>>6296384>>6296626>>6296630>>6296783Washington/Baltimore were tied by the end of the deadline, decided to give it some extra time. Next time I'll be quicker on the draw about flash/emergency votes.>Norfolk.The pod lurches as propulsion units cough themselves awake, a low hum that swells into a guttural mechanical thrum that reverberates through its frame. You brace against one of the crash couches as it shudders, then steadies, plodding through the churning surf that reflects a burning sky. A flicker of green on the display confirms the heading:
<span class="mu-s">Norfolk, Virginia.</span>
The decision was made long before you ever opened your eyes. You don’t have any obvious reason to fight it now.
<span class="mu-i">Projected ETA: 7-8 hours. Surface position: roughly 100 km off the coast of Virginia. Hull integrity nominal. Radioisotope Thermonuclear Generator: stable output.</span>
You squint at the inferno on the horizon – a city perched on collapsing pillars and struts like an oil platform. The burning skeletons of launch gantries clawing upwards like grasping hands into the smoke.
<span class="mu-i">Artificial megastructures. Staging points for atmospheric shuttles. Orbital support: severely compromised. Environmental status: high hazard and toxicity. Lethal to unprotected humans.</span>
The adrenaline bleeds out of you, leaving a dead weight in its absence. You close the hatch just as your limbs leaden, muscles trembling from over-exhaustion. The locker resists, then pops open; clumsy fingers pull antiseptic wipes across your body to ease the tacky sheen of sweat, blood and bile. It stings in certain areas, aches as you go over muscles still “thawing” out from the pod, but the ritual steadies you.
You tear open a ration brick. The chewy texture of hyper-processed onions crumbles between your teeth without flavor or smell.
<span class="mu-i">Deliberate design. No taste profile, no aroma. Engineered for consumption without desire to hoard or overeat. Prioritizes nutritional input only.</span>
It fills the hollow in your stomach, if not the one in your chest.
Finally, the foil of a thermal blanket crinkles over your shoulders, its sterile heat an alien sort of comfort. For the first time since waking, you are still.
But stillness brings a tremor with it, the kind that seeps in beneath your skin to settle deep within your bones. All the worse with how soft, insistent, and inescapable the sensation is. Your eyelids are heavy, as if someone else is closing them for you.
…you don’t want to sleep.
Every nerve in your body still screams at you to stay awake. Sleep feels like surrender, like surrendering back into the comforting gel bed of the cryopod. But your exhaustion is merciless, and your body wins the argument.
You drift…
…and <span class="mu-i">fracture</span>.
(cont.)
