“What does that mean?”
“A microchip can only record living data. If a body is deceased, the chip degrades.”
“Dr Grossmith told me. I wasn’t dead.”
“Yes, the remarkable thing with your stasis is that you weren’t preserved after death as in all other cases of which we are aware but underwent an unknown procedure in the days or hours prior.” He waited, hoping the significance of what he said might spark some memory, a glimmer or splinter of remembrance. But there was nothing.
“Dr Grossmith told me the story, Principal Hardy, he thinks it’s about me but he’s wrong.”
He sighed inwardly. He was trying his best not to be too technical. There had to be a simpler language, a less confusing way to draw her out.
“Do you remember what you did for a living?”
“Nothing,” she stated. That was what she did. Nothing.
Her reply was unexpected, but he kept his expression neutral.
“Then, tell me what you were doing in the moments before you—before you fell asleep?”
“Well, do you mean before Michelle was due to arrive?”
“If that’s the only thing you can remember.”
So, she told him the same story she told the doctor and nurse.
When she finished, he poured her more tea without asking. Her third cup of this purple glory was every bit as delicious as the first and she wondered why it hadn’t gone cold in the pot.
Principal Hardy agreed with Grossmith, she wasn’t what they anticipated. Deliberately bypassing the registry which contained better historical images but might have been too advanced for her, he walked to the bookcase and selected a book, a picture book, much the same as one a child would read. He showed it to Alice, who recognised one or two pictures of a bus, another of a train and random pictures of clothing which looked like the outfits she wore when she was a teenager. She pointed out the things she recognised.
Principal Hardy closed the book and turned away, placing it carefully on the table. He joined his hands behind his back. Alice stayed quiet, in case he was considering things of importance, it would be better to let him speak first.
“This is puzzling,” she heard him say, not sure if he was addressing her or talking to himself. He walked slowly over to the picture of the planet and stars and stood, gazing at it in silence before returning to his chair. “These seem to be personal memories, but…” Principal Hardy tapped his finger against his lips.
“Alice, what was happening in the world to the best of your recollection, there might be something that will help me piece things back together for you.”
“I don’t know,” which was true enough, she knew little. “There was a global warning,” she shrugged. And a sale at the shoe shop and she could get Brussels sprouts for less than $3. Petrol was cheap too, Michelle had said so, but these nuggets of information might bore such an important man, so she left them out.
“Do you mean global warming?”
“I suppose,” she shook her head and shrugged again. “They’re only words, I don’t understand what any of it means, I didn’t have much schooling, Principal Hardy, global warning—warming, has something to do with earthquakes and tidal waves, I think.”
“What else do you remember? Can you tell me something of the community in which you lived?”
So, the Brussels sprouts and petrol stories got an airing as he studied her and smiled encouragement while she described her small world to him. The shops, the weather, the trains, buses, Michelle’s too large four-wheel-drive car, her widow’s pension. She shrugged again when she finished. She was in the presence of greatness and shrugging was not polite, but it didn’t matter because she was dreaming. She could be as rude as she liked, then she corrected herself. Rudeness is uncalled for. You shouldn’t imagine rudeness.
“I wonder, if, like me, you are an historian,” he said when she finished relating these small events to him. “What you are describing belongs in the early 21st century. Alice, these can’t be your memories.”
“But you said I was Alice Watkins.”
He held up his hand. “I was acknowledging the identity you have adopted for yourself, I may have been wrong, but I don’t suppose our little conversation here today would have gone nearly as well had I insisted upon addressing you as Dr Langley.”
“I am Alice Watkins, Principal Hardy.”
“I know you believe that.”
He had no wish to denigrate nor devalue her account of her history, not while she held so fast to those memories. She may be taking comfort from them and he had no desire to cause her distress, but facts are facts.
“These memories, these depictions of that time, to my knowledge, are accurate, with the only explanation being you absorbed and retained them through a study of history. You couldn’t have been there, but after your long sleep, these have surfaced and emerged as your own. The personal references, I can’t explain.”
“I remember them, Principal Hardy,” Alice would not back down on this, he was questioning her existence, “because I was there, well, not actually there for earthquakes, but I read the newspaper sometimes.”
“Newspapers haven’t existed since at least 2028.”
Alice looked at him, at the book on the table, the books on the wall, the space picture. He was sincere, but he didn’t believe in Alice Watkins. No-one believed in Alice Watkins. She had taken her place beside the tooth fairy, a figment of the imagination.
“Did I really have an angelism?”
He nodded and didn’t correct her.
“Dr Grossmith and Dr Clere, did they experiment on me like in the war and that’s the reason I’m here?”
“Dr Grossmith and Dr Clere are no longer medical doctors in the usual context from your time—their careers have progressed on a different path, but I am a medical doctor and closely associated with your recovery. I repaired your aneurysm. I can assure you, we would never harm anyone.”
“They said they saved my life and put things inside me, transplants—I’m not sure. I know sometimes people can get a heart from someone who died. Dr Clere tried to tell me about it, but I didn’t understand what he was saying.”
