You wake up

"P-p-please step back. Tha-tha-tha-tha-tha-tha-tha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-awing in progress."

There's a hiss. A cold mist slowly rolls out from the pod as the door gently pops and swings open. You groggily stumble out, and when you hit the ground you vomit. You feel your stomach churning and doing somersaults, and your head is going through the worst case of brain-freeze you've ever had. You roll onto your back, groaning. "I told you I'd only be a minute," you weakly quip.

But there's no reply. In fact, it's a lot quieter and darker than it was, for you at least, a moment ago. There's no quiet yet constant hum of people that permeates the station at all times, and the only lights you see come from the consoles and the small emergency floor lights.

"Something's not right," you think.

You take your time to regain your strength and get up. Looking around the room you see the cryo-pods, all in rows, their glass frosted over. You wander on over to the main console where all the buttons and switches are. It's all covered in a thin layer of dust; enough dust to tell you a decent amount of time has passed. Certainly more than the few days you were meant to be frozen. Weeks maybe? Definitely not longer than months though. The main monitor glitches for a split-moment, a rainbow of colours warping the shapes on screen, before returning to the screensaver. Something about that glitch made you feel funny, like being hit with water from a hose for a split-second before it turns off. You shake it from your mind. You decide it's best not to mess with anything, at least for now.

It's all a bit much for you right now, and the cryo-sickness is definitely not helping you out.