Awakenings

He slowly opened one crusty eyelid, struggling to focus on his blurred surroundings. He could feel the thump-thump-thump of his pulse pounding out its amplified drumbeat on his right temple. "Helluva hangover," he thought bleakly.

With his right eye still closed, he managed to dispel the visual fuzziness with a deliberate squint. His left eye then proceeded to scan the room in periscope fashion.

The room was not much to behold. The walls were bare and painted white. Plain white linens covered his lower body and the bed on which he lay. The blond wood furniture was virtually empty. The lighting for the room was undoubtedly artificial - there were no windows in the room.

"Where the hell am I?" he thought, struggling to remember the events of the night before. In the midst of this brief mental quest, a loud beeping sound halted his thought process. He quickly opened his right eye, turning it to the far right side of the room in search of the source of the noise.

Standing in the far right corner of the room, with tubes and wires that reached across the bare floor tiles to the bed, was a bulky electronic machine. It featured a myriad of lights, buttons and switches. A trio of red lights were blinking in rhythm to the electronic beeping sound.

"What in the world...?" he exclaimed. At that moment, a tall, heavyset woman dressed in white scrubs rushed into the room.

He could only see her eyes and the edges of her face, as her nose and mouth were covered by an odd diamond-shaped white mask. The mask was lined with metallic nodes and projected a 3-D image in an eerie green light. In the midst of the green image were three red lights, pulsing to the rhythm of the beeps from the far right corner of the room.

"Mr. Katameros, you're awake!" she shouted. "How do you feel?"

That was the moment it struck him - the knowledge that he had no idea who he was. "Mr. Kata... Katameros?" he inquired.

"Yes. Adam Katameros."

"But - but - who are you? And what am I doing here?"

"I'm Nurse Thompson. And you're the first beneficiary of the Methuselah Solution."

"The Methuselah what?" There was a tremor in his voice, and his hands began to shake with visible frustration.

"Settle down, Mr. Katameros - all in due time. For now, you just need to rest. It's been a long journey."

"A long journey? From where?"

"Not from where - from when."

* * * * *

"What... what the hell are you talking about?" He stared at her, bewilderment in his eyes, anger on his furrowed brow. He propped himself up on one elbow to better engage the discussion with her.

For the better part of thirty seconds, she made no attempt to answer him. Finally, she replied, "I think you'd better speak with Dr. Radcliffe. I'll make arrangements for her to visit you at the first opportunity."

"What did you mean by - a journey from when?" He made no attempt to hide his contempt. "You and this doctor aren't going to feed me some load of crap about time travel, are you?"

"Nothing like that, Mr. Katameros. At least - not exactly..."

Now the thump-thump-thump in his right temple was matched by a hammering sensation at the back of his head. "What - exactly?

"I think it's best if Dr. Radcliffe fills in the details. You've been through a lot. You're sure you don't remember...?"

"Lady, if I remembered, I wouldn't be asking you to explain. I figure I must have really tied one on last night, judging by the jackhammer pounding inside my skull. I don't remember much of anything from last night. Or any other night, for that matter..."

"Dr. Radcliffe was concerned that amnesia would accompany the procedure, at least initially..."

"The procedure? I've had some sort of surgery?"

"Not in the traditional sense. At least not from the tradition of your time."

"Here we go again! My time? What in the name of God are you talking about?" The pounding in his skull was reaching epic proportions. For a moment, he thought he would faint.

"Your surgery was a newer procedure - one you wouldn't be familiar with. It made it possible for us to test the Methuselah Solution."

"Now we're spinning in circles! Why don't you just throw me on a merry-go-round and spin me until I vomit? That'll accomplish about as much as the worthless explanations you're giving me."

"A 'merry-go-round'? I'm sorry, Mr. Katameros; now you're the one who needs to explain."

He stared at her once again with his crusty, bleary right eye. His left eye winced with a migraine throb that encompassed his consciousness. And now the spinning seemed to become physical rather than metaphorical.

He lay his head back on the pillow. His eyes were fixed on a point on the ceiling, the axis of the room's apparent movement. Consciousness was slipping away. He saw a look of concern in the woman's eyes as one of the red lights on her eerie green mask began to flicker. The red light blinked off completely just as the room turned to black.