“Most of your internal organs had failed, you couldn’t have survived without the bio...” it might be prudent to rethink his explanation. She hadn’t understood Dr Clere, no point in making matters worse,
“…the new organs. Nothing was transplanted. Your new organs are natural. Regrown. Dr Clere is foremost in…” he searched for a word or phrase she might understand that would encompass everything Dr Clere meant to the scientific community,
“…there is no-one better than he to help patients like you.”
“I thought he was a doctor, same as in a hospital. What other sorts of doctors are there?”
“Many kinds, you will learn about them in time, but Dr Clere has saved countless lives with his techniques. Dr Grossmith is very interested in ancient people, but he also has an interest in how people were frozen in order to preserve them. He has devoted a good portion of his career to the study of your case.” He was glad to have skirted words such as forensic anthropologist and cytogeneticist.
“Only me? Why was I so special?”
“Nothing special about you Alice. Don’t go getting ideas above your station.”-Alice’s mother.
“There has never been anyone like you. Dr Grossmith has been beside you, watched over you and protected you for 40 years.”
No-one like her. Dr Grossmith had said she was the only one, his favourite patient and now she was being told she took up 40 years of his career. How long had she been asleep before that? She could ask Principal Hardy, but he might try to sidestep.
A movement on the space picture drew her attention. She didn’t react to the realisation it wasn’t a picture at all, that the huge planet with rings and the little ships moving around were real and going about their business outside the window, in space. The sight represented just another amazing aspect of the dream, so she may
as well ask.
“Principal Hardy, how long was I asleep?”
He had no way of knowing how she might receive this information. Had she woken with her memories intact, she would have been excited, enthusiastic, animated and bombarding all of them with questions, eagerly embracing her new world of technology and medical advancement but here, now, he faced a woman diminished by life, not edified, uneducated, not well-informed. But whatever he had hoped for, it was still her life and her history. And she should know the truth.
“Four hundred years.”
She studied him for a moment then looked back at the window and wondered how they got that great big planet so close to Earth?
Kelly arrived, and the interview ended. Principal Hardy helped her stand.
“You’ll be here for a while longer, so we can spend more time together. I very much enjoyed our visit today.”
“Thank you for the tea, Principal Hardy.” Kelly began adjusting the calliper for walking, but Alice asked her to wait.
“Principal Hardy, you really believe I’m this lady, Alexis Langley?”
“Yes,” he inclined his head in agreement. “You are absolutely who we say you are.”
“Would you like to know what I think?”
He nodded, a puzzled smile causing his moustache to curl downward at the tips.
“I think you got the labels mixed up.”
Chapter Seven
After a brief stop at the hospital room where Kelly spoke with Principal Hardy and Dr Grossmith on an odd-looking glass panel with red and green lines, Kelly took Alice to a large area she called a “mess”. Rather than messy, to Alice, it was very neat and tidy, and she would have been proud to have kept her home to this standard. The “mess” had views of the big planet, a view Alice ignored, choosing instead to check out her surroundings, pleasantly set out like the cafés she had been to with Michelle. Alice felt a sudden wave of longing for her family, sitting here in the “mess” reminded her of some lovely outings she’d had with them. A waiter placed a soft white cake on the table, alongside a pot of the lovely purple tea, complete with cups like the ones in Principal Hardy’s office. All very manageable.
“Do you recognise these at all, Dr Langley?” Kelly cut the cake into four pieces, just big enough for a mouthful of each portion. They looked like solid rice flour.
“I seem to recall, but can’t fix a time and place, I’m sorry Kelly.”
“Please don’t apologise, Dr Langley. These pastes give complete nutrition. Four pieces are enough for one day.”
“Can you call me Alice? It’s strange being called Dr Langley. I’m not a doctor.”
Kelly wasn’t sure. “I’m required to address you by your proper title, Dr Langley but I suppose I could call you Alice when we’re alone.”
“That’s nice of you, thank you, Kelly. It makes me feel better.”
“Good. In that case, perhaps you should ask Dr Grossmith to call you Alice as well. Maybe that’s how Alexis was pronounced in your time, with a silent ‘x’. Who knows?”
It sounded a plausible explanation to Alice and when directed by Kelly, she lifted a piece of the cake to her mouth, she allowed herself to believe, for the first time, things might turn out ok.
Kelly recorded her observations on Alice’s cake-eating, checking for swallowing and fussing around with a variety of small instruments. Alice saw that a few of the other people in the mess were eating the white cakes too. It could have been a hospital dining room anywhere if you ignored the thumping great planet outside the window. A view of the stars and a pot of tea. What a lovely way to while away an hour or so.
Kelly saw her passing glance towards the viewport and took it as a cue to acquaint Alice with her new surroundings. She told her about Saturn Station, the medical facilities and research programs, about her work here and how she loved returning to Earth whenever she could. Alice listened, but Kelly’s explanation confirmed to her that all of this could only be in her imagination. Saturn Station? But then, where else would she be in a dream that gave her carroty hair 400 years into the future?
