Time to Think

“Welcome, dear lady! I hope the journey wasn’t too tiresome?”

Dr. O’Reilly sat behind an antique desk. Late 21st century; the multi-colored, recycled plastic design iconic of that era. It was as reassuring to his patients as the many framed diplomas on the wall behind him.

Mrs. Ericcson sat down primly, removing her gloves and raising the air purification mesh from her face, like a bride lifting her veil. She was a beautiful woman, with dark curls that fell to her shoulders. Her forehead was smooth, and there were none of the skin lesions he saw in his less affluent clients, so she must live in a fancy compound, with sun filters and UV protection. He wondered why someone with that kind of privileged lifestyle would require his services.

“The airport was unnerving.” Mrs. Ericsson told him. “All those poor people outside clamoring to be let in, and only a handful of them with gas masks or heatsuits on. It quite breaks one’s heart to see them! They were beating against the side of our vehicle, throwing rocks and bottles. But once we reached the shuttle dock it went smoothly.”

“Well, you’re safely here now, Mrs. Eriksson. Can I tell you more about our procedure? I’m happy to answer any questions you have before we begin, I know it is such a big decision.”

“Very kind of you, Doctor. I’ve booked your premium package, of course. And I wish to pre-book my family’s procedures too, for the end of the school year. My husband still has some business to wrap up before they join me, but I see no sense in prolonging the inevitable for myself.”

“Of course, of course. We aren’t any of us getting younger, are we?” He chuckled. “Well, the premium package is very exclusive. You’ll be in the first-class facility, where your vitals will be checked by humans five times a day.” He laced his chubby fingers together, beaming at her over his half-moon glasses. An affectation, of course – glasses had long been obsolete. Eccentricity was a sign of genius, he’d read that somewhere, and like all good conmen he knew how to strike the right balance between quirky and serious.

“I read all the details on the flight, I think I’d rather just get it over with” Mrs. Ericsson said, rising to her feet.

“Excellent. No time like the present…” A coughing fit overcame him, his face turning a mottled purple as he spluttered up a fine spray of blood with gooey, black flecks into his handkerchief.

“Excuse me - just a bout of Subway Lung, from my days as a poor medical student. I came here a few years before the habitat was finished over Manhattan, and as you may remember, conditions were rather dismal at that time.”

“I can imagine! How awful for you.”

“Yes. Of course, one of the best things about voluntary stasis is the knowledge that while you are sleeping, medical technology will be advancing, and any irritating aches and pains will likely be curable when you revive.” He rang a bell on his desk and his assistant came sashaying through the door. “It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Ericsson. I wish you a peaceful slumber, and hope we meet again, in this Millenia or the next.”

* * *

“This will be your bay, Ma’am.” She was ushered into a gleaming white room, with polished marble floors and 6 stasis units on raised dais’ around the room. Each one had a shiny brass nameplate ready to be engraved. Fractal rainbows danced across the room from the large, stained glass window.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am, it’s not a real window. There’s a wall behind it, and the sunlight effect is on a cycle. Pretty, though, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Ericsson nodded. Everything was even nicer than she had expected. She changed from her elegant purple bodyglove into a plain white sleepsuit, with various wires and tubes extruding from it.

“It’s perfect. What a beautiful place to wait out the ice age.”

“Well, if you’re ready, Ma’am, the technicians are here to prep you.”

Two men walked briskly into the room, dressed in the light blue and gold uniform of the first class staff. They bowed, removing the lid of her unit and helping her inside.

“Oh my, it feels rather like a sarcophagus, doesn’t it?” She said with a nervous laugh.

“It’s more like a bed really, Ma’am. Feel the contour gel padding as it molds itself around you – isn’t it refreshing? It’s infused with aloe and eucalyptus to keep your skin fresh and supple.”

“Will it hurt? When you inject the fluid?” She looked concerned, and he hoped they would not have to pin her down like the last client.

“You’ll barely notice the injection, and when the fluid enters it will be pleasantly cool. Lie back and relax; when we close the lid you can enjoy the presentation Dr. O’Reilly put together to help you settle in. Before it finishes, you’ll be fast asleep without a care in the world.”

