Disclaimer: This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, stories and situations are the property of the author. And for anything that is not mine, I'm borrowing it out of deep reverence, affection and respect for the creator.

A/N: This is can be anyone with the ATA gene's point of view in the beginning of the first season.

I cannot sleep.

It's not because I'm in an alien city millions upon millions of light years from my home on Earth, because this city already feels like home. It's not because I'm not exhausted, because I really am and I feel like I haven't slept properly in days. It's not because my bed is not comfortable, because it is.

It's because I hear this whispering in the back part of my mind since I walked through the wormhole that led here and I don't know what to do about it. Should I answer the city's call (at least I think it's the city), even when I don't know what exactly it's asking or telling or whatevering me.

It's because I feel like I'm being watched all the time. Not the starker stare or the someone-across-the-room-is-ogling-you-because-you-are-the-most-interesting-thing-in-the-room stare, it's more like the your-mother-is-watching-you-sleep-because-she-had-a-nightmare-that-you-died-in-and-wants-to-make-sure-you're-still-alive stare. It had bothered me before because I have never liked being watched by anyone (including my own mother) for any length of time, and since has been going on for days I guess I've gotten somewhat used to it.

It's because temperatures in all rooms I walk into change from whatever they were set before to something I am perfectly comfortable in, even when other people are not.

It's because when first I used the database, the page with the information I needed pop up almost immediately, followed by a related articles list sorted in an outlined format with the ones most related to the main article on top of list. Then weirdest thing happened right after that, about a minute or so afterward, the words on my computer screen faded into the background and were superimposed with an almost perfect English translation of that page. And that the Atlantis database has been doing it ever since.

Should I tell someone about all of this…no, I probably shouldn't unless someone else asks me about it, because they'd probably send me straight to Heightmeyer for daily sessions until we get back into contact Earth again…so, ah, no thank you.

I guess it will be my little secret…and maybe working on some paper-work will help put me to sleep.

A/N #2: I have a poll on my profile, I would appreciate it if you would put in your vote because I am going close it on July 25, 2008 or whenever I get at least 30 voters. Thanks.