James Williams woke up in the creaking bed of a cold forest cabin. The air carried the damp scent of moss and pine, mixed with the smell of smoke and fire rising from the stove downstairs. He struggled to understand where he was. Confused, he scanned the room, but not a single clear idea came to mind.
He tried to sit up, but a terrifying pain shot through his ribs and forced him back down. A scream tore out of him before he could stop it. Still unaware of where he was, he remained lying there, breathing shallowly.
The first thing he noticed was that the house wasn't made of concrete like ordinary buildings, everything was wood. From the birdsong outside and the heavy mossy scent, he guessed he might be in some kind of shack near the coast. His eyelids grew heavy again, and under the crushing weight of exhaustion, James surrendered to sleep.
A few hours later, voices pulled him back.
"What are we going to do with this man?" a child asked curiously. There was excitement in the boy's voice, along with a sharp edge of tension. A stranger in the house made him nervous, but he couldn't hide how curious he was about what would happen.
James woke fully as soon as he heard the child.
When James tried to sit up again, the boy rushed to his side, stopped him, and then smacked him on the head. James, already drowning in pain, shouted as the sting landed on top of everything else. He tried to speak, but there wasn't even a fragment of energy left in his voice.
"Are you stupid, mister? Where do you think you're going in that condition?" the boy snapped.
James tried to look at him, but he couldn't. Every muscle ached, and his joints burned whenever he attempted to move.
While James fought through the pain, the boy opened the bedroom door and shouted into the hallway.
"Dad! The man's awake, come quick!"
Footsteps approached. A tall, muscular man entered with a rifle in his hands. James guessed he was in his forties. The man's build was obvious even under his clothes. His hair was medium-length and messy. He wore blue jeans, a utility belt packed with tools, a black vest, and a white shirt underneath.
The man sat down on the stool beside James's bed.
"James…" he said.
His voice was deep, worn down by years of fatigue.
James froze. It wasn't normal for a man he had never seen in his life to know his name.
"You're probably wondering how I know who you are," the man continued. "James, there's no one left who doesn't know your… fame."
He paused, as if weighing his words.
"Anyway. You don't need to listen to any of that right now. Get your rest."
He stood up and walked toward the door with slow, controlled steps. Before leaving, he turned back and looked at James one last time. Then he faced the boy.
"Noah, son, come here. Don't bother him."
Noah obeyed, stepped out of the room, and gently closed the door behind him.
James didn't know what to make of any of it. His mind was full of questions.
How does he know my name? he thought. And what does he mean by 'fame'? What is he even talking about?
As James drifted through his own thoughts, his eyes began to close—and suddenly he found himself inside a space shuttle.
He saw people moving around, working on something. But one of them caught his attention immediately: a woman with short, straight hair and striking blue eyes. Her skin looked like it was faintly glowing. James noticed that no one else shone, only her.
Without meaning to, his body started moving toward her.
The moment he took his first step, the shuttle shook violently. People shouted and ran in every direction. Yet the woman stayed exactly where she was, completely still.
When he took his second step, explosions thundered through the cabin. Flames began to crawl across the walls, spreading toward him. But when James blinked, the woman was gone.
He looked around frantically.
He wanted to take another step, but his body no longer obeyed him.
Then the entire shuttle detonated...
James jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.
"What kind of dream was that?" he thought.