Mrs. Ericsson reminded herself that she was not a coward, and untensed her muscles as she felt the prick in her arm. The drug was freezing, and she shivered as the technicians lowered the lid in place above her, fighting the urge to try and escape.

Then the video started up, and she relaxed a little. There was the generously proportioned doctor, standing in his familiar office, beaming proudly.

“If you are watching this, then let me congratulate you on selecting our superior stasis unit. As a first-class client, you will receive special attention as you undertake your journey into the future with us. Soon you will fall asleep. After that everything is automated, but you will be checked on regularly. Our team of dedicated technicians are paid handsomely to work through the ice age, so you and your loved ones don’t have to.

In very rare circumstances the sedation doesn’t take full effect, and it is for that reason that your first few days with us will be spent under heightened observation, in case we need to change your dosage. You are in safe hands, and we at Ark Stasis Incorporated wish you pleasant dreams.”

The video ended, but Mrs. Ericsson was already asleep.

***

“Is she out yet?” Bryant asked, rubbing a finger across his bristly moustache.

“Yeah, I think so. Let’s get her tubed up, then we can knock off early… you know, this one’s quite a looker. If I didn’t have a hot date lined up I’d be all over that.”

Bryant shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. “Goddamnit Larry, that’s gross. Practically necrophilia. Just help me get her rigged up and into her crate.”

The two men hauled the woman’s floppy body out onto a gurney. They worked swiftly, Bryant inserting the catheter and lower tubes while Larry fed the support tube down her throat. They transferred her to a far smaller, narrower stasis pod.

Larry pulled a name tag sticker from her file and slapped it on her unit.

“Ha! First-class, lady, hope you like it,” he laughed bitterly. “Can you believe how much they pay for this shit? Costs more a day than what we earn in a month. I’d love to see their faces if they knew the truth.” A hacking cough racked his body, and he spat blood onto the ground.

“Will we take her back to the observation room?” Bryant asked.

“Nah… it’s nearly six o’clock. If we head down there Esther will be all up in our faces, yabbering on, and we’ll never get out. Let’s just put her in the warehouse with the others.”

“What if the Bossman asks to see her notes? She’s meant to be on obs…”

“He never checks that stuff. I’ll type it up tomorrow, god knows I’ve faked enough of them over the years. Nah, we’re done here, let’s wheel her down to the meat locker.”

The maintenance elevator was noisy. The ceiling light flickered on and off in a creepy way, making Bryant shudder. He hated going down to the basement levels, with room after room of stacked units, like some kind of high-tech mass grave.

They got out on level L9, heading for the third set of double doors on the left. Some joker had placed a paper sign on the door with a picture of a crown and “1st Class Quarters” written underneath.

The room was already half full, floor to ceiling, ten units high. Bryant set about attaching the various tubes to the mains supply and checking the electronic panel. Everything looked good, and he took a last look at Mrs. Ericsson’s face through the window.

“Her eyelids are flickering, is that okay?” He asked the more experienced Larry.

Larry nodded. “Yeah, It’s REM isn’t it? You know, she’s probably dreaming of lying out by her pool with some poor sod waiting on her hand and foot. Alright for some.” He pushed the shelf back into the rack and headed out the door. He didn’t raise his eyes to look at the bricked-up doorway near the end of corridor, even though he could see Bryant staring at it.

“Why’s that bit blocked off?” Bryant asked as he tried to catch up with Larry.

“Shhhh! We aren’t supposed to talk about it, they made us sign waivers and gave us hush money to shut us up. There was a power outage a few years back, and they lost a whole meatlocker. 1,000 units. Can you imagine? The company would go bankrupt if it leaked, there’s supposed to be all kinds of back-ups to prevent that sort of thing. Anyhow, there was no good way to dispose of all those bodies without people noticing and asking questions, so they had us technicians empty the units for re-use and dump all the clients on the floor. Then they just… bricked it up. Like it was never there. Scary, huh? I don’t like thinking about it, all them skeletons rotting away back there, without anyone even knowing they’re dead.”

