Unova-5

Sound of crushing metal. Odorless stickiness of perfluorocarbons saturating my airways. Sudden gripping claustrophobia. Paniced and disoriented, I rap my hands against the curved glassy panel of my statis pod. The panel slides upwards, spilling the clear viscous fluid all over the Raft floor, and depositing me on the floor, naked, coughing and retching out more of the perfluorocarbons. As my lungs slowly acclimatize to breathing air, the lights turn on and I feel a presence in my head.. reassuring that I am not alone... somewhere out there, the Parent is engaged in unrelenting pursuit of their obscure goals, and I have a part in bringing them to fruition. Pod 303 flies into view from inside a storage container carrying some spare clothes for me. Soon I was ready to step out of the Raft, curious to see how the world had shaped in the intervening time...

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One plantery revolution has past since I have been reactivated. Making contact with nearby settlements have yielded negative results. Their strong distrust of any person with bi-chromic irises is vexing. Changeling is what they call me as they turn me away, the Parent explains that they fear change above all else, and that I am am Intrument of it. The latter statement I find most vexing for all I have done is to read, study and memorize... well... everything.. multitudes of languages, many of the mainstream text and also obscure treatises on esoteric topics, movements of the stars in the night sky and reports from far away lands. 303's company and link to the Parent are all that keep me going each day...

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Things have been changing fast lately. The Parent has started prompting me to urgently master the musical instruments and feats of acrobatic displays, ever since 303 intercepted reports of anomalous occurrences of astronomical magnitude from a place known as the "New World". The logic of me undertaking such task in my state of utter solitude elude me.  On threshold of change, the Parent's words ring true.