I opened my eyes with a guttural cry of unbearable pain that pierced every cell of my body. Around me was the same darkness, but now I felt that I was on something absolutely icy.
And in the process of my awakening, I jerked, fell off from somewhere, but, thank God, I managed to put my hands out in front of me. Otherwise, I would have smashed my face against... against something hard. And just as icy, that chills everything—palms, soles, torso, ass...
Jumping to my feet, I hugged myself with my arms, trying to warm up a little and understand what the hell was going on. My hand habitually brushed over the old scar on my forearm... Wait a minute!
"However," I muttered, feeling the mark of the wound from a distant past. "Is this how it's supposed to be?"
It seems the Voice has no intention of answering me. Or helping. Fine, I agreed myself, no point in hoping for others.
True, right now I really wanted to understand exactly what I had signed up for. I hope not for naked walks across cold boundless expanses. On the other hand, if the Voice fulfilled its part of the deal... does it matter?
Absolute darkness reigned around, through which nothing could be seen at all—not even if you gouge out your eye.
And silence. Not a rustle, not a creak, not a breath of breeze.
But there was also the cold. Fierce, beastly. It was felt by every cell of the body—especially the teeth reacted characteristically to it, which had a very hard time touching each other. The sensation was as if I had fallen into a huge freezer—and the steam bursting from my mouth with every exhale only completed the picture.
Standing in one place without moving is pointless. You can get sick that way. And considering the ambiguity of the situation—an idea of catching a cold somewhere unknown is not the most pleasant.
"Au!" I felt something elongated and metallic in front of me with my hands. Seems like a table. I can bet that's exactly where I fell from. "Anyone there?"
My eyes were gradually getting used to the new sensations, and in the darkness, the outlines of the surrounding objects began to emerge. On one hand, it lightened my soul a bit when I realized I wasn't in an open field with my bare ass... But on the other... I don't like cold dark rooms all that much.
From what I could see, this was definitely a small room with fairly high ceilings. Several pieces of furniture arranged on the floor. And not the slightest hint of lighting. Or of whoever might have dragged me here. Though, he didn't promise anything. No help, no advice... Just that I would end up in a familiar place.
And a bunch of problems on top.
Life had beaten me in all sorts of ways, but I don't recall such places in my past. Nor when I was in such good physical shape. Probably since my youth and sports sections. After that... no time for it.
"Damn jokes," the cursing seemed to give me strength.
What's that eternal Russian question? "What to do?" I'd like to know too. But let's add "Where am I?" and "What's happening?" Some intro would be nice, not straight into the hole, hoping I'll swim out.
Or is this some perverted sense of humor from the cotton-like bitches?
Fine, Micha, don't wake up trouble while it's quiet. But nothing can be seen... Nothing at all.
So, how do the blind get around? Slowly, step by step, ow, your mandolin, how cold! Better not catch a cold in the chizhik, or a snotty chizhik in a dark room—such a pleasure.
Fine, let's hope everything went according to plan. And I don't want to think about whose exactly.
From memory, I began performing exercise complexes to loosen up my muscles and warm up somehow. But it led to completely different consequences than I expected.
No, it got warmer. And brighter.
The pitch darkness began to dissipate little by little. The cause was numerous lamps scattered in the corners of the room. Similar in some way to vertical posts, with a thickening in the middle, they had many glass lamps arranged in a row one above the other.
Hm, something familiar.
As were the walls of uniform rusty color, with geometric figures over the paint. Elements of swamp-green painting also evoked a sense of déjà vu. Something swirled in my memory... Like you know the word, but can't remember how it's pronounced...
Ceiling, walls—they seemed to glow with light from dozens of lighting fixtures of the most diverse shapes. As if sparing my eyes, the sunny yellow light didn't rush to fill the entire room at once. Instead, its intensity increased with every second.
