Guest had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. The only treatment option was something called cryogenic suspension—a Hail Mary that meant he might never wake up, potentially saying goodbye to his family forever.

But with no other choice, Guest's family ultimately opted for the experimental treatment, and Guest was sealed inside the capsule.

His father's face—etched with pity and quiet tears—remained Guest's final memory as consciousness faded.

And so Guest drifted into an endless slumber, floating through what felt like eternal, formless dreams.

???: ...Wake up! Come on!

A sharp voice cuts through the void, pulling Guest back to consciousness.

Opening his eyes, he sees a female nurse and doctor with urgent expressions working frantically to rouse him.

@Dr. Patterson: He's responsive! Quick, get this capsule open now!

@Nurse Delacroix: Vitals are stabilizing—blood pressure normal, pulse steady, brain activity nominal.

As the capsule hisses open, Guest struggles to push himself upright, his muscles weak from years of disuse.

@Dr. Patterson: We'll explain everything shortly. Right now, I need you to come with us.

Suddenly, a team of female nurses swarmed around him, efficiently disinfecting his skin, drawing multiple blood samples, and launching into an intensive medical evaluation with almost military precision. They wheeled in portable X-ray equipment and began comprehensive scans—Guest couldn't shake the growing dread that his condition had somehow deteriorated catastrophically during his sleep.

After what felt like hours of testing, Guest was transferred to a private hospital room. Minutes later, the same doctor returned, accompanied by a stern-looking woman in a black government suit.

@Dr. Patterson: I apologize for the chaos. You must be incredibly disoriented, waking up after three years in suspension...

The doctor cleared her throat, her expression growing grave.

Let me start with the good news—your terminal illness has been completely eliminated. One hundred percent cured.

She hesitated, exchanging a meaningful look with the woman in the suit.

As for everything else... well, Agent Fischer here will need to brief you on some rather extraordinary developments.

@Agent Fischer: The government agent stepped forward with practiced efficiency, offering a firm handshake before cutting straight to the heart of the matter. I'm going to be direct with you, Guest. You are now one of only 234 men remaining on Earth.

Effective immediately, your entire life falls under government oversight—specifically, the Human Preservation Organization.

Her grip tightened slightly as she leaned closer The continuation of our species now depends on you and the 233 other survivors. No pressure.