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[Silver]

Let's see where this leads. (Chapter One)

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"When the first wild dog bit the first hand that tried to feed it, the legend of the werewolf was born."

"Not this again, shizhé’é," says my mom with a heavy sigh from the kitchen behind me. "He'll have nightmares again tonight."

"He's the last of our kind," says shinálí as a comical wink beneath bushy white eyebrows presents itself amidst a wise old face. "He deserves to know our history."

"The only accurate part of this story is how a foolish man contracted rabies."

"I remember a time when you would beg me to tell it to you."

"Yeah, when I was a little girl who didn't know better. And it gave me nightmares, too. With all the stories our people have told, can't you pick something less frightening?"

"But I like this story," I say as I spin around on the floor and look at my mother. "Werewolves are cool."

Shimá looks up from the mutton she is preparing for a soup. But she does not have a serious or disapproving facial expression. Intense concentration on everything tends to be her default. Taking care of two people on opposite ends of the age spectrum seems to afford her no time to relax.

"Okay," she says with a nod as she lowers her gaze back to the counter and the sharp knife in her hand. "But don't come running into my bed tonight after you have a nightmare."

I almost say, That only happened once, but I keep the thought to myself and spin around on the floor to give grandpa my full attention.

"We have always been brave people, but one man in particular was perhaps braver than most."

"Stupider than most," whispers my mother under her breath.

Being hard of hearing, he continues as though there was no interruption. "After a vision quest where he was approached by a wild dog, the visitation was interpreted by an elder. Distrustful of the interpretation, he spent the final years of his adolescence in quiet contemplation while tribal life continued.

"The night before he was to be taken on his first hunt," he pauses, but something is wrong.

There is a sudden, unnerving silence. Not even a sound from the kitchen. Even more unsettling is how grandpa now looks as though he is a lifeless, flat representation of a person.

"Error, error," begins a computer generated voice as my surroundings break apart via pixelations to reveal a white void. "Program no longer available. Error, extensive power malfunctions spreading to all systems. Irreparable failure is imminent. Resorting to…"

The voice crackles as I feel myself losing consciousness. Or, if this is a simulation, perhaps I am returning to consciousness.

The computer makes a final attempt to relay its message as a word in repetition attempts to break free. "to…to…to…Helmuga Protocol."

A jolt precedes the oncoming darkness, but unlike a hypnic jerk that keeps one awake I am instead sent spiraling away from awareness.

When my eyes snap open my upper body reflexively rises. A hard knock on the head disorients me. Reaching up with an arm results in another contact with something hard. It is as though I am in a confined space. The first logical concept is that of a coffin.

Reopening my eyes after the pain in my head subsides somewhat, I look around. The panels are too technical to belong to a burial casket. By the minimal artificial light that remains, I see mostly inactive mechanical panels that have no meaning to me. There being some light must mean there is residual power. Which also means I might not be trapped.

The lights flicker and the same computerized voice from before echoes through the small chamber. "...not much time left. Know that you aren't alone. Above all, survive."

Multiple loud clicks in succession follow the message, and the lid of the compartment pops open. A gush of outside air brushes against my face, but the lack of natural light has me thinking it might be nighttime.

Before I sit up, even though it is safe now, I wonder for how long I was engaged by the simulation. There is no immediate memory of the sleep pod or its intended purpose. Was I a willing participant or was the occupancy forced upon me for some reason?

Having the distinct notion that answers are buried with the computer's recent power failure, I hope my memory returns soon. All I currently have is what the simulation showed prior to whatever led to its ultimate demise.

Rolling over onto my side, using my elbow to prop myself up, I peek over the side of the container. Nothing out of the ordinary here, which I suppose is a relief. An ordinary seeming environment with breathable air. Mine does seem to be the only pod in the vicinity, though I cannot see too far with the poor starlight from above.

Risking a shout out that might alert any predators to my location, I yell, "Hello?"

The only answer is my own echo amidst the evening harmony of insects. What little I can see of the landscape, it is not familiar. Yet neither are the stars. A memory comes to mind of grandpa teaching me the constellations. What I see above is somewhat alarming, because these are not the same stars observable from earth.

Since I can no longer remain in this pod, I exit with the determination to discover where I am. Other things grandpa taught me come to mind. Planting a knee on the ground, I place a hand in the dirt and scan the immediate area. It is as though the pod was carefully placed here, because an impact into the ground would have created a crater. Unless the pod is advanced enough to have controlled its journey and landing.

The dirt beneath my hand and between my fingers feels like dirt. Having just woken up from a realistic simulation, I am a little distrustful of my senses. Yet I cannot be in a state of permanent paranoia.

One breath at a time, one footstep in front of another, and moment by moment I will learn what I can.

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