Place: Space Agency Mission Control<br/>Date: Jan 15th, 2116<br/>Time: 8:00 a.m.<br/><br/>Peter drifted in and out of deep sleep, losing track of time. Sometimes he became vaguely aware of the goings-on in the waiting room. Occasionally there were footsteps or shadows that crossed his eyes, and occasionally heard voices. Otherwise, it was strangely quiet besides a distant hum of some fan or machine.<br/><br/>A voice directed at Peter broke through the vague shadows and fuzzy world in his mind. A hand shook his shoulder, fully bringing him into consciousness.<br/><br/>"Hmm?" Peter mumbled, squinting and lifting himself from the seat. His shoulder felt stiff from where it had been resting against the wall. He rolled it to ease the discomfort as he turned to look at the man who had woke him up.<br/><br/>Peter was asked if he needed anything.<span style="font-style: italic">I need some more goddamn sleep,</span>his irritable brain thought, but he knew that wasn't right to say.<br/><br/>"I'm fine. Thank you." The response was automatic, but as Peter said it, he realized that his tongue was dry. He had probably drooled on the seat like an idiot. It was a great way to introduce himself to his coworkers. And they were the kind that you couldn't really escape, either.<br/><br/>Before he made a request, Peter looked over to the people who had arrived at an actually reasonable time. He was vaguely aware of their faces, but he couldn't attach names or personalities to them. Two of them were reading, and the man sitting right next to him looked like he was in some sort of discomfort. Whether it was mental or physical, Peter couldn't tell.<br/><br/>"Some water, maybe," Peter looked up at the man, attempting to give a small smile but failing due to lack of effort.<br/><br/>Peter hadn't even questioned who the man was, and only realized he was some sort of doctor's assistant or nurse when he turned to the reading woman and told her that it was her turn to be examined.<br/><br/>Peter bristled slightly. If it was just a physical checkup, it was fine by him. He didn't mind being poked and prodded; it was easy for him to think of it as an impersonal experience. Any line of questioning, however, made him defensive and frustrated. He hated talking about himself or trying to explain himself, especially anything involving the mind. He believed it was something more private, not something to be casually shared with a doctor.<br/><br/>With the exception of mental illness, of course. Which Peter did not have, according to the information he provided when he signed up for the trip. There was no need to go through the process again.<br/><br/>Someone arrived late. It was the commander, according to the way she introduced herself. Peter mentally congratulated her for her stellar leadership thus far. He gave her a casual two-finger wave.<br/><br/>"Peter," he gave a simple introduction, turning away as Christopher took the floor.<br/><br/>Now fully awake, Peter wondered why the group seemed so standoffish to each other. Of course, Peter wasn't one to judge. He wasn't a people person, or even a friendly person, but the atmosphere felt much more like any doctor's waiting room rather than a trip that involved the rest of their lives.<br/><br/>He wished he'd brought something to read.