“How are you feeling today Mr. Lowry? Up for a chat yet?” The tall, bronze-skinned doctor positioned himself next to Lowry’s bed, hopeful expression on his face. Lowry nodded as best as he was able.

“I guess so,” he croaked. It was difficult to speak. “I’m still in a lot of pain and I’m not exactly sure where I am or what’s going on. Everything’s really… fuzzy. Can’t think.”

“Here,” said the doctor, holding out a plastic cup and inserting the straw between Lowry’s lips. “Take a sip or two of this; it will help your throat. Let us start with introductions, shall we? My name is Dr. Balde, and I’ve been placed in charge of your case. You are in the hospital, as I’m sure you have already gathered. Now then, take a minute to think about this and tell me; what is the last thing you remember?”

Lowry pondered. “I believe it was… being frozen? Yes, I was frozen.”

“Good, good,” said Balde. “That is absolutely correct. You are one of the many people who signed themselves up for Cryogenic Suspension due to a terminal illness. By any chance do you recall what your particular affliction was?”

“Cancer. I had cancer.”

“Spot on again! It looks like the damage to your memory centers is not going to be as severe as the original Cryogenic service predicted when you were put under.” Balde smiled. “So now we reach the crux of the matter. Ordinarily when someone, say a coma victim, has been ‘out of it’ for a very long time, we try to do a slow, easy transition back into things. The loss of a large block of time can be a traumatic experience. With you however, circumstances are a bit unique. You went into suspension willingly, anticipating that you would not reawaken until some distant future, when a cure had been found for the disease that was taking your life. Anticipating that time loss, in other words.”

“How long?” Lowry asked. “How long have I been gone?”

“Give or take a couple of months, it has been 647 years since you underwent the original procedure.”

Lowry blinked. Even though he’d been expecting it, he found himself having difficulty processing such a vast number. Six hundred… forty seven… years.

“My God,” he whispered. To his surprise, Dr. Balde flinched. “I’m sorry,” Lowry asked him. “Is something wrong?”

“No need to apologize, after all you couldn’t possibly know,” the doctor replied. “However, I think I should tell you that of the many things that have changed during your absence, perhaps the most important has been the doing away of all religion and associated dogma.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I am not.” Balde stroked his chin. “It occurred slowly, but it did occur. In some places it began with laws being passed prohibiting religion for the greater good, in other places people just, well, outgrew it for lack of a better word. Over time we, as a race, have passed beyond the need for it. There are, of course, still a few dangerous fringe groups that cling onto these superstitious beliefs, and they are the only sorts of people from whom one would hear a religious reference nowadays. That’s why I reacted the way I did to that word, and I apologize for that.”

“No problem. It’s just hard to believe,” Lowry said.

“Pun intended?” Balde chuckled. “In a way Mr. Lowry, you owe your resurrection to that particular fact. The great benefit of doing away with religious nonsense is that it released science from a centuries old stranglehold. Huge leaps forward were made in previously taboo fields like genetics. Stem cell research alone managed to cure almost every disease known to man from Alzheimer’s to multiple sclerosis.”

“All of them? Even cancer?”

“Yes, all of them.” Balde smiled. “Except the cold. For some reason we still can’t beat the common cold. Everything else however went by the wayside. Nobody suffers anymore. The human lifespan has been increased to nearly 185 years.”

“Incredible,” Lowry sighed. He was growing tired. “And I get to be part of it.”

“Yes, yes you do.” Balde patted his shoulder. “It’s a brave new world Mr. Lowry; welcome to it. And now if you’re ready I’ll call in the anesthetist and we can get you prepped for your first procedure.”

“I’m ready.”

Dr. Balde waved at the door and another man, this one wearing green, wheeled a small cart into the room. With the ease of long practice he began co-joining Lowry and the machinery.

Lowry managed a weak smile. “I never really believed it was going to work you know,” he said. “The freezing thing. But I was desperate. And now here I am… six hundred years in the future and I’m finally gonna be cured.”

Balde flinched again.

“Umm, doc?” Lowry sensed something was wrong. Beside him the technician finished slipping a needle into his i.v. line and began preparing a breathing mask. The Brave New World began to go soft at the edges. “Talk to me doctor. What?”

“I’m not sure how to tell you this Mr. Lowry,” Balde grimaced. “But I’m afraid you aren’t going to be cured. You see, humanity sort of ‘shot itself in the foot’ when it found the panacea. Inadvertently we opened ourselves to an entirely new host of problems. Overpopulation, starvation, the resources of the planet being consumed faster than they can be replaced. It’s standing room only out there. We need illnesses, we need diseases. We need to reintroduce genetic flaws into our stock. You, Mr. Lowry, are here to provide those for us.”

“Huhhhh?” Lowry managed.

“We are going to extract some genetic material from you, and then freeze you again.”

The mask slipped over his face.

“In case we need more from you later. You are, after all, terminal. We cannot afford to have you die.”

He fought against it, but the body always overrules the mind.

He inhaled.

“I’m sorry Mr. Lowry.”

Lowry screamed.