Passengers Page #5

Aurora's awake.

Congratulations.

You don't look happy.

Arthur, can you keep a secret?

Jim...

I'm not just a bartender, I'm a gentleman.

Don't tell Aurora that I woke her up.

She thinks it was an accident.

Let me tell her.

Of course.

How can there be no way

to put someone back into hibernation?

What if a pod breaks down?

No hibernation pod has malfunctioned

in thousands of interstellar flights.

Well, I'm awake.

Hibernation pods are fail-safe.

Good morning.

- Have you eaten?

- No. I'm starving.

And this is the dumbest machine.

Happy to help.

Gold-class breakfast.

Well, you're a man of simple tastes.

I'm not a gold-class passenger.

French breakfast puff's above my pay grade.

What? This whole time?

- Yeah.

- What can I get you?

- No. No, I'm fine.

- Stop it.

Really. Okay.

Here you go.

Yeah.

So, I was thinking,

maybe there's another way to go to sleep.

What about the infirmary?

I checked it out.

It's just scanners and an Autodoc.

There could be another hibernation machine

in the cargo hold.

I had that thought, too.

And then I read the manifest.

It's mostly farming stuff,

machines and trade goods.

Replacement parts

for computers and engineering.

We're not gonna find

a hibernation facility in a box.

- We could build our own.

- We can't.

Jim, you're not even trying.

I have tried everything.

For over a year, I...

I tried everything.

Well...

Well, I'm not ready to give up.

Infirmary.

What about research articles?

Any kind of technical documents.

Hibernation technology is proprietary.

The following articles deal with the subject

on a theoretical level.

New file. My voyage.

I boarded the Avalon with an idea,

a destination.

Both now out of reach.

I've been awake for seven days.

Awake far too soon.

And I may well spend

the rest of my life here,

in a steel world 1,000 meters long.

There's another passenger awake,

a mechanic named Jim Preston.

He seems to have accepted our fate.

But I'm scared.

I'm fighting to stay calm.

All the other passengers will sleep

for another 90 years

while I live out my life on this ship,

traveling forever...

Never arriving...

My only companion a total stranger.

Why did you do it?

Do what?

Emigrate. Leave Earth.

I'm interviewing you.

You're what?

You were the first hibernation failure

in the history of space travel.

That makes you a story.

Who you gonna tell?

Posterity.

So, why did you give up your life on Earth?

120-year space hibernation means you'll

never see your family or friends again.

You'll wake up in a new century

on a new planet.

It's the ultimate geographical suicide.

Well, I could ask you the same thing.

But it's my interview.

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