She suddenly turned to Kelly, interrupting her in mid-sentence, as if she had not heard a single word.
“Dr Clere must be a molecular physiologist.”
Kelly paused. Alice seemed different.
“Yes, amongst other things.”
“He regrew my heart?”
“Yes, your heart, part of your liver and your kidneys.”
Alice was thinking, her gaze leaving Kelly and wandering back to the viewport.
“Forgive me, it’s hazy,” Alice smiled as she looked back at Kelly. “I seem to remember an organisation, a team, something to do with cellular…no, it’s gone.”
Kelly watched and waited for another question. She had sensed the shift herself and for a few seconds, felt out of time, lost.
“Am I dreaming?” Alice had changed back.
“No.” Kelly rapidly collected her thoughts.
“How do you know?”
“Because I just monitored where that nutrition cake went and what it’s doing on your insides and Alice, no-one ever dreams about opening their bowels.”
Going for a poo was unmentionable. It hadn’t occurred to Alice that all this time, somehow, she had to be going to the lavatory! How couldn’t she have known?
“I don’t know. I don’t feel as if…” Alice was appalled, with no way to conceal her embarrassment from Kelly.
“Don’t worry,” she patted Alice’s hand. “Privacy in such matters is safeguarded. But now, with no form of prosthesis to extract and process all eliminations, you’ll get the normal bodily urges and functions like the rest of us. Come on, I’ll show you to your new quarters.”
Alice walked alongside Kelly. Although she had only been walking since this morning, it seemed a good deal longer. She said as much.
“That’s because you’ve been walking for the last year. But always in the full calliper. We aren’t going to take any chances for no other reason than you believe you can do it.”
“Walking for a year? Why can’t I remember?”
“It takes years for hearts to grow and attaching them once again takes many surgeries. After you woke from stasis, you were placed on the life prosthesis and even after Dr Clere grew your organs and they became fully functional, you stayed in a semi-catatonic state, despite having normal neurological responses and bodily functions, well, normal apart from the fact you weren’t ageing. You continued to challenge medical reasoning, but Dr Grossmith decided to proceed as if you were awake. And that meant getting you moving.”
“If I’m dreaming, I can understand that my daughter’s not here. I don’t always dream of my family.”
“You aren’t dreaming.”
“Then I’m dead.”
“You aren’t dead either, or dying, not anymore.”
“I was once dying and now I’m alive?”
Alice didn’t expect answers to these questions, she was only making statements to help her sift through the vast amount of information she received that morning.
“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“How old was I when I died?”
“29, but you weren’t dead.”
“I’m almost 65.”
“You were 29 and close to death when your uncle placed you in stasis.”
“No, I’m almost 65.”
“No, you were born in 2098.”
“I was born in 1951.”
“Definitely 2098, we retrieved the information from your chip.”
“I microchipped my cat.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I mean only dogs and cats were microchipped.”
“Principal Hardy summarised his conversation with you.”
Alice stopped walking, stepping to the side to let other people pass. Kelly stood beside her and waited. Any information could mean a breakthrough.
“I worked in a bakery as a casual before I got married, then I never worked again.”
�
��You were a scientist. Several university records from your time have survived, so we referenced you. If we are to go by the information found, you were a biochemist and part of a research team studying cellular and molecular biology. There was no personal data about where you lived and so forth.”
“The records must be wrong Kelly. I don’t even know what a biochemist is, and those other things, I have no idea what they are.”
“They’re not wrong and in the mess, you asked if Dr Clere was a molecular physiologist.”
“I don’t remember,” she had a vague recollection of a conversation she’d overheard in the mess, but it was indistinct.
“Tell me about Alexis again.”
“After you’re settled in, I’ll tell you about Alexis.”
“Ok.” Alice allowed herself to be led back onto the walkway.
Alice’s new quarters turned out to be like a room in a posh hotel and the luxury left Alice feeling very undeserving. Kelly, who appeared immune to the surroundings, was busy checking the equipment in the room. She looked up, amused by Alice’s wide-eyed appreciation.
“Principal Hardy wanted you to have one of the nicest rooms, Alice, because you still have a few months here. He told me to make sure you’re comfortable.”
“This isn’t just comfortable, Kelly, this is like a hotel. One I could never afford I might add.”
“Well, you deserve it. Now, I’ll show you around. This portal here leads to the washer.”
Alice went inside. There were no windows, and the walls had the sheen of stainless steel. Alice recognised at once a piece of equipment jutting out from the wall. A toilet. At the sight of it, all the tea she had drunk that morning made its presence felt. She looked at Kelly.
“Sit on it,” she instructed. “It will take care of cleaning you up afterwards.”
Alice made to sit down, then realised Kelly was still there. Kelly smiled and stepped outside. Considerable progress today, she thought, her patient could do this safely on her own and she waited until Alice appeared at the portal, wearing a happy smile. Who would have thought doing a pee by yourself would be a cause to celebrate!
The Afterlife of Alice Watkins 1 Page 6