Déjà Vu (Part A)

"How are you feeling right now? Are you experiencing any headaches, nausea, blurred vision, ringing in your ears, or erections?"

"Just a bit dizzy."

"That's normal, you've been in cryogenic sleep for a long time. It will pass soon, let me know if it doesn't." After a brief pause, she continued. "Do you remember your family or profession? Even the smallest detail will do."

"I have a wife and a daughter... I think?" he said, slowly scratching his scruffy beard.

"Very good. Do you know how long you've been dead?"

"Around seven thousand years?" he said thoughtfully, as if searching for a distant memory. "But I'm not sure, the concept of time is very blurry for me."

"That's quite an accurate guess." said the woman, examining the file in front of her. "It's been exactly seven thousand three hundred and fifty-six years, two months, and fourteen days. Can you tell me where you are right now?"

"Some kind of infirmary or medical facility." said the man, looking around. "But I can't be more specific than that."

"What about the city or country we're in? Do you have any idea about those?"

The man furrowed his brows in thought. Names were dancing behind a veil of mist in his mind — he could almost grasp them, but they kept slipping through his fingers each time. "Unfortunately." he finally said, letting out a slight sigh. "It feels like I should know, but I just can't figure it out."

The woman conducted a comprehensive series of tests — a lengthy personality assessment, detailed physical examination, and various reflex checks. After carefully noting all of these, she quietly left the room with her file.

When alone, a strange feeling came over the man. This place felt oddly familiar to him, as if he had spent a long time here before. But that was illogical — he hadn't been alive for over seven thousand years, how could he recognize this place?

Seven thousand three hundred and fifty-six... This number kept echoing in his mind, as if it were part of an important code. With each repetition, it embedded itself deeper into his subconscious.

There was something else bothering him: his extraordinary calmness about his current situation. Under normal circumstances, someone coming back to life after more than seven thousand years should be panicking, perhaps screaming and losing control. Yet he was calm and thoughtful, as if coming back from death was an everyday occurrence. Where did this abnormal serenity, this strange tranquility come from? Why wasn't there even the slightest flutter of fear within him?

Hoping to find answers to these questions occupying his mind, he began to examine the room more carefully. As his eyes slowly scanned the room, the only familiar object that caught his attention was the complex-looking genetic encoder in the corner. While looking at this device, an unexpectedly vivid image appeared in his mind: A tall, elegant woman — Aleah — was working intensely at this machine. This memory was so real that he could almost hear the rustle of her lab coat. But this image defied logic. How could someone who had just awakened recognize a device here and an employee?

 Aleah... This name was on the tip of his tongue, as if he had known her for years. But who was she? These unexpected memories and information emerging from the depths of his memory were creating a growing unease within him.

At that moment, two people entered the room. One was the blonde woman who had just left. The other was a tall, slim man in a black suit. As he entered, he adjusted his slicked-back hair.

"We've been waiting for you to wake up. I'm personally glad you're awake. My name is Zeta." he said and extended his hand for a handshake.

"Geminga." said the man.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Geminga. Aleah, would you bring us each a glass of sona?"

The woman left the room with a slight sigh and drooped shoulders.

Aleah... So that was the name of the woman he remembered. But how had he learned it?

Zeta pulled out a chair for the man before sitting at Aleah's desk.

"I don't need to draw out my words with you, but the delicacy of the situation requires a detailed explanation. I'll tell you everything clearly."

This conversation felt familiar from somewhere — as if he had heard the same words, in the same tone of voice before. Each sentence, each emphasis, even Zeta's posture triggered an echo of memory in his mind. This déjà vu feeling was so strong that he could almost predict the next words.

"It's true that you died before — it's important that you accept this fact. We had to keep you in special conditions for a long time because our technology wasn't advanced enough yet."

No, no — this wasn't just déjà vu. He had lived through this conversation before, with every word, every intonation, every detail. Deep in his mind, there was a crystal-clear foresight of how this scene would continue. And at that moment, a voice began to rise from within. This was different from his inner voice, a foreign voice he had never heard before — echoing through the corridors of his mind like the resonance of another consciousness. A voice he didn't recognize or know, but strangely felt very close to. This voice seemed to be trying to tell him something, as if struggling to free him from a cycle he had been trapped in for a long time.

"Change it! Don't continue the same way! The only way to escape this cycle, this endless repetition, is change! Stop repeating everything the same way!" The inner voice was rising, almost turning into a desperate cry.

This voice... It was practically begging the man, desperately pleading. It was struggling for him to do something different. But what did he need to change? What decisions should he make differently? Why should he make decisions differently? This mysterious voice from the depths of his mind echoed even more clearly and vividly than Geminga.

He hesitated for a moment. A voice in his own mind that was clearer than Geminga... How could this be possible? And was Geminga really him? Why did this name feel so foreign? Among all these questions and contradictions in his mind, he hesitantly parted his lips and finally gathered the courage to ask:

"Who is Geminga?" His voice echoed in the room's silence.