* * * * *

"Ah, there you go," murmured a soothing feminine voice. "Adam, where are you?"

Katameros slowly opened his eyes. An attractive woman's face leaned in toward his, a look of tenderness warming her eyes, a gentle smile curling the corner of her lip.

He peered slowly around the recovery room where he was now situated. "I'm on this gurney," he rasped with a crooked smile.

The faint crows-feet at the edges of her eyes crinkled with the smile that his humour elicited. He noted the contrast of her cool steel-gray eyes with the warmth of her lush, rose-coloured lips. Her close-cropped hair had been vividly highlighted, creating almost a halo effect. He pegged her as mid-thirties, self-assured, vibrant, used to being in control.

"Can you sit up? Perhaps you'd like to take a walk with me..." her voice trailed off.

"Who are you?" he asked as he grasped the sides of the gurney and pushed his torso upright, his legs still horizontal.

"Eve Radcliffe. I'm your doctor. I performed the procedure that brought you back."

"Brought me back? You mean I died on the table?"

"Not exactly."

"Not this evasiveness crap again. What the hell happened to me?!" His eyes were once again ablaze with anger and frustration.

"Let's walk, Adam. I'll explain everything." She eased his legs off the gurney and helped him stand. "Here, hold on to my arm until you're steady," she offered as his legs momentarily buckled.

They trudged down the whitewashed corridor, Adam's hand on Dr. Radcliffe's arm, until they reached a steel door with no handle. "Exit, Radcliffe with patient Katameros!" exclaimed the woman. The door slid open to reveal a bright outdoor patio beyond. The pair walked through, one at a time, Dr. Radcliffe leading the way while holding his hand.

* * * * *

The white cast iron patio furniture reflected the dazzling sunshine of a clear and balmy spring day. Katameros felt the urge to shield his eyes from the sunlight as they sat, but resisted so that he could look his doctor in the eye. He needed truth, and he believed he could discern it more readily with full eye contact. He motioned with his hand for her to lead the conversation.

"Where should I start?" she asked.

"Where any pitcher's nightmare starts - at the big inning..." His crooked smile showed her that he was joking, but the reference escaped her. She regarded his swings of mood from frustration to humour and back as perhaps another by-product of the procedure.

"Big inning?" she queried.

"Yeah - baseball, you know. 'Big inning' - a pun for 'beginning'? Not a sports fan, eh?"

"Sports, yes, especially air polo - but baseball? Never heard of it..."

"Holy sh**, you've led a sheltered life. I can understand never playing it - but never heard of it?"

"Must have been before my time," she muttered.

"The time thing again, " he answered. "Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do!"

"Lucy? 'Splainin'?"

"Before your time as well, and before mine, but I can remember the I Love Lucy reruns..."

"Reruns? What are reruns?"

"Let's not go there. Just tell me what the hell's going on. Where am I? And what's happened to me?"

Dr. Radcliffe drew in a deep breath. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" she asked with a worried expression.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Okay, it's like this," she began. "You're a patient at the WCNMS. That's an acronym for the World Center for Nanomedicine and the Methuselah Solution. We're sort of like a global hospital, only our medical efforts are directed at one specific goal."

"The Methuselah Solution?"

"Exactly. You've heard of Methuselah from the Bible?"

"Yeah, the old fart who lived the longest. Something like 969 years."

"Right. According to Genesis, people used to typically live more than 900 years. Then came Noah and the ark. The flood wiped out everyone except Noah and his family, and all the animal kingdom except the pairs on the ark."

"But isn't the flood just an old wives' tale?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Many people of faith don't think so. I don't think so. I've found fossils of sea life while hiking in the mountains, more than a thousand miles from the nearest ocean."

"But couldn't that just be from the primordial slime of prehistoric evolution?"

"Again - maybe, maybe not. But if the Noah story is true - and particularly if the story of his ancient predecessors is true, then something in the human gene pool fundamentally changed soon after the flood."

"Changed?" he asked.

