I opened my eyes with a guttural cry of unbearable pain that pierced every cell of my body. The same darkness was all around me, but now I could feel that I was lying on something absolutely icy.
In the process of waking up, I lurched and fell from somewhere, but thank God, I managed to throw my hands out in front of me. Otherwise, I would have smashed my face against... against something hard. And just as icy, freezing everything—palms, feet, torso, backside...
Springing to my feet, I hugged myself with my arms, trying to get at least a little warm and understand what was even happening. My hand habitually brushed over an old scar on my forearm... Wait a minute!
"Well then," I muttered, feeling the mark of a wound from the distant past. "Is this how it's supposed to be?"
It seemed the Voice had no intention of answering me. Or helping. Fine, I agreed to this myself; there's no use relying on others.
Truth be told, right now I really wanted to understand exactly what I had signed up for. I hoped it wasn't naked strolls across cold, vast expanses. On the other hand, if the Voice fulfilled its part of the deal... does it even matter?
Pitch darkness reigned all around, through which absolutely nothing could be seen—it was black as a pocket.
And silence. Not a rustle, not a creak, not a breath of wind.
But there was also the cold. Savage, brutal cold. It was felt by every cell of the body—my teeth reacted particularly characteristically, finding it very difficult to even touch each other. The sensation was as if I had ended up in a giant freezer—and the steam escaping from my mouth with every exhale only completed the picture.
Standing in one place without moving was pointless. That's an easy way to get sick. And given the ambiguity of the situation, the idea of catching a cold in the middle of nowhere was not the most pleasant.
"Hello!" I felt something elongated and metallic in front of me with my hands. It seemed to be a table. I'm willing to bet that this is exactly where I fell from. "Anyone there?"
My eyes were gradually adjusting to the new sensations, and the contours of the objects surrounding me began to emerge in the darkness. On one hand, my heart felt lighter when I realized I wasn't in an open field with a bare ass... But on the other... I don't particularly like cold, dark rooms.
From what I could see, this was definitely a small room with rather high ceilings. Several pieces of furniture were scattered across the floor. And not a single hint of lighting. Or of the one who could have brought me here. However, he hadn't promised anything. Neither help nor advice... only that I would end up in a familiar place.
And a heap of problems on top of that.
Life had hit me in all sorts of ways, but I couldn't recall such places in my past. Nor did I remember ever being in such good physical shape. Probably not since my youth and sports clubs. Later... there just wasn't time for it.
"Fucking jokes," the cursing, it seemed, gave me strength.
What is that eternal Russian question? "What is to be done?" And I would like to know as well. But let's add the questions "Where am I?" and "What's going on?" They could have at least given some kind of briefing, instead of throwing me straight into the ice hole in the hope that I'd swim out.
Or is this some kind of twisted sense of humor from those cotton-like entities?
Alright, Mikha, let's not wake trouble while it's quiet. But nothing is visible... Nothing at all can be seen.
So, how do blind people walk? Slowly, step by step, step by step—ooh, my mandolin, it's cold! Better not freeze my little bird, because a snotty little bird in a dark room is its own kind of pleasure.
Alright, let's hope that everything went according to plan. And I don't want to think about whose plan exactly.
From memory, I began to perform sets of exercises to loosen my muscles and somehow get warm. However, this led to consequences that were not at all what I expected.
No, it got warmer. And brighter.
The pitch darkness began to gradually dissipate. The reason for this was numerous lamps scattered in the corners of the room. Resembling, somewhat, vertical pillars with a thickening in the middle, they had many glass bulbs arranged in a row one above the other.
Hmm, something familiar.
Just like the walls of a uniform rusty color, with geometric figures over the paint. The elements of swamp-green paint also evoked a sense of déjà vu. Something was spinning in my memory... It was like you know a word but can't remember how it's pronounced...
The ceiling and the walls—they seemed to radiate light from dozens of lighting fixtures of the most diverse forms. As if sparing my eyes, the sunny-yellow light was in no hurry to fill the entire room all at once. Instead, its intensity increased with every second.
For a moment, I had to squint to allow my pupils to adjust to the change in lighting. Covering my face with my palms, I stood in the cold, trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind. And only after I realized that the light was penetrating even through my closed eyelids and fingers, did I slowly open them, looking around.
"This is already something new," I muttered, looking around. The temperature in the room had noticeably increased—despite the fact that it was still cold here, I felt that the light was warming my body. Like sunbeams on a clear summer day. It seems the local builders aren't very familiar with energy-saving lamp technology...
It became light enough to look around and examine every detail. It might still be cold, but I have no one to justify myself to... I'm seemingly alone here, in principle.
If you don't count a pair of oval panels, whose pedestals, with the stern brushstrokes of a perfectionist, reminded one of the laws of geometry. The backlighting of the indicators on the panels, executed in a lifeless white light, flooded the control instruments unfamiliar to me. Glass, plastic buttons, tiny regulators, more glass... hmm... things...
"Oh, I really don't like all of this," I grumbled, no longer doubting what was happening.
