COLDWAKE

It's been nine years since we began our journey to Alpha Centauri, our new home.

By now, Earth has surely perished after the event.

Nobody on board says it out loud. We just keep flying.

Four thousand people asleep below decks. Picked by a lottery nobody liked.

The job's simple. Get them there. Wake them up. Give them somewhere to live.

Three years to go.

Four of us awake to make sure we get there.