The room was white. It was cold, it was sterile, and it had been Pim's home for the last 165 years. Her eyelids had been frozen shut, her blood no longer pumping.
There was a timer. It had been counting down since the 24th of Kovas, 2017. The red neon numbers flickered as they descended. The tech was severely out of date. The nurses watching over Pim considered updating her chamber but concluded it wouldn't do anything but waste their time. So they left her.
The nurse who was watching over Pim when the counter hit zero was a volunteer. She had little training and was meant to be at a piloting lecture. Her hair that had been strung up in a high bun turned a sickly pale pink as she pressed as many emergency buttons as she could before the head nurse shuffled her out of the room, annoyed. The volunteer watched as the nurse unplugged Pim and placed her on a wheeled mattress before moving her to a surgery room.
The surgery lasted only a half hour as the nurse scanned and sealed the wound that had once rested on Pim's torso. It was now a matter of waiting. Soon enough, the sleeping pilot - whom Pim had become to be known - would wake and aid the people once more in their battle against the Artizatorians - the Memory Absorbers.