A Visitor to the Future - 71 - Truth and Triumph
Antonia's grounds were beautiful at the worst of times - and approached perfection at the best. Yet, on that day, I paid no attention to them. I could have been walking through a pig-sty for all that my brain processed what was going on around me. My legs mechanically went through the motions of striding forward, almost in a daze.
Emotions ran through my head in waves. Anxiety and worry were quickly followed by a burning sense of helplessness, and afterwards a sensation that my body was not my own. It all came down to this - why did this bother me so much?
In the hospitals of my own time, I'd been poked and prodded, subjected to every test in the book - and a few more that weren't. I'd tried every procedure and idea that the doctors had to try and resolve my condition. Obviously, none of them had worked, but at least I'd known what was happening to me.
I'd trusted Dr. Andreas Grant, in a way. We'd built a friendly rapport over just a few short weeks, in the worst, last days of my condition. I'd genuinely trusted that he'd give my family the money for my participation, for I made no secret of the fact that I didn't expect to survive the procedure. He'd patiently talked me through the contract I'd have to sign, and figuring I had nothing to lose, had watched me sign the dotted line.
Nowhere in that time had he mentioned that my head was to be detached from my body.
Maybe it had been there - in the small print of the contract which I was too worn out to read. Perhaps if I'd seen it I would have questioned it, and said to Dr. Grant, "Hang on, you're not freezing the rest of me? Wait a moment, I'm not sure about this..."
Then the sense of conflict came back - if I'd seen it, I might have changed my mind. Then that would have been the end - no money for my family, and certainly no waking up for me.
So had Dr. Grant been right to conceal the details from me, after all? I wouldn't be here otherwise.
And had Sarkona been right to not provide the details about the process until now? If Sarkona had told me all of this, the first time I'd woken up? It would have been too much. I had been already wrestling with the idea of having escaped death, and adjusting to the future - not to mention being in space. I'd been lucky enough to be amazed by all the things that Sarkona had been telling me about - and my natural curiosity had distracted me from the more troubling issues at hand. That distraction had genuinely helped me to slowly adjust to the changes around me.
There was also the possibility that I'd been secretly glad not to think about what had happened to me. I'd woken up in the hospital more than once, and wished I could forget about what was happening to me. Had I been secretly glad I didn't know?
I sat down cross-legged on a patch of grass, and buried my head in my hands. Then I recoiled at the motion - these new hands - how did that make me feel?
Suddenly I thought of the Norannists and Rheolists that I'd encountered with Silence, and the photorealistic illustration of them that was framed, leaning against the shelving unit in my hotel room. I had no doubt in my mind that the Norannists, who embraced the past and rejected most Bio-dev, might react much as I currently was doing. But the Rheolists - they'd probably react differently. One of the core tenets of their beliefs was that of change. I'd researched them in a little more detail not long after I'd first encountered them - "Life is about change," the translated work I'd read had said, "Whether we like it or not, change comes to us all. Appreciate change for what it is - a chance for personal growth."
My agency had been removed in some respects, that was true. But it seemed to ultimately come down to this - I was still me, I was fit, healthy, and had found friends and some happiness in this new world. I'd seen things that I couldn't even imagine in my own time - a city on an ocean, the wonders of space, children playing without a single fear or care in the world - even a space elevator! I smiled - there were certainly perks to what had happened to me. I thought of the friends I'd made - people who were always willing to listen, help, or provide me with guidance and advice. Tungsten listening to my worries on literally the first day I'd met him. Blaise inviting me to dinner with him and his 'relic' friends, introducing me to a group of people he thought I could relate to. Antonia comforting me when I was being told about a difficult subject. Even people like Gatecrash - who had volunteered to teach me about meditation despite having barely just met me.
Or Sarkona, telling me the truth about what had happened to me, even if they thought it might harm our friendship, or sour my opinion of them for being the bearer of bad news. Knowing that despite all that, I was entitled to the truth.
I stood at the realization, taking in the grassy area around me for the first time. I turned and headed back to the house, now mindful of my surroundings once more. At the table where I'd left them were Antonia and Sarkona - Antonia smiling at my approach, Sarkona looking like they'd barely moved since I left, head still resting on their crossed arms.
"I'm sorry," I said. Sarkona shifted, head looking sideways and up. Confusion was writ upon their features.
"You're sorry?" they replied, "It's me that should be sorry!"
I shook my head, "You haven't done a thing wrong. Your situation was difficult to begin with - you had to bring me up to speed with a world that wasn't my own, and be the bearer of troubling news if I happened to ask about it. And knowing you, if I'd asked you for the truth on the first day I'd woken up, you'd have told me, right?"
Sarkona exhaled, then gave a small nod to confirm. "Even omitting the fact you were in space at first was difficult. But for the details of what