He was coming out of a deep sleep. His eyes rolled open, as his neck cracked a bit. The nurse in her white outfit, complete with hat, finished injecting whatever it was in his IV and patted him on the cheek.

“It’s time to vake up space cowboy,” she said. “Your journey to zah moon is over.”

She left the room. The steal door locked behind her with a loud click, and a bright shot of fluorescent lights hit him like a sludge hammer. He felt his pupils dilate.

“Vell, vell,” said the ghost voice through a speaker. “Vile you ver out cold, ve gave you a shot to dream about going to zah moon. Ve know about your sexuality, and ve vill expose it to all if you don’t do as vee say. You vill tink dat you went to zah moon, and you vill tell all zat you did. Vile vee here are zah ones dat made the trip.”

He cursed at the open white room. The nightmare was true. The U.S.S.R beat him to it. He was now a hack.