Gleese Cramburg coughed as consciousness flooded back into his body. He shivered, but that was to be expected, as his body temperature was still in the 70s. As it rose into the 80s his vision returned, and by the time it entered the 90s thoughts were beginning to form.
“Sixth time’s the charm.” He mumbled.
The door to his chamber opened, and Gleese stepped out from the coffin-like tube. He inspected the front info-panel, and found it had been nearly 3 centuries since he’d last emerged. His heart beat with excitement as he anticipated encountering the ship’s crew.
“Sixth time’s the charm.” He promised himself once more.
“You there! Where’s your Glibble-Spat?”
Gleese whipped around and saw a small, squat man waddling toward him. He looked fairly normal, save for the hat he wore, which looked like a plunger sticking out from his forehead with a tuft of thick white cotton on the end. Gleese felt the man looked like a lumpy unicorn.
The man beckoned to his head impatiently. “Your Glibble-Spat?” He asked again.
“Uhhh,” Gleese responded.
The man looked frantic. “You have a Glibble-Spat, right? You’re not an Impatny, are you?”
“I, uh, just came out of deep hibernation.” Gleese explained. “What’s a-“
“Don’t use absoluvian gatnik to destill your Impatnian festa-crest!” The man hissed. He pointed to his hat in a far more aggressive manner. “Where. Is. Your. Glibble-Spat!?”
Gleese sputtered a few mumbly words, but the man quickly retracted a whistle, blew it, then grabbed Gleese’s wrist.
“Let go!” Gleese snapped, trying to pull away, but the man’s grip was far too powerful.
“There will be a reckoning!” The man growled. “You’re going to fero for your lee offenses!”
Try as he might, Gleese was still weak and completely incapable of freeing himself.
…
Gleese did well to memorize the parts of the ship they passed. Through corridors, into rooms, past entire buildings and cities that had been nested along impossibly-high walls. Most everything had been erected while he was in deep sleep, as the ship had been designed to allow internal construction to accommodate the sensibilities of whatever culture manifested.
“I’m sorry for any offense.” Gleese would stammer along their route. “But please, I am unfamiliar with your customs. I was in deep sleep. Last time I woke up there were people worshiping a Tesla Coil, and-“
The man gave a barking laugh. “The old Course-coil cult? Those loonies?” He laughed again, and as he did, Gleese noticed his grip grew slightly more lax.
“Yeah, and before them there were these groups that painted everything green.”
The man gave a deeper laugh. “The environmentalists!” He pointed to a collection of shacks along one wall. Even from a distance, it was clear that the coats of green paint on them were old, dinghy, and cracked. “They hummered that the color would envorgo maxi plant-life!”
“If you think that’s wild, the guys before them harvested nearly every tree on the ship to build totem poles.”
Gleese’s captor was now laughing so fitfully that his strange hat fell from his head. He quickly reached for it, and sensing his moment, Gleese forcefully jerked his hand away and ran. He tried remembering the way back to his pod, but as he bolted past odd structures and unfamiliar hallways, he grew ever more uncertain about his location.
He felt panic rising within him. He wasn’t sure he’d find his way back to the cryo-pod before he was located by the strange denizens of the ship. He ran this way. He ran that way.
Hopelessness was beginning to settle upon his psyche when fortune smiled down upon him. After rounding a corner, he happened across a string of buildings with flaking green paint. A centuries’ old memory stirred within him… He’d hidden in those buildings in the past… His fourth attempt at waking.
Thanks to the familiar landmark, he was able to navigate back through a few more hallways and into the chamber of hibernating passengers. He rushed back to his pod, closed the door, locked it, and took a deep breath of relief.
“Three hundred more years.” He said, punching the numbers into the pod’s computer. “Three hundred more years, and seventh time’s the charm.”