 Why did everyone have to wake up?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories November 1952. There were round dials set in a row above a speaker. The mesh-covered hole and the two lights looked like a caricature of a face, set in a panel of dials. I reached down to the tightness that held my body, found the wide strap that held me and fumbled with the buckle. How do you describe being weightless when you are born into a world bound by gravity. There was no sensation of place, no feeling of up or down, no direction. I rubbed them across my face, feeling the solidity of flesh and bone, afraid to think too hard about myself. I will always remember the scream of terror, the paralyzing fright of what I saw through the portholes in the wall of the room. They seemed to press against the glass, blobs of fire against a black curtain burning into my eyes and brain. After the first shock of looking out, I accepted the fact that I was in a space ship, yet I couldn't read the maps that were fastened to a table, nor understand the function or design of the compact machinery. Now it must tell me why I didn't. It was the only thing I saw that could help me, guard me against another shock like seeing outside of the clear portholes. "Do not begin operations until the others are removed from suspension." He was as still as death, motionless without warmth or breath as I hovered over him.
 Everyone had their own job on the ship that needed doing.
 Everyone had to help fly the ship so it wouldn't crash into the G type star.  Everyone worked in pairs in the same position so they needed their partners.  Everyone had their own job on the ship that needed doing.  Everyone remembered small elements of what was going on and wanted to keep the information to themselves.