"Within three generations after Noah, the average life span had shrunk from 900 years to less than 100 years. One would guess that it had something to do with the vastly shrunken gene pool that existed after all but Noah's family were wiped out. Apparently, Noah had a genetic defect, at least compared to the general population before the flood." The doctor waited to make sure Katameros was still with her.

"But what does this all have to do with this hospital?" he questioned.

"That life span differential between 900 years and 100 or less years is huge. And if it's related to genetics, it's quite possible that something can be done... to bridge the gap."

She paused to gauge his reaction. His eyes narrowed, and he could no longer hold her gaze. He looked upward toward the cobalt sky. "You mean..."

"We've been working on genetic engineering to alter the aging process, directed at recapturing the relevant gene structure that existed when people had a life span of close to a thousand years. Plain and simple." She again waited to fathom his reaction.

His gaze returned from the firmament to fix on hers. He spoke slowly, deliberately. "So - what does that have to do with me?"

"You're our first - let me find a way to put this delicately..."

"Guinea pig?"

"I think I've heard the historical reference. Does that mean 'test subject'?"

"Of course. What do you mean by 'historical' reference?"

"I mean we don't use guinea pigs as test subjects any more. And we haven't for so long that the antiquated reference has fallen out of use for many decades."

"The time thing again. Now I'm really confused..."

"You see, the development of the Methuselah Solution is only half the story behind WCNMS."

"Half the story?"

"Yes. We have one goal - delivering the Methuselah Solution - but with the regulatory environment we're in, we have a secondary means of reaching the goal."

"What regulatory environment?"

"With regard to testing. The Global Council will not allow testing on live human subjects for the genetic engineering involved in the Methuselah Solution. It's considered too dangerous. That's where the 'nanomedicine' in our name - the 'N' in our WCNMS acronym - comes in." She smiled weakly, not sure how to proceed.

He spared her the need. "So 'nanomedicine' is for genetic engineering on small laboratory animals - presumably ones other than guinea pigs?"

"No, not at all. It's molecular level medicine, geared toward humans, not small laboratory animals. One of the things we do with nanomedicine is to develop and deploy medical nanorobots that repair the body from the inside - and we've even used them to alter genetic structures."

"So there are tiny robots that swim around inside a person's body in order to fix or enhance it?" he asked doubtfully.

"In very simple terms, yes," she replied, "but in the case of the Methuselah Solution, they're not used on live human subjects - only dead ones."

* * * * *

"What the f***?" He stared open-mouthed, stunned. Finally recovering, he asked, "I'm the 'first beneficiary of the Methuselah Solution'! Are you saying that I'm dead?"

"Were dead," she corrected, "but you gave your consent to being a 'guinea pig' for the Methuselah Solution - or at least the arcane version of it - before you died. As did thousands and thousands of your generation and the several generations that followed. Which gave us a neat solution to the problem of not being allowed to genetically engineer live human subjects. We did it while you were dead, using molecular medical technology. If it works on you and enough of your counterparts, without significant side effects, we can seek Global Council approval for testing it on live human subjects. We will have reached the holy grail of medicine. No more short-term medical solutions that only prolong the inevitable to a cap of a hundred or so years. We can stretch the boundaries from a hundred to a thousand years - to provide virtual immortality."

Adam's brain was now on overload. He shook his head rapidly and blew out a few breaths slowly, trying not hyperventilate. "You're saying I've been dead, and now am alive, genetically engineered to live a thousand additional years?"

"Or more. The sky's the limit. We know that medical technology and environmental conditions now are vastly superior to those of Methuselah's day, and that 969 years is low compared to what it could easily be. Maybe two thousand years, maybe more."

"How long was I - dead?"

"Eighty-nine years. You went in 2026; it's now 2115."

"That's a helluva long time. Why didn't I rot away?"

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

At that moment, their conversation was interrupted by the sounds of voices shouting from beyond the courtyard walls. Dr. Radcliffe took Katameros' hand once again, stood up, and said, "Let's get you out of here. You're going to need some spiritual counsel, and this isn't the place to get it."

* * * * *

Katameros found himself being led down another corridor toward another door. Dr. Radcliffe picked up two pairs of sunglasses along the way, from a desk that was positioned at one of the hallway crossroads.