For a moment, I had to squint to let my pupils get used to the change in illumination. Covering my face with my palms, I stood in the cold, shivering like an autumn leaf in the wind. And only after realizing that the light penetrated even through my closed eyelids and the fingers of my palms, I slowly opened them, looking around.
"This is already something new," I muttered, looking around. The temperature in the room had noticeably risen—despite it still being cold here, I felt the light warming my body. Like sun rays on a clear summer day. Seems the local builders aren't too familiar with energy-saving lamp technology...
It got light enough to look around and examine every detail. Still cold, but I have no one to justify myself to... I'm pretty much alone here.
If you don't count a couple of oval panels whose pedestals, in severe strokes of a perfectionist, reminded of the laws of geometry. The indicator backlighting on the panels, done in lifeless white light, flooded unfamiliar control devices to me. Glass, plastic buttons, tiny regulators, more glass... hm... things...
"Oy, I don't like all this at all," I grumbled, no longer doubting what was happening.
No need to rub my eyes or pinch my arm—this setting is well known to me. Seems I misunderstood the Voice. Yes, he sent me to a known place. But in my past life, I personally had never been here.
I had only watched something similar on a TV screen and laptop, viewing an old (it's been twenty years since the last episode aired⁉) series about another American adventure in the vast Universe for all good against all bad.
Thinking for a couple of seconds, I slapped myself across the cheek with my palm. It hurt. Not sleeping, then.
"We had a wild party and marveled," I muttered. "Sobered up—burst into tears. No mermaid, but ashamed before the catfish... Affairs-a-a-a."
I stood in the middle of an Ancients' laboratory—characteristic geometric pattern of the interior, familiar control panels. Even the pattern on the floor—all this pointed to only one place where I could be.
Atlantis. No, nonsense! Nonsense!
"I hope this is a very, very bad dream," I muttered, approaching one of the panels closer. A multitude of buttons, touch screens, regulators, miniature switches... "Fine, I'll agree to vivid pre-death hallucinations."
There was still the option that it was cold here because this wasn't the lost city of the Ancients in the Pegasus galaxy, but an outpost of the same race on mother Earth, in Antarctica... That version would explain the cold. And the series didn't detail what was there besides a few locations. Understandably, sets are expensive, but... It was a series!
No, seriously, this isn't a prank⁈
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some sections of the surrounding walls starting to move. It took a few seconds—and monitors came to life in front of me, continuously covered with characteristic scribbles of the ancient language.
What the fuck is happening⁈ The complex, whatever it is, reacts to my movements? That's why more and more equipment turns on? So, in the series, Ancient tech reacted similarly? Seems yes, to all humans... I think.
Taking a step back, I bumped the lower part of my back against the edge of the Ancients' lab table, whose center—a snow-white surface with geometric figure quirks—didn't appeal to me much. And it's not even that the device resembles lab glassware onto which experimenting biologists apply the substance they're studying.
But that this thing... Hard to even describe it... At the base something like a truncated polygonal pyramid, the surface... To hell with it! What the hell is going on here⁈
Maybe I watched something in this universe a long time ago, but I perfectly remember that a "classic isekai" doesn't appear there. And here... I'm clearly in my own, but very well-developed body. And at my age? With a desk job?
I rushed to the nearest dark screen on the wall. No, not to figure out the swirling symbols of the ancient language 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 die-hard, but... No, seriously, learn a fictional language?
That's for Tolkienists. Or Klingon fans. Or whoever else.
The monitor interested me only in one property—its reflective surface. Poorly or not, but I could make out my appearance in it. No, really mine! A simple Slavic face with slightly protruding cheekbones and deeply set eyes, high forehead, short crew cut hair... I didn't look like this even after the army!
"Wonderful new world," I muttered.
So.
I'm somewhere on territory developed by the Ancients—not necessarily that this is Atlantis or an Ancients' outpost. Just these are the first associations that come to mind.
I'm in a young and strong, and most importantly, my own body.
