Rover.

Everything is quiet, and after two hours on stage where I'm surrounded by the pounding of the base, it's the perfect way to crash and let all my tension release and even though I'm lying down, I can still feel my body vibrate like an earthquake, yet this tingling sensation it gives me is otherworldly but I've been realizing recently that it doesn't have the same effect as it did when I was eighteen. It used to give me the feeling that I was invincible, that the power I possessed would never disappear. Now, looking back, I think I was just overly confident.

I don't know how long I've been asleep, but a blue light starts flashing so bright that my eyes catch notice of it. Whoever it is better have a good reason for waking me up, and with the colour of the light, I'm pretty sure it has to be from a cop car.

It aches to have to get up, but I slip out of my bunk and open my eyes.

My balance dissipates as I look around myself and I fall back to my bed. The blue lights spark from the ceiling and from what I can see, this is not my tour bus. The small room is stark white with no windows and when I get up to try and find a door all I discover is the cool touch of the metal against the palms of my hands. I'm about to start yelling, but a speaker goes off.

"Good - morning - Rover," the soft robotic voice startles me.

"Uh-" I stutter, "Hi?"

"You - are - wanted - on - the - flight - deck," it says.

My lip quivers as I go on, "The what?"

"You - are - wanted - on - the - flight - deck," it repeats.

"Where the fuck am I?!" I ask.

Still, it only speaks the one sentence, "You - are - wanted - on - the - flight – deck."

In my head, all I can think over and over again is that I need to get out of here. This cube of terror keeps telling me to go to the flight deck and I have no idea how to do that, and I certainly don't want to do that.

"Why am I here?" I call out to wherever that voice is coming from.

"You - are - wanted - on - the - flight – deck."

"Oh, fuck off!"

Well, this is not how I thought I would be spending my night, nevermind the fact that I'm not wearing my clothes. I'm wearing a navy blue uniform complete with a collar that buttons all the way up my neck.

"You - are - wanted - on - the - flight – deck."

"Just open the fucking door!" I don't know where that came from.

As if on command, a part of the wall separates with the click of an airlock and opens like the door on a minivan. I take one step outside the room and look down each side of the hallway I now find myself in. It's a never-ending cylinder that curves far past what my peripheral vision can see. A few people walk by, people I don't recognize, and not one of them looks up at me, they're all writing things down on a tablet or talking into an earpiece.

"You -"

"Shut up!" I yell at the nagging robot.

And with that, I decide to just walk down the path to my left in hopes of eventually finding a way out of here. It's maybe two minutes before I turn a corner and finally come face to face with a clear indication of a door. It's a little darker than the walls around it and its split down the center. I waste no time in approaching it, and instantly, it opens up, yet this still isn't an exit. No, it's simply a large room filled with control panels and a plethora of people working at them. However, there's a huge window covering meters upon meters of the circular wall showing me what's really on the outside. It's cold, dark and unfriendly water that has us submerged in the deepest parts of the ocean.

"Captain?" I say involuntarily as I walk into the room, my mouth practically spitting out the word.

There's a woman standing on a pedestal watching over everyone. Her outfit is a bit more decorated than mine, but it goes down her curves as if it were a perfectly fitted waterfall.

When the door closes behind me, the woman's head turns in my direction before she decides to face me. Her light-brown hair reaches to her shoulders and sways gracefully with her movements.

"Lieutenant Baxton," she greets me as she walks down a few stairs.

"I'm reporting for duty," I tell her, once again having no control over my words.

I expected her to speak as if she would talk down to those under her rank, but she approaches me with curiosity.

"You look the same," she says.

"Should I be any different?" I ask her.

"No," she answers as she goes to touch my hair. "It's just... Your hair is white again."

"White?" I finally question out of my own volition.

I take my hand to try and see if what she's saying is true and sure enough it's icicle-white. It's been two years since I've dyed it that colour and I know I haven't gone back to it since. This is seriously starting to worry me, this place isn't right.

"I guess I've been thinking about 2015 a little too much these days," she laughs a little.

"2015?" I go on looking for answers. "What year is it now?"

She takes a bit of a step back at my question, "Why does it matter?"

What I want to say is that it does matter because this place, inside this metal machine, is all kinds of insane. I just want to get out of here. Instead, as if I'm no longer able to say what I want to say, I tell her, "It doesn't."

"Okay then," she says as she brings her attention back to something. "I need you to follow me."

"Sure," I agree, although I seem to have lost my free will.

The woman walks past me and back out to the corridor where I accompany her just a few steps behind.

We turn a corner some ways away and when we're all alone, she asks, "Are you okay, Rover?"

No, but I answer, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You just seem a bit off," she tells me, but then she whispers something under her breath, "am I okay?"

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she reassures me as we continue walking.

We stop in front of another large door, yet this time it almost seems as if no one has touched it in years. Rust is forming on its edges and it doesn't open automatically when we move closer, so with her bare hands, the woman forces the panels apart to let us into the room. The temperature is cooler and the lights flicker as if their electrical connections were falling to pieces. The walls, the long table and whatever chairs are left are the reflection of a gray storm. Without any kind of warning a screen lights up and on the other side is an older man dressed just like us.

"Captain Renberg," the man greets the girl.

"Chancellor Renberg," she returns the welcome.

"Now," the chancellor begins, "Lieutenant Baxton we have a very specific task for you to accomplish."

"Yes, sir," I say out of respect, at least I think so.

"You need to get my daughter off of that submarine, no questions asked."

"Father?" she questions his orders.

"You heard me," he tries to keep his composer. "Once you are back on the surface, I suggest you get out of the outer rim as soon as possible. Come back to our home planet."

"What's going on?" I interject at a loss for thoughts.

"Lieutenant," he acknowledges me once again, "that submarine doesn't have much time left."

"What?" I press on.

"You heard my orders," he says sternly, "now, do as you're told."

My head starts giving me the sensation that it's spinning and floating off into oblivion,

"You want us to leave all these people to die?"

"Lieu-" the chancellor tries to interject

I cut him off, "No! I'm not..."

Captain Renberg shifts to face me, her face strained in confusion, "You've never said no before."

"What?!" I continue to lose my sense of reality.

"Rover?" she calls my name.

I feel that I'm drifting farther and farther until everything around me disappears.

I think I might be drowning, but I take in a large breath as I go to sit up as quickly as I can and manage to hit my head on the finished board above me.

"Fuck!" I quietly shout to myself, bringing my right hand to my forehead.

As my eyes adjust to my surroundings, I see that I'm back in my bunk on the bus. The humming from the wheels on the pavement reassures me of this.

"What the hell kind of dream was that?"