I wondered if imagination was linked to sight. Even with my eyes closed, my mind can't seem to project anything onto the blank canvas of the back of my eyelids. Yet, I know I've read before that even the blind could imagine sounds, so perhaps my inability to do so was attributed more to the time I've been submerged in darkness rather than the lack of imagination. At any rate, I decided to stop trying and opened my eyes to the darkness of the cabin.

“Lights,” I said, and the fluorescent lamp automatically flickered on as I sat up in my bed, throwing the blanket aside and off me.

Unlike real eyes, my camera substitutes don't feel any discomfort when adjusting to brightness. In fact, it does so with surprising ease and I had the fleeting idea of asking Parker if I could install night vision technology into them.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts and I called out, “Come in.”

The cabin door slid opened and my – I can't believe I'm saying this – son-in-law, Newton Smith, stood at the door. He said, “Hey, I was just passing by and saw your lights on. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I just can't sleep,” I admitted. “Newton, right?”

“Actually, it's Leonard,” he replied, and I remembered Leila telling me the name before I went under five years ago. “Newton is my middle name. Parker just calls me that cause he thinks it sounds cooler.”

“I'm gonna have to agree with the doctor on this one,” I replied, thinking that I should have thought of an awesome middle name for Leila as well. “Do people still say 'cool' these days?”

“Parker does,” he watched as I adjusted my seating to lean against the wall. “Can't sleep?”

“Yeah, I guess I've slept for long enough.”

Uncannily, he asked, “Or maybe there's something on your mind?”

“I um...” I was unsure of how to reply. “It's um...it's nothing.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“You're really blunt, aren't you?” I said matter-of-factly.

“It's part of my charm.”

I chuckled at his directness, that personality of his matching the rather stout built.

Deciding it's better to get things off my chest sooner than later, I asked, “How did you meet my daughter anyway?”

He adjusted his standing uncomfortably. “Well...” he looked towards the chair opposite me and I gestured him to sit. Taking the invitation, he closed the door behind him and removed his coat, draped it over the chair, and took the position on the cushion after. “There's not much to the story, really. I was an engineer hired to maintain the Cryo-Tube. She said 'Hi', I said 'Hi', back. G told me to back off. One thing let to another and...”

“You're now porking my daughter.”

“Now who's being blunt?”

“Well, I'm her father, so I think I have the right to be blunt.”

“You know I'm older than you, right?”

“Still her father.”

“Heh,” he laughed awkwardly. “Right. Just so you know, we have a kid now.”

“I know. She told me. John is it?” I leaned into the wall of the cabin and contemplated on the idea that I was actually a grandfather. It dawned on me that I will likely never see him. “How old is he? Three?”

“Four, actually. We named her after Joan. A little at least.” Newton reached around into his coat pocket and retrieved a leather wallet. From within, he took out a small film of photograph and passed it to me. I wondered if anyone else in the world was still old fashioned enough to carry around pocket photographs. “We left him with a friend since we didn't know how dangerous this trip might be.”

The picture showed Leila and Newton with a young boy with a fluff of red hair, standing between them. I had no doubt the boy was my grandson for he had the same bubbled chin Leila had when she was younger, an age and image which was no more than a week old in my mind. He was pictured happily blowing out the candle on his third birthday cake, and I could not help but regret not being there to celebrate with them.

Newton said, “I know that face.”

“What face?” I asked.

“Your daughter have the same face when she does something wrong.”

“You know Leila is adopted, right? We don't really share a face.”

“All families share a face. One day, I'll probably share your face too.” I stretched out to return the photograph to him, to which he held out his hand in rejection. “Keep it. I can take more pictures with him, but I think that will be the only one I can offer you.”

“Thanks.” I coupled my reply with a nod of appreciation before pocketing the photograph.

“You know, John's pretty much the only kid in school who doesn't think of you as a hero. He's young, but somehow he knows you're only doing this for family.”

“About that.” A question came to mind. “What's with all this hero stuff? I've been hearing it since Leila's graduation and I don't really understand it. Leila tried to explain it to me but I couldn't fully grasp the idea.”

Newton crossed his legs and leaned into his seat. He stretched and looked up to the ceiling as if searching for a memory. “It might have been harder for Parker or Leila to explain, since they've been on the project since day one.” Having quickly found the rhythm of his story, he sat back up straight. “But before I was brought on, I was just some common folk. And there was this interview where they did with Joan, where she talked a little more about her inspiration to do the work she did. Then something about you came up and people started digging. The story of this project came to light and so did the reasons behind it.”

“And people started thinking of me as some saviour...”

“It's not that far-fetched. Take it from my point of view. The entire world is being shrouded by a poisonous Mist that is threatening to kill every single living thing alive. That's some pretty life affecting stuff,” he explained, looking at me with the same intrigue as if I had been a different species. “When I first heard about you, I was just a teenager. I thought that you were some brave man who was sacrificing his life to save the world. You were the superhero everyone needed to hear of in a time when everything seems lost.”

“And now?”

Newton shrugged, “The same, just with more emphasize on family.” He paused slightly before adding, “And maybe a little selfish.”

I laughed a little at the jab. It was funny because it was true, in that there was a degree of selfishness in my actions. I wanted to live. “Whatever the reason, I'm here now.”

“Yes...that you are.”

For a moment after that, we sat in silence. The rumbling churn of the train once again accompanying us.

I began, “Newton-”

He cut me off with, “Please don't call me that. It's a terrible name. I don't know why my parents would even name me that.”

I replied sarcastically, “I'm certainly not going to call you Leonard.” I paused again to collect the thoughts that had been cut off. “Anyway, thanks for the talk. I really needed it.”

“No problem.” He stood up, realizing the conversation had outlasted the topics. “Try to get some sleep.”

“I will,” I lied. I then ended with, “Son.”

“That's weird,” Newton admitted, shaking his head with a grimace. “I don't think it's quite fitting.”

“I know,” I replied slyly. “But I either call you that or Newt.”

He laughed, “Right, Newt. That's worst than Newton I think.” He opened the door and looked back to me with a smile. “Fine then, son it is. Night. Father.” And the door slid shut behind him.

Alone in the room again, I took out the family photo Newton gave me. I stared at the smiles of my daughter, wondering of the life that I had missed with her. Her wedding. Having John. Her first job. Her first home. I knew they had happened and there was nothing I could do to relive those moments of her life with her.

I thought it was unfair, that I had the power to jump forward decades in time, but not a single ounce of strength to move it in the direction I wanted. The whole journey, from the first day I entered the Cryo-Tube, had practically been chosen for me by others, and I could only watch as the world flowed by me. Events that are out of my hands. Death that stretched away from me. Life just out of my reach.