"Those for shading our eyes from that bright sunlight?" Adam queried nonchalantly.

"Not really. They're so we can go where we need to go without being recognized. I'm also going to change out of my scrubs. You'll need to do the same. There should be some street clothes for you in the locker over there. You can use the nurse's rest room behind the desk to change. I'll pop into my office and be right back."

Katameros found a pair of jeans made from a material he didn't recognize. It was softer than denim but quite sturdy, showing no signs of wear when he accidentally caught the pants leg on the locker's handle. He dressed slowly in the jeans, one leg at a time, after putting on a pair of jockey shorts, tube socks, and a yellow silk-like shirt whose material again defied definitive identification.

He stepped out of the rest room and saw Dr. Radcliffe, almost beautiful in a floral print spring dress that clung to her curves in all the right places. He reminded himself that she was his doctor and that he had been dead for 89 years, though his attraction to her made him feel undeniably alive.

"Let's get out of here," she gently commanded, once again taking his hand.

She handed him a pair of sunglasses as the rear exit door opened upon her voice command. They strolled together from the hospital toward the sidewalk, by all outward appearances a couple out to enjoy the lovely weather of a spring day.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they turned a corner to the left. He heard shouts echoing from the opposite direction, apparently from the front of the building they had exited.

"St. Ignatius Church, just a couple of blocks away. Sorry it's Roman Catholic; I remember from your file that you're Greek Orthodox, but there aren't any of those around here."

"I never was a religious man, anyway - at least I don't think so. Why are we going to a church?"

"To see Father Brown. He's a bit of an oddity, but I think he can help you. He's more mystic than Catholic priest. I go to him when I need spiritual counsel."

Within minutes, they were climbing the steps of the weathered and apparently ancient cathedral. The cornerstone showed a date of 2012. The sound of shouts grew louder from behind them.

Inside, their eyes adjusted from the brilliance of the sun to the dark reverence of the vestibule. A short, round-faced man with white hair, dressed in a black outfit with a clerical collar, approached them with a whispered greeting. His disarming smile and twinkling eyes made Adam feel immediately at ease.

"This is the one I was telling you about, Father," confided Dr. Radcliffe.

"Ah, yes - Sleeping Beauty," grinned the priest.

"They're still telling that story?" asked Katameros.

"A classic. Though the means of conveying stories has been greatly altered from your time. But let's not get into that now. We have bigger fish to fry. Almost as big as the ones Jesus fried on the beach with his apostles after His resurrection."

"Speaking of resurrection, I have a lot of questions..."

"Quite to be expected," replied Father Brown, "especially from a man who never walked on water. At least I don't suppose you did..."

"I don't remember anything I did. I have no answers - only questions. Like how I was dead for 89 years and now I'm not. Um - I'm not, am I?"

"In the physical sense? No. You are alive and quite corporeal, as are the lovely doctor and I."

"So how did I not rot in the grave? I mean, eighty-nine years is a lot longer than three days."

"Ah, I see you have no recollection of the events precipitating your current state of unusual affairs. Perhaps the good doctor would be willing to recount the history." He pointed to the sanctuary, and led them to a pew where they sat in a row, a body's width of space between each. Katameros was in the center, with Dr. Radcliffe to his right and Father Brown to his left.

"You were one of the early policyholders of the Cryonic Life Insurance Company," began Dr. Radcliffe. "Cryonic Life was the first insurance company to stumble on to the idea of providing a life insurance benefit that helps the person who died, rather than helping their survivors."

"Helps a dead person?"

"Right," interjected the priest, "Prior to that, life insurance buyers needed somewhat of an altruistic motive to induce the purchase. They never saw a dollar of their life insurance proceeds themselves, but rather it was paid to their survivors. But Cryonic Life, in the tradition of their capitalistic forebears, found a way to exploit the innate selfishness of the common man."

"How so?" asked Katameros.

"Well," continued Dr. Radcliffe, "as the name of the company implies, it's based on cryonics. It involves a process whereby a recently deceased person's body is frozen at very low temperatures, with the hope that healing and resuscitation may be possible with future technology. And the future is now."