he recalled.
"Yes!"
Startled, he turned to see a man striding confidently as the pods shifted aside to clear his path.
"Hahaha! After one torturous hour, I can finally walk!" the man exclaimed, his face alive with unbridled joy.
'Huh. I never imagined that walking could be such an achievement for a grown man,' Zach mused silently as he rose again, resuming his practice for another thirty arduous minutes.
Thud!
Six doors, beneath a vast screen at the front, slid open in unison—each revealing a hall numbered from right to left.
"ONE PERSON WILL ENTER ONE HALL EACH," the screen announced. All around the lab, people exchanged glances, each silently guessing who would be chosen first.
Zach watched as a few men at the front nodded to each other before stepping into halls numbered 1 through 4. Their early initiative made perfect sense.
'Hey, Oliver is here!'.
Every entrant bore the same "O" emblazoned on their back as they disappeared into the halls. Nothing extraordinary occurred, only the quiet determination of those who had taken the first step.
Slowly, the survivors began forming rows. Zach found himself in the second-to-last row, and by the sheer number of people, he knew that waiting his turn might take hours.
"I should have just stepped up with Oliver and the others instead of waiting here," he sighed, resigning himself to his fate.
After what felt like an eternity—roughly one hour—his row was finally called.
Unlike the other halls, each door revealed a unique environment; some were stark and plain, others breathtakingly beautiful. Fate, it seemed, had chosen a sci-fi hall for him, the door marked with the number "3."
Inside, the murmur of countless voices echoed throughout the hall, drowning out every other sound.
"HELLO, EVERYONE! IT SEEMS THAT EVERYONE IS ALREADY INSIDE THE HALLS," a voice boomed, pausing for dramatic effect before continuing. "THEN LET'S GET STARTED!"
The once-distant voice now filled the space as the lights and holographics faded away, leaving only a few beams directed at a large screen on the stage. There, a massive "O" intertwined with intricate machinery dominated the display.
It was the Ola Corp logo.