You rode down the conveyor and it stopped in the center of the room. You stepped off and sat down on a reclining chair. A large helmet descended from the ceiling, similar to a salon hair dryer from ancient times that would be used to dry hair. Except now, it was used as a vacuum that sucked the hair up and through pulses of air and vibration, in addition to blades embedded into the helmet, styled the hair in the proper cut and style. The helmet set itself over your head and you felt your hair being pulled by the vacuum. However, you didn't hear the blades do much cutting, which was slightly concerning. You were specific in your directive to the computer for a crew cut.
As this went on, several small thimble like devices were placed onto your fingertips and toes, which groomed the nails to an appropriate length. Nail polish was allowed in the uniform rules, but it had to be a nude or french design. The reason that thought popped into your head was because when the thimbles removed themselves from your fingers, you noticed that your fingers, and your toes had been painted in that style, and left slightly longer than your fingertips.
This broke you out of your fog and you became acutely aware of everything that had occurred. You didn't even notice the helmet remove itself, revealing long hair styled in a feminine bun sitting on top of your head because you were focused on the previous rooms.
"Preparation for dressing sequence complete, Commander." the computer stated.
"It thinks... I'm Commander Paterson..." you said. "But that means..."
You jumped up from the chair and started looking at your body, before the computer brought it's arms out to sit you back down.
"Commander, grooming is not yet complete. Makeup palette has not been applied." the computer said.
"Computer! Stop! You have made an error! I am not Commander Patterson!" you shouted. "I am Technician Messel."
The computer paused for a moment.
"Commander Jeanne Patterson was first to be awoken. Complying with her pre-hibernation directives." the computer said.
"She wasn't woken up first! I am not!" you started to shout, but your face was suddenly bombarded by makeup products.
It might be the future, but makeup was still around, and Commander Patterson was known for liking a distinct look. Once the computer finished and pulled away, you had time to think for a moment, before the computer descended a large mirror. You looked into it, barely recognizing yourself. Between the tight outfit, the hair, nails, and makeup, your own mother wouldn't recognize you.
"Computer! Cease activities. You have a fault, I must repair the fault!" you shouted.
"ERROR. The computer stated. Directives state all crew must undergo medical checkup before return to duty following hibernation procedures." the computer stated. "Step back on the conveyor, or you will be placed there."
You knew better than to argue with the AI. These things were notorious for following orders to the letter, just not usually this much. You sighed and stepped onto the conveyor, before the arms momentarily lifted you up to place a pair of slightly heeled boots onto your feet.
The conveyor went into the next room, which was...
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