Wake Me In The Future (4 page)

Ankit was standing outside and his disembodied arm was protruding into the room beckoning me to follow. ‘Don’t worry,’ the front of his face said as it came back through the door, ‘pretend there’s nothing here and follow me.’

I felt absolutely nothing physically as I passed through, but emotionally I felt like a complete coward because I’d had to close my eyes. Oh well, it was the first time after all; it was bound to get easier.

I found myself in a long enclosed corridor with no visible exits, not even the indentation that I’d come to recognise as the doorway in the White Room interrupted the smooth bright finish of the glowing walls. When I looked around I was surprised not even to be able to see the doorway I’d just used.

‘Crikey Ankit, if all the doors in this city are like that one, I am going to get really confused. How do you know where you’re going?’

He tapped the side of his head, ‘its all in here Richard, don’t worry.’

Halfway down the corridor he turned to the wall and touched it at shoulder height and the section immediately lost its solidity and became transparent as if vanishing under his touch. It revealed a mirror image of the corridor we were in, and almost immediately the low humming of an electric motor bought movement within it, and I began to realise that we were looking into some kind of tunnel;
we must be standing on the platform of a futuristic tube system
.

My assumption was confirmed when something began to slowly pass the section of wall in front of us, a cobalt blue windowless shuttle filled the whole area of the tunnel as it moved from right to left. Its surface was so smooth, with no imperfections, that once it had obscured the transparent section of the wall it was impossible to tell if it was still moving.

Then Ankit started to look at a section of the wall, as if he could see something that I couldn’t, and he turned to me and said ‘Just follow me as you did before,’ then he disappeared through the wall.

No one else occupied the compartment we’d entered and without waiting for Ankit to instruct me I sat on one of the moulded seats. It was as white as everything else and I felt the movement of it adjusting to my shape when I sat down.
One more thing to get used to
, I thought, as I tried my hardest to dismiss the feeling that this strange sensation was like something alive groping my backside.

I sat there expecting to feel the acceleration of the shuttle as it moved off, but it remained stationary and after a short while I began to wonder if there was a problem and we’d have to walk to our destination.

And sitting there, I began to wonder just exactly what experience I was letting myself in for. I'd never asked what this 'induction' entailed and the thought of being intimately examined by an array of instruments flashed through my mind.

‘Where is this Information centre anyway?’ I asked

‘It’s on the edge of the city, about 100 miles.’

‘Wow, that’s a big city. While we’re on route could you tell me exactly what to expect when we get there?’

‘No’ came a surprisingly sharp and unexpected reply, but as I began to respond, Ankit smiled and held his finger in the air to stop me, before saying, ‘because we’ve already arrived.’

As we disembarked I looked around amazed and whispered under my breath, ‘I couldn’t even tell we were moving.’

I tried to do a mental calculation of the speed we must have travelled at, but my mind seemed to be too focused on my impending experience to concentrate, so I gave it up as a bad job.

And Ankit must have picked up on my nervousness because he said reassuringly, ‘I know you’re worrying what you might be about to encounter Richard, and doubtless with a measure of trepidation, and that's only natural, but you have nothing to fear, I can assure you.’ I was grateful for his words but I am not sure they helped.

We passed through several other doorways, which to my relief did get easier, and used a vertical version of the shuttle, which he told me had taken us one hundred levels up.

‘I see why you smiled when I remarked on the size of this city, it’s unbelievable. Are we underground or are we in some sort of super skyscraper?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ was the predictable response.

Oh well, at least I was going to get some answers soon, any more of his procrastination would drive me mad, not that I actually believed that could happen, not with the state of my new body. I felt healthier than I’d ever done before, I was leaner and more muscular than I’d ever been and I had no imperfections that I was aware of. Everything seemed to be in peak condition and proportion, and I felt so alive.

We finally entered a large room, at the centre of which stood what looked like a wooden oval table, about six feet across at its widest point and surrounded by matching high backed moulded chairs. It looked like one of the posh board rooms where I used to work, and I was pleasantly surprised to actually see some colour; I was beginning to worry about snow blindness! Whereas almost everything I’d seen so far had been white, here the walls were pale green, the desk and chairs were shades of brown and the floor material, whatever that was made of, was pitch black and, like everywhere else I’d walked, was soft and transmitted its warmth through the soles of my moccasin shoes.

As I looked closer I realised the table was emitting a strange inner glow and its luminosity was increasing. It was quite disconcerting and noticing my attention Ankit said, ‘It serves as an interface to the Information System, you’ll see. Take a seat.’

Once again I felt the intimate and slightly uncomfortable movement of the chair that Ankit had gestured to as it adjusted. Then he took a seat besides me and I noticed the top of the table beginning to move forward until it was almost touching us. In actual fact it was just growing larger in our direction. I instinctively raised my arms as it came into contact with my midsection and as it formed around me and merged into the chair I could tell that the chair itself had formed around my legs. I was completely trapped by this living furniture and I looked over to Ankit for assurance.

‘This is normal, don’t worry Richard, although you can’t feel it, the Information System has bonded with your body and has already made connections with your brain.’

‘That’s comforting,’ I said meekly, as I tried unsuccessfully to sense anything moving around inside my body.

‘The system can communicate without physical contact but this is the best way to acquire a lot of information quickly.’

The gap between me and Ankit seemed to be growing. Was he moving away, or vice versa? I didn’t know but suddenly I was aware that we were both on opposite sides of the table.

Then suddenly I heard my name being spoken and at first I thought it was Ankit, but looking over at him I saw that his mouth was still.

‘This is the year 3210,’ I perceived the voice again, and realised it was actually coming from inside my head, ‘over a thousand years have passed since the last human was cryogenically preserved, and only one hundred years have passed since those most suitable have begun to be revived.