They reached the elevator and Bryant made a mental note to avoid L9 at all costs in future.

* * *

Mrs. Ericsson woke up. She was lying on a lightly cushioned surface, staring up at the nothingness above her. She could sense the walls pressing against her arms and legs. The ceiling was impossibly low. Her chest was heavy, the air in here felt viscous and treacly, filling her lungs. Was this what drowning felt like?

She blacked out.

* * *

Larry lined the Ericsson children between the stacks, their units varying in size from largest to smallest like a macabre set of Russian dolls. He was just about to go back up for the father when Bryant cursed loudly and called him over.

“Jesus Larry, look! Her stats are all over the place, oh fuck, look at the data screen! We screwed up man, she’s not unconscious! Hasn’t been for the last six months!”

Larry strode over, calling into a comms unit on his wrist for the doctor to come immediately to Room 15 on the L9. He peered through the slightly dusty viewing window.

“She’s staring at me!”

The men struggled with the heavy lid, throwing it aside, unplugging all the tubes.

“Her hair, Larry… didn’t she have dark hair? Almost black, I’m sure of it. What in hell happened to her?”

Larry was too busy yanking the tube from her throat to notice. He tried hard to avoid the silent scream in those icy blue eyes as he injected the anti-paralysis meds.

“What’s going on down here?” Dr. O’Reilly waddled into the room, a frown creasing his brow.

“It’s the Ericsson woman, sir. She’s been conscious this whole time! The drugs didn’t work properly. We’ve given her the revival dosage, she should be snapping out of it any mome…”

Mrs. Ericsson sat bolt upright, gasping and heaving as she threw up over the side of her stasis pod. Her eyes darted wildly around, taking in the stacks of units, the dark rows stretching as far as she could see. Her once black curls were now whiter than her skin, and she looked a decade older.

“You! Yoooooouuuuu!” She wailed, trying to get up, but falling back as her weakened limbs failed her. ”What did you do to me? Where are my children?”

Bryant glanced over at the 4 smaller units, and Mrs. Ericsson followed his gaze and shrieked.

“My children! You can’t do this to them! You mustn’t! Please! Save us! Please Doctor, you have to let us go home!” She fell forward over the side of the unit, crying hysterically as she tried to pull herself across the floor towards him.

The doctor looked over at Larry, pressing his lips together tightly. He tilted his head slightly and blinked hard, passing some unspoken message to the technician. Larry took out a syringe, sinking the needle into Mrs. Ericsson’s thigh, and she slumped forward, her screams cut off.

“Well, that’s quite enough excitement for one day, I think.” The doctor took off his glasses, rubbing the lens with a polka dot handkerchief.

“What will we do now, boss? Should we take her to the recovery ward? What about the kids? Her husband’s all prepped too, we were about to bring him down.” Bryant was shaken, trying to process the chaos in front of him.

“Recovery ward? And have her sue us? I don’t think so, lads. No, think how this would look to our potential clients. We’d be shut down for sure.”

“So… then what?” Confusion filled Bryant’s eyes and he fiddled nervously with his moustache.

“I think it’s best you put her back into stasis, don’t you? Stack her up with the rest of her family and forget about this whole mess. After all, in a thousand year’s time, it’ll be somebody else’s problem.”

“You can’t mean that, sir! We already know the sedatives don’t work on her. She could be awake down here in the dark the whole time! And her kids, what if it’s hereditary?”

The doctor sighed, noting Larry had already lifted her back into the unit, and was busy pushing a new support tube down her throat. “I think a Millenia of being left in the dark with only her own thoughts for company will rather take care of that problem for us. In the mean-time lads, it’s time for your annual reviews. Bonuses are in order, don’t you think?”

* * *

Mrs. Ericsson lay in the quiet and the gloom of the stacks, listening as they placed her family on the shelves above her. As the door clanged shut, entombing her again, tears shimmered in her unmoving eyes.