No need to rub my eyes or pinch my arm—this environment is well known to me. It seems I misunderstood the Voice. Yes, he sent me to a known place. Но в прошлой жизни лично я тут никогда не был.
I had only watched something like this from a television screen or a laptop, viewing an old (has it already been twenty years since the last episode was released?!) series about another adventure of Americans in the vast Universe in the name of all that is good against all that is evil.
After thinking for a couple of seconds, I slapped myself across the cheek with my palm. It hurt. Not sleeping, then.
"A fine party we had, and we marveled," I muttered. "Sobered up—now we weep. There was no mermaid, but I'm ashamed in front of the catfish... Damn it."
I was standing in the middle of an Ancient laboratory—the characteristic geometric pattern of the interior, the familiar control panels. Even the pattern on the floor—all of this pointed to only one place where I could be.
Atlantis. No, that's nonsense! Delirium!
"I hope that this is a very, very bad dream," I muttered, stepping closer to one of the panels. A multitude of buttons, touchscreens, regulators, miniature switches... "Fine, I'll settle for some potent deathbed hallucinations."
There was still the possibility that it was cold here because this wasn't the lost city of the Ancients in the Pegasus galaxy, but an outpost of that same race, but on Mother Earth, in Antarctica... Such a version would explain the cold. And the series didn't describe in detail what was there besides a few locations. Naturally, sets are expensive business, but... That was a TV show!
No, seriously, this isn't a prank?!
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some sections of the walls surrounding me begin to move. This took several seconds—and monitors started working in front of me, continuously being covered with the characteristic squiggles of the Ancient language.
What the hell is happening?! Is the complex, whatever it is, reacting to my movements? Is that why more and more equipment is turning on? Wait, did Ancient technology react that way in the series? It seems so, to all humans... I think.
Taking a step back, I bumped the lower part of my back against the edge of an Ancient laboratory table, the center of which—a snow-white surface with quirks of geometric figures—I really didn't like. And it wasn't even that the device resembled laboratory glass onto which experimental biologists smear the substance they're studying.
But that this thing... It's even hard to describe... At the base, something like a truncated polygonal pyramid, the surface... Oh, to hell with it! What kind of shit is going on here?!
I might have watched something about this universe a long time ago, but I remember perfectly well that a "classic isekai protagonist" isn't found there. And here... I am clearly in my own, but very well-developed body. And at my age? With a sedentary job?
I rushed to the nearest dark screen on the wall. No, not to figure out the symbols of the Ancient language flickering on the matrix. I basically don't know how these symbols are translated or deciphered. I remember there was even a translator on fan sites, written by some of the die-hards, but... No, seriously, learn a fictional language?
I'm afraid that's for the Tolkienists. Or Klingon fans. Or whoever else.
In the monitor, I was interested in only one of its properties—the reflective surface. Poorly enough, but I could distinguish my appearance in it. No, really mine! A simple Slavic face with slightly protruding cheekbones and deep-set eyes, a high forehead, a short buzz cut... I haven't looked like this since the army!
"Brave new world," I muttered.
Alright.
I am somewhere on territory developed by the Ancients—it's not mandatory that it's Atlantis or an Ancient outpost. These are just the very first associations that come to mind.
I am in a young and strong, and most importantly, my own body.
And... Now it would be good to understand what time in the existence of the universe I have ended up in. The mere fact that I have ended up in the fictional television and comic book universe of "Stargate" at all has to be accepted as a fact. Of course, the option remains that all of this is a cruel joke or the delirium of a dying man, but...
Marina... If the Voice kept his word, if she is alive and her life has become happy, is it worth reflecting? No, of course not. I agreed to it myself "without looking." So, setting aside the soul-searching, let's start figuring out the substance of things.
First—I need clothes, otherwise I'll freeze to death here.
Then—look around the area and understand exactly where I've been dropped.
Third—realize not only where I am, but when. And in what damn galaxy. Because if I've been thrown into some Ori galaxy...
Hmm... It would also be nice to understand if I have any Ancient "perks," like their gene allowing the control of their complex technology, or telekinesis, or...
Wait, stop. Calmness, only calmness.
Answers to questions will wait for the resolution of urgent tasks. Clothes, reconnaissance, getting answers...
Oh, to hell with it!
Seeing some thing standing on the console that wasn't part of it, I reached out my hand to it, concentrated as best I could, sending the universe my desire to pull the piece of glass toward me... No, didn't work.
Fine, didn't live as a Jedi, no point starting now. It's time to start searching this little room; maybe there's something I need here.
Already in the process of scouring the corners, with a careful distancing from everything that would resemble some Ancient device, I caught myself thinking that several more versions of what was happening to me existed. I dismissed them immediately, since I felt the cold and I seemed to be hungry...
But this laboratory table... It ruins the whole picture.
The point is that in the series, Replicators were created on such a setup in the Pegasus galaxy. And those guys are humanoid machines consisting of nanorobots, nanites. With a full set of abilities from a mad Skynet—the desire to kill their masters, the ability to program machines with a single touch, they pass through walls...
Could I be a Replicator?