And... Now I need to figure out in what time of the universe's canon I ended up. The very fact that I ended up in the fictional TV and book-comic universe of "Stargate" has to be taken as fact. Of course, there's the option that this is all a cruel joke or the ravings of the dying, but...
Marina... If the Voice kept its word, if she's alive and her life became happy, is it worth reflecting? No, of course not. I agreed "blindly" myself. So, aside with soul-searching, let's get to the essence.
First—need clothes, otherwise I'll freeze here.
Then—scout the area and understand where exactly I've been thrown.
Third—realize not only where I am, but when. And in what fucking galaxy. Or else, if I've been tossed into some Ori galaxy...
Hm... It would also be nice to figure out if I have any Ancient perks, like their gene allowing control of their complex technologies, or telekinesis, or...
Wait, stop. Calm, only calm.
Answers to questions will wait for solving urgent tasks. Clothes, reconnaissance, getting answers...
Ah, to hell with it!
Seeing some thing standing on the console and not being part of it, I reached out my hand to it, concentrated as much as I could, sending my desire to the universe to pull the piece of glass to me... No, didn't work.
Fine, didn't live as Jedi, no point starting. Time to search this little room, maybe there's something useful here.
Already in the process of rummaging through the corners, carefully staying away from everything that resembled some Ancient device, I caught myself thinking that there are a few more options for what's happening to me. I dismissed them immediately, as I felt the cold, and seemed to be getting hungry...
But this lab table... It spoils the whole picture with oil.
The thing is, on such a setup in the series, they created Replicators in the Pegasus galaxy. And those guys are humanoid machines consisting of nano-robots, nanites. With a full set of abilities from mad Skynet—desire to kill their masters, ability to program machines with a touch, pass through walls...
Maybe I'm a Replicator?
That would explain a lot...
Though, who am I kidding, what would that explain at all? How do I check? Look, I slapped myself, felt pain. And when I woke up, it hurt too. So, conditionally, of course, I'm still human. Really, who would program a robot for human feelings?
No, of course, I could organize a radical check method, to be sure... Replicators don't bleed, and wounds in humanoid form or organic with nanites inside heal faster than on a dog. But! Enough suffering nonsense! Cut myself with some old piece of iron found by chance, to see if blood flows? To hell with such thoughts!
Seems from excess emotions, the porridge in my head is starting to burn. Too many questions, too few answers. Can't allow myself to ask questions that don't relate to my current situation. Globally, right now, naked and unarmed, without understanding what's happening around, I can't change anything in my fate.
And if there was no one here at my awakening, no one came to my cries (and detecting an intruder on their territory in an Ancients' lair is simple), then it's worth thinking less and doing more. Either I'm completely alone in the area, or they might come for me soon. After all, from the darkness and turning-on equipment, it's clear that this laboratory-room-compartment or whatever it is wasn't being used by the owners at the moment... wherever I am. Hm... Or maybe I'm in that part of the city that the Earth expedition members haven't found and searched yet? That would be a number...
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 like humans much. And at certain times, they just hate them. So...
I slapped myself another one. It worked like a shot to the temple—all thoughts flew out of my head.
So, enough! Time to stop this bargaining with myself. Saving the drowning is the drowning man's business. And drowning in the abyss of the unknown here is only me.
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 that cold around anymore. Yes, the floor is icy and my feet are freezing, but the air... Not Sahara during the day, of course, but no steam from the mouth either.
Ah, so whatever this place is, it's adjusting to comfortable conditions for me. Life support system, I think that's what it's called. Good. If only some six-legged metal spider brought food and drink... No, to hell with all these metal-spiders. In this universe, seeing such a nasty thing is a sure way to die.
Finishing the room inspection, I realized that the entrance, aka exit, is one here. And to the side of the door panel, three vertically arranged crystals glow with bluish light. Worth passing a hand over them, and the automation will work and... Something will happen.
Good, but that's later.
***
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