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PRELUDE
DAVID PILCHER
SUPERSTRUCTURE
WAYWARD PINES
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
He opens his eyes
Frigid
Shivering
Head throbbing
Soical mask, face a blur
He doesn’t knohere he is or, for that matter, who he is
A clear mask is lowered to his mouth
The voice—a wo in”
The gas he inhales is waren It flon his windpipe and hits his lungs with a welcoh herat him with her eyes
“Better?” she asks
He nods Her face grows sharper And her voiceSo familiar there Not the timbre itself, but the way he feels toward it Protective Almost paternal
“Does your head hurt?” she asks
He nods
“That’ll pass soon I know you’re feeling a lot of disorientation”
Nod
“That’s completely normal Do you knohere you are?”
Headshake
“Do you knoho you are?”
Headshake
“That’s okay too You’ve only had blood in your veins for thirty-five minutes It usually takes a couple of hours to find your bearings”
He stares up at the lights overhead: long fluorescents, far too bright
He opens his mouth
“Don’t try to talk yet Would you like ?”
Nod
“Your name is David Pilcher”
He thinks that piece of inforht The narasp—at the very least, like a star that belongs in his sky
“You’re not in a hospital You haven’t been in a car accident or suffered a heart attack Nothing like that”
He wants to say that he can’t move That he feels as cold as death and afraid
She continues “You’ve just coreen You’ve been sleeping for eighteen hundred years in one of a thousand suspension units, which you created We’re all so excited Your experih at a ninety-seven percent survival rate Better by a few points than you projected, and with no critical losses Congratulations”
Pilcher lies on the gurney, blinking at the lights
The heart ins to beep faster and faster, but it isn’t from fear or stress
It’s exhilaration
Within five seconds, it all clicks in
Who he is