These people have become known as Cryogens and each one that has been successfully revived has integrated into, and now abides, by the laws of our societies. You will also be given that opportunity.’

There was that reference to more than one society again
, I thought.

The voice continued. ‘With advancements in science and biology offering virtual immortality, the practice of cryogenically preserving people ceased, and these citizens were placed underground on the far side of the Moon and eventually forgotten.’

What’s this got to do with Helen
? I wanted to ask, but the narrative continued.

‘When they were re-discovered over two hundred years ago there was no reason, or desire among the general population to attempt revival. It was only the efforts of a group of archaeologists, who succeeded in gaining the rights to try to salvage what they presented to society as
living history
.’

Much of the data stored with these people has deteriorated beyond retrieval and in many cases only certain possessions stored with them survive.’

I looked down at my wedding ring and then over to Ankit who seemed to be in just as much of a trance as myself.

‘In some cases,’ the voice continued, ‘the Cryogen tanks themselves have been breached and the bodies inside lost forever.’

Then the voice said, just matter-of-factly, ‘Our current records show no Helen Green successfully revived.’

My heart sank as it hit me, and I hardly heard the continuing narration from the system as it continued.

‘She may have been among the very first Cryogens to be revived, as incomplete records cover that period. But if not, and her container remains intact, she could still be one of the many thousands awaiting revival. This is the extent of the information we have on your wife.’

As I started to think the worst, Ankit spoke from across the table, as if to reassure me, ‘Richard, don’t worry, it doesn’t mean Helen is lost. After your induction has finished you can put yourself forward to be involved in the Cryogen work. That way, you can make sure you’re there if she is still waiting to be revived.’

A wan smile crossed my disappointed face and I said, ‘I’ll definitely do that Ankit.’ I didn’t want to think about it at the moment so with a sigh I just said, ‘What happens next?’

‘What you’ve just experienced was a verbal transfer of information in an attempt to answer the most pressing question dominating your thoughts. Now the system will integrate fully and start to provide the information you’ll need about the environment and your body. This is what you’ll need to successfully interact with the world around you. Just relax and try to go to sleep, it will be like dreaming.’

Leaning back onto the headrest of my chair, I closed my eyes, sighed deeply at the ceiling and said ‘Bring it on.’

But my mind, being do obsessively focused on my wife, must have temporarily resisted the advances of the Information System, because I was drawn into a dream before I let it take control. My memories must have taken over, shored up by my previous life’s experiences, and my mind must have used them to open my own window through time, to a safer time when Helen and I were both young. And it was there that I sought refuge, at the very beginning of our story.

Chapter 05
– School

Helen had only been twelve years old when her father got transferred to Nottingham with his Civil Service job. Harold Croft and his family had been uprooted from their peaceful townhouse in rural Berkshire, where they’d all been happy, surrounded as they were, with family and friends. The move had been deeply unpopular with her mother and three older brothers, and frequent arguments had broken out between them and her father. But eventually, the fact that he was going nowhere in his career if he didn't take the job had sunk in, and reluctantly they'd followed him, and settled down in the comfortable four bedroom detached house, on the outskirts of the city.

Just a few miles away lay a council estate where unemployed David Green, his wife Jean, two daughters and me, their son, rented a run down semi detached house. Although renting was a slightly inaccurate description, because it gave the impression that it was my parents who actually paid for our accommodation, when in fact it was the state that paid the local council in the form of benefits. The flaking paint on its metal framed windows, and unkempt and overgrown garden it sat in, displayed a neglect that was reflected inside and was typical of many houses that didn’t have a tenant that owned them.

The houses on the two estates reflected quite clearly the different expectations and aspirations of their inhabitants, but they both fell within the catchment area of the same state school, which drew in the children of everyone in its orbit who couldn’t afford to educate them privately.

This was the school that both Helen and I had attended through most of our teenage years, and where we’d both gravitated to opposite poles of the social structure that often held sway among young adults whenever large groups of them were bought together. Because of this, I'd hardly been aware of Helen’s existence, let alone her underlying qualities, for most of the time I’d attended. Which considering the company I’d fallen in with, was not as often as my proud parents had believed.

Helen’s natural demeanour back then was one of shyness and reflective consideration. In fact she deferred from speaking in company unless absolutely necessary and hated being the centre of attention. These qualities matured her beyond her natural age and were only reinforced by the unfashionable dresses that clung to her as if knowing they were coming to the end of their useful lives. In fact they were so bad that some kids joked that they belonged to her mum, or even, her grandma. These jibes, although cruel, never bothered her, because the young shoulders that supported her mature head just shrugged them casually away.

Her plain features were framed by her un-styled, shoulder length brown hair, and her quite 'mouse-like' ways contributed to the ‘please leave me alone’ message that she seemed to constantly transmit. If her actions were an intentional effort to make people not notice her, it seemed to work. She kept herself to herself, never said ‘boo’ to a goose, and faded easily into the background. This allowed her to fit in with the other ‘
Plain Janes’
that she mixed with, and there seemed so many of, whilst giving no hint at all of the type of woman she’d later become.

My height and Mediterranean good looks, on the other hand, had bought me a place with the top gang of boys in the school; a group I’d fooled myself into believing at the time was the
in-crowd
, only later to admit, were just a bunch of bullies. I’d been at that stage in a lot of young men’s lives who were exposed to a certain type of male role model. Where I felt the need to impress and gain respect, genuine or false it didn’t matter, we all wore it like a badge and it became addictive, and most of all it pleased the overbearing father, brother or uncle whose unfulfilled need for respect was being vicariously satisfied.