Since my Reawakening there’s been a lot for me to get my head around, even after all this time here. There’s the fact of it being two whole centuries later. The discovery that cryopreservation does work after all. And then there’s my illness, or lack thereof – I’m completely cured. The tumours, the yellowing skin, the painful, inevitable decline … No more.
I’m not sure I’ve gotten my head around that last one just yet.
I’ve also learned that things in the distance look smaller than they are. When the glass door slides open with a gentle shush, taking with it its embossed proclamation – Earth: Room 3 – two armchairs appear opposite me, woollen blankets folded neatly over the backs of them. The chairs are small only because they’re further away. After months of medical support my brain makes sense of this ‘depth perception’ automatically.
Inside the circular room books line the walls in a sweeping arc. I reach out a finger, expecting it to pass right through. I’ve grown accustomed to the love here for Immersive Reality. Ocean scenes, forest settings, massive canyons – you name it, this place is loaded with them. And it would be fitting to arrange something just for me, a mind-relic from my Time Before.
But my finger taps a leather spine. I pull the book out, open it and breathe in the scent of paper, ink, leather binding. I trace the words, wishing they would rise up and dance beneath my fingertips. The thrill is exhilarating. I can’t recall much about my Time Before but I sure as Shakespeare remember books.
I frown, return the book to its shelf, then tighten my hands into fists before releasing them, shaking them out. Alia said the anxiety would wear off but it shows no signs of that. I concentrate on my breathing, as we practiced. Any moment now Alia will join me, introduce me to my Guide. For six whole months my Guide will live with me in my new home, sleeping on a camper bed in the living room. Helping me adapt to this new world.
But I’m still adjusting. It’s too soon.
I walk over to the massive globe window and stand inside its curve of glass. Hundreds of dim lights twinkle back at me: buttercup-yellows, Earth-sky-blues, sorbet-pinks, mint-greens, lavender-purples. They nestle in the thick snow covering the white-marbled mountainside.
I can’t get over the colours. I constantly squeeze my eyes shut in this place to check I’m not dreaming – but even if I was asleep, I could never conjure dreams like this. Or at least, not before my Reawakening.
There’s the shush of the door behind me and I turn my head. Alia smiles as she walks over, her long hair plaited and pinned.
‘It is beautiful,’ she says, and I glance back out the window.
‘I’m going to be a stranger out there. I won’t know anyone. And no one will know me.’
Alia raises a hand to my shoulder, squeezes it gently. ‘Every Reawakened feels this way. Hardly anyone is cryopreserved with people they know. But Reawakeneds are seen as miracles. You will be very welcomed.’
We’ve discussed this all before but even so – ‘I’m different from them.’
Alia gazes at me. ‘You have your own story but so does everyone else.’ She gestures towards the chairs. ‘Let’s sit.’
I settle into one of the armchairs while Alia lifts a teapot and pours a pale amber liquid. A fragrant medley of mint, rose and honey fills the air. I lean forward, a small coil of joy unwinding inside me: the teapot is Moroccan. I know it without even needing to trace my fingers over the pot-bellied base, the long spout. I fight the urge to say – ‘this is from Morocco.’ Alia wouldn’t know what I mean. Or maybe she would know, but only because others have said it, or because she’s learned it from somewhere, and she’ll give me that gentle smile that says, of course it is, but it also isn’t, not anymore.
‘How are you feeling about meeting your Guide?’
The joy flattens. ‘Mmmf,’ I say, taking the cup from Alia. I’ve never been good at meeting new people.
Alia rummages in her bag to the side of the chair and brings out a Visualiser.
‘I can show you your new home now. It’s not far from here. You’ll be coming back regularly for check-ups, so we’ll still see each other. And you’ll be living in a Circle with other Reawakeneds.’
The Visualiser casts the image of my home into the air and I put my cup down before taking control of it, gesturing with my hands this way and that. It’s everything I’ve come to expect: a front room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. Each home here is the same: soft white carpeting, softly glowing lights, a large globe window.
‘You’ll have the things you brought with you.’
I glance up. ‘I thought my money had been returned to the state?’
She nods. ‘It’s true that we no longer have individual money. We exist as equals. But you have the things you set aside, do you remember? Like your books.’
Excitement thrums through me and I grin so stupidly Alia laughs, then glances up at the sound of the door opening.
‘It’s time to meet your Guide.’
My stomach flip-flops but there’s no way of protesting. Alia is already standing, the door is opening. I pull myself out of my chair.
A wiry woman strides in, blonde hair cut short, the ends curling up. Her large brown eyes seem to size me up in a single moment and suddenly she’s close to me, her palm waiting for mine to press against it in greeting. I hesitate, raise my palm to hers and she grins broadly, turns to greet Alia in the same way.
‘This is Apex,’ Alia says.
I try to smile but swallow hard instead, take a step back so my heel hits the chair and I almost fall over.
Apex tilts her head to the side, lifts an eyebrow at Alia. ‘Should we …?’
Alia nods, and Apex turns back to the door. Is it over? Did they realise I’m not ready?
‘Apex has someone you might remember,’ Alia says.
She stands next to me, pulls my hand into her own. My mind races: there’s no one I can think of. I was born an orphan, raised in foster home after foster home, no one equipped to look after me … and during the long illness, whoever I thought might be a friend never visited. And that was the end of it. Or it would’ve been, if I’d not won my shot at life after life, thanks to the Cryopreservation Lottery.
A hacking sound cuts through the silence. My head jerks up: surely … but no. It can’t be. My eyes flit about the room as I try to make sense of what I’ve heard, the sound I still hear in my dreams. Try to pull myself away from the memory that’s washed over me. This is another life, I tell myself sternly.
Apex reappears, but just as she approaches a blond apparition rushes past her, racing towards me. I cry out, fall back into the chair. The apparition leaps up at me, then returns to the floor, barking, twisting in circles, jumping up at me again. I stare, mouth agape, eyes wide. I know him … I reach out a hand. But it can’t be.
‘Your dog, Monty,’ Alia says.
She kneels down at the side of the chair and Monty sits, allows her to stroke his head, his ears. He tips his head back and grins. He’s more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.
‘He was your guide dog, right? Well, now you’ve Reawakened, and you have sight, you can see him for the first time. We thought, what better Guide than the one that guided you before.’
I sit on the floor, stare at my old friend. The world, with all its colour, pools together and blurs. I wipe my eyes, then stroke Monty’s familiar face, his neck.
‘But how –’
‘He passed away just after you did,’ Alia says. ‘He was cryopreserved, an experiment really. He is our first Reawakened Dog. So he’s very special.’
Apex has lowered her hands to her knees, watching us. ‘They live decades now, dogs. In your time, they lived not very long, no?’
Her brown eyes hold mine for a second, and it’s as if I’m falling into them, being held by them. Her expression softens into a smile.
‘It is good, yes?’
I laugh. It’s the first time I’ve laughed since my Reawakening.
‘And you will be my Guide too?’
She nods. ‘Yes. I live with you for a while, make sure you do okay. You and Monty. That good?’
I grin, feel my cheeks flush warm.
‘That is good,’ I say.