The last time my eyes were closed - I thought definitely - was on a windy cliff overlooking the Lacydon of Massalia, a pugio through my heart. I died by the weapon of a Roman that day - or so I thought - when the Ceasar Gaius Julius invaded and annexed our city in 49 bc.
My name is Stollo - or so it was. I was born in 25 BCE in what was to be remembered as Gaul by subsequent generations who would only remember Massalia as always belonging to Rome, even changing its name.
I awoke in a glass vat of life-sustaining liquid, confused and alarmed, a voice repeating a name I did not recognize but that would be mine from then on. Bob… Mr. Mo’rane.
She introduced herself as Aura, the living representation of a machine who, matter-of-factly, explained that the year was 23236 A.D and that I was a Capsuleer in the services of the Gallente Federation. Not much of what she said made sense to me but I was alive and given a purpose. I was to fight in flying engines of powerful destruction to protect the Federation against pirates and empires. That was language I understood.
So, even after all that time passed, there would still be territory to defend against foreign invaders and pillagers who would stop at nothing to innihilate the innocent along with the guilty. I was a soldier back then and now I am revived into service. The only difference was that I would never die again.