That would explain a lot...
Though, who am I lying to, what will that even explain? How will I check it? Look, I slapped myself, I felt pain. And when I woke up, it hurt too. That means, conventionally, of course, I am still human. Indeed, who would program a robot for human feelings?
No, of course, a radical method of checking could be organized, just to be sure... Replicators don't bleed, and wounds in humanoid or organic form, but with nanites inside, heal faster than on a dog. But! Enough playing the fool! Cut myself with some old piece of metal found by chance to see if blood comes out? To hell with such thoughts!
It seems that from an excess of emotions, the mush in my head is starting to burn. Too many questions, too few answers. I can't allow myself to be asked questions that don't relate to my current situation. Globally, right now, undressed and without a weapon, without an understanding of what's happening around me, I can't change anything in my fate.
And if no one was here upon my awakening, if no one came to my cries (and detecting a stranger on one's territory in the Ancients' lair is easier than pie), then I should think less and do more. Either I am entirely alone in the vicinity, or they might come for me soon. After all, the darkness and the equipment turning on make it clear that this laboratory-room-section or whatever it is, was not being exploited at the moment by the masters of... wherever I might be. Hmm... Or maybe I'm in that part of the city that hasn't been found and searched by the members of the Earth expedition yet? That would be something...
Or, I might not be with the Ancients at all, but with the Asurans, those very Replicators from the Pegasus galaxy. And they don't particularly like humans. And at certain periods of time, they simply hate them. So...
I slapped myself again. It acted like a gunshot to the temple—all thoughts completely left my head.
Alright, enough! It's time to stop this bargaining with myself. Saving a drowning person is the work of the drowning person himself. And only I am drowning in the abyss of the unknown here.
Rubbing my palms together more to occupy my head with some business than with crazy ideas from the series "What if?!", I suddenly realized that it wasn't so cold around. Yes, the floor, of course, is icy and my feet are freezing, but the air... Not the Sahara during the day, of course, but steam isn't coming out of my mouth either.
That means, whatever this place is, it's adjusting to comfortable conditions for me. A life support system, I think such a thing is called. Good. If only some six-legged metal spider would bring food and drink... No, to hell with all those metal spiders. In this universe, seeing such a little pest is a suure way to die.
Finishing the inspection of the room, I realized that the entrance, which is also the exit, is the only one here. And to the side of the door plate, three vertically arranged crystals glow with a bluish light. One only has to pass a hand over them, and the automation will trigger and... Something will happen.
Good, but that's for later.
For starters, not having found anything lying freely on the floor or the instruments, I came to the conclusion that in the walls there are something like lockers with small little windows. There is something inside them. Но лезть туда пока не стоит — вдруг какая сигнализация сработает?
Glancing around the room, I stopped in front of one of the monitors, which, unlike the others, continued to remain unactivated. A black screen, without the slightest sign of text, diagrams, desktop wallpapers... Non-functional equipment?
Only... Something is wrong with this monitor. More precisely, on the contrary. It is of a perfectly regular shape—a rectangle elongated vertically. And if you look at the other screens, they are in the shape of hypertrophied, broken parallelepipeds, rhombuses, squares with beveled corners...
And this one is of a familiar shape... Hmm... This "buzz" isn't for nothing.
Serene black nothingness, in the reflection of which I could distinguish my own face. Beyond any doubt—it is my face. And my body. If the Voice created me like this here, then... I suppose he is of the Ancients. And even more precisely, from that part of them that Ascended—rejected human bodies and became pure energy.
Only there are doubts—the Ascended don't meddle with humans. On their plane of existence, they have a set of rules about what can and cannot be done. And such antics... I doubt that they are among the permitted ones.
Fine, all of that is for later. But the thought that I have communicated with an Ancient and he arranged this tour into the unknown for me doesn't add joy. As far as I remember, the Ascended only carry out direct interference in human affairs when there is no other way out besides the coming of total Armageddon.
Goosebumps ran down my back.
Something is definitely happening here! Not to say that I'm very upset, after all, I agreed to it myself, but still! I could use an "introductory word"! I could really use one!
Looking at my reflection, I noticed that something was happening on the screen in the meantime. Some flash of light in the accumulation of darkness to the right of where I was standing illuminated a small area around itself for a moment and immediately disappeared, giving rise to a huge air bubble rising upward. Through the thickness of the water.
In that moment the light flashed, I managed to distinguish in the distance, hundreds of meters away from me, a multitude of tall structures of the most varied forms and configurations. Towers—round, square, polygonal, slanted... located on a platform in the shape of a "snowflake." And I... I, it seems, am in a part adjacent to the one being flooded... a part... a part... of Atlantis.
And right then, I was thrown into a heat. This isn't a monitor at all!
It's a window! A porthole, if you will. If one takes into account that Atlantis is, after all, a ship. And it doesn't matter—space or sea. This city has been in both capacities. And that didn't make things any better—I had to take it on faith that I really had somehow ended up on Atlantis.
And now, what I saw is clearly air escaping from a flooding room! The city is under water! And it's sinking!