The Reincarnation

“Do you have any questions for me, Dave?” Dr. Persey was shining a light into David’s eyes, noting the response from his pupils.

“Well, for one, what day is it?”

“Saturday.”

“What time is it?”

“Just before noon.” David saw the doctor consult his digital time implant, conveniently located on his outer wrist.

“Where am I?”

“In the MCA Cryonics Lab.” Dr. Persey hesitated a moment, anticipating another question, then went on. “I’d like to continue monitoring your recovery for a few days, and then I could move you, if you like, to another part of the Lab.”

“How long have I been here?” David didn’t have much time to think, and asked questions that came easily.

“You’ve been out of the vitrifier for two weeks now, Dave, but you just regained consciousness last night.”

“Cryonics, Jack?” David tried to think back, but found it easier just to ask. “What is that?”

“Vitrifying – or cryonically suspending – the body, and then reviving it later.” Dr. Persey shut off the flashlight and used it to accentuate his answer, holding it like an orchestra conductor’s baton.

“In your case, you had terminal cancer, and agreed to let us vitrify you before you died. You’re living proof it works, and if you’re up to it, the press would love to talk to you. I’d love to have you talk to them, too. No one has taken us very seriously in the past, and well, you could be a great boon to the industry, if you know what I mean.” He paused. “But only if you’re up to it. I don’t need the press badgering you and wiping out twenty-five years of research by overstressing you. You’re still in critical condition as far as I’m concerned.”

“Maybe in a few days.” David still wondered what was going on, but was taking in some of what the doctor said, and understanding it, remembering it. “Why is it taking so long for me to recover?”

“I’m learning that as I go along, unfortunately. A lot of the cryoprotectants they used in the past formed ice crystals when they froze, and tore the tissues up. A whole new generation of them were tried with you way back when, and you seem to be healthy. And of course you were vitrified, not frozen, but I’m afraid these things take time. Body fat seems to cause the most trouble.”

“Good thing I’m so skinny, huh?”

“Oh yes, David. That was very convenient.” Dr. Persey looked up and to the left with a smile, like he was remembering something from the past. “Oh, and there are trillions of very tiny, well, what you would probably call robots...” He laughed. “Sorry, that term always strikes me as funny – we don’t use it anymore. Lots of tiny ‘robots’ inside you, fixing you right up as we speak.”

“Weird.” David looked at his body like it belonged to someone else, expecting to see movement under his skin.

“Don’t worry, they’ll all retire soon enough. At any rate, I’ll start you on physical therapy soon, and that should get you recovering quickly.” The doctor got off the bed and motioned to leave.

“When do I get to eat?” David asked, aware for the first time of an incredibly empty feeling inside of him.

“How hungry are you, Dave? I mean, I could take you off the IV, but I’m still not sure how well you can digest food. The intestines are quite long, and I’d like to conduct some more tests before I give the length of them the go ahead. Say, two days? Does that sound okay?”

“Sure, sure, whatever you think is best. I don’t want to be pissing blood, Jack.” David attempted to laugh, but a sighing cough came out instead. “Speaking of which...”

“Of course. I’ll send a nurse in. Take a break, Dave. See if you can remember more about your past. I’ve put some magazines on your bedstand from the time you were vitrified. They might help jog your memory – make you feel more at home.”

“Thanks, Jack. Say, can I look out a window at least? Maybe somebody could wheel me over to one or –” David painfully tried to raise himself from the bed.

“Not yet, Dave. Remember, you’re in recovery. Let’s wait a little while, okay?”

“All right. Doctor knows best.” David lay back down on the bed, relieved from the abatement of the pain.

The nurse came in and slid a bedpan under him. He had to consciously turn on the plumbing, step by step, until he heard his reward ringing in the bedpan. The urine burned as it made its way out, but he felt relieved just the same.

“Thank you, nurse,” he said as she was leaving, really seeing her for the first time, noticing her curly, auburn hair.

“Sure. And by the way,” she said, looking down at the bedpan, smiling, “it’s finally clear.” David wondered what it had been before.

David was getting drowsy, but he wanted to read. His hands were arthritic, but were capable of holding a magazine. Slowly flipping through the pages of a copy of TIME, he stopped on an article about the state of the environment. Feeling he knew a bit about the topic, he tried to read. The cryptic symbols on the page eluded him, looking like animated hieroglyphics. By concentrating, deciphering the symbols one by one, then in groups, and finally in chains, he broke the code and began to read.

It seemed that despite the efforts of some concerned people to stop the burning of the rainforests in the southern hemisphere, little could be done to stop it. TIME didn’t say why, but David knew about the fate of most rainforests, and pictured cattle grazing on the scorched earth.

Wondering how much had changed in the last twenty-five years, he put the magazine aside and fell into a restful sleep.