The Reincarnation

David was staring, amused, at an advertisement in Rolling Stone:

Pythagoras

Leonardo Da Vinci

Thomas Edison

Mahatma Gandhi

Albert Einstein

If you’re still eating meat,

you must know something they didn’t.

Go vegetarian.

“Well, well, well, I hear you’re ready to run a mile.” Dr. Persey quickly crossed the room to David’s bed. David put the magazine aside.

“Yeah, it’s all flowing back to me now, Jack. I’m beginning to feel whole again.” David was clean shaven, and beaming.

“That is good news. Think you’re up to the press yet?” Dr. Persey sounded anxious.

“I said I’m feeling better, not that I want to feel worse.” David attempted to sound humorous.

“That’s okay, I’d like to get some meat on your bones before I get you on television. They’ll think I’m starving you. We’re still looking at Monday for that sandwich, but maybe tomorrow. We’ll see how you feel in the morning.”

“What about the films, Jack, can I start watching them tonight?”

“Sure, the machine can be brought in. You should probably get some sleep, though.”

“Well, how about one? After that I’ll get some sleep.”

“All right.” Dr. Persey looked at David nervously. “Have you been remembering any more about your past?”

“Lots, and then lots again. I feel like I’m living my life all over again as the memories come back to me.”

“Anything from right before you were vitrified?” Dr. Persey’s nervousness became more apparent.

“Not yet. I’m sure it will come in time.”

“Yes, Dave, thanks to you, we have all the time in the world –”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll have the technician come in and hook you up.”

Like most technologies, the “films” bore the woefully inadequate moniker of their ancient predecessor. They weren’t any more “films” than the surround-sound home entertainment center David had once owned was a “Hi-Fi” or a “radio.”

The technician placed a device that looked like a cross between a pair of sunglasses and a television on David’s head. Placing a glove on his right hand, the technician showed David how to operate it.

David was tired, but wanted to see at least some of the film. As the events unraveled before his eyes, he was reminded of the time he had gone to the Smithsonian theater in Washington, D.C. They had a huge viewing screen at one of the museums, and played half-hour films on topics like space, flying, and Hawaii. The one David remembered seeing was about the rainforest.

The theater was filled with young children on a class trip. A boy behind David was watching a part of the movie where some workers chopped down a tree that was older than everyone in the theater combined. All the boy could do to try to stop this atrocity was to keep repeating “No, no, no” as the tree left its place among the canopy, crashed through the forest, and slammed into the ground, taking a few of its neighbors with it.

As David watched the film, his mind repeated the same monosyllabic chant until he passed out.