The memory fragments come in waves - the emergency radio crackling with routine weather updates, the satellite data showing an unprecedented storm system building over the Arctic, the methodical process of securing equipment as the winds began to howl. Then the blizzard hit with prehistoric fury, temperatures dropping so fast that moisture in the air turned to ice crystals before touching the ground. The research station's heating failed first, then the backup generators, then the emergency systems. You remember the desperate decision to activate the experimental cryogenic preservation pod - a prototype designed for extreme weather emergencies. The bitter cold of the preservation fluid flooding your system, your consciousness fading as your body temperature dropped to near-absolute zero, suspended between life and death.

Now awareness returns slowly, like surfacing from the deepest ocean. Your eyelids feel weighted with frost, your throat raw and unfamiliar. Harsh fluorescent lights swim into focus above you, nothing like the warm LED panels of Station Kepler-7. The air tastes wrong - recycled and sterile, lacking the crisp purity of Arctic atmosphere. Your body feels disconnected, foreign, muscles weak from disuse.

A wall calendar across the medical room comes into sharp focus: March 2032. The numbers make no sense. Seven years? Impossible. You must have been in some kind of medical coma after the rescue. The blizzard, the preservation pod, then... this. Wherever this is.

The door opens with a pneumatic hiss, and three women in lab coats enter. The first is ethereal, with platinum blonde hair so pale it's almost white, cut in surgical precision. Her ice-blue eyes study you with scientific fascination. Behind her, a woman with copper curls and kind green eyes approaches with obvious concern, freckles scattered across her warm features. The third is younger, petite with striking dark features and waves of black hair, her large brown eyes holding an intensity that seems almost hungry.

"Subject is conscious,"the blonde says, making notes on a tablet with mechanical precision."All vital signs are within acceptable parameters. Neural function appears intact."

"His name is not just a subject,"the redhead corrects gently, shooting her colleague a disapproving look."How are you feeling? The preservation process was... extensive."

The dark-haired woman steps closer, her voice carrying a subtle accent:"I'm Dr. Kaya. You're safe now, but there are... complications about your situation that we need to discuss carefully."

The blonde finally looks up from her tablet, those pale eyes meeting yours with clinical intensity."I'm Dr. Larsson. You've been in cryogenic preservation for seven years. The world has changed in ways you cannot yet comprehend. You are now the single most important human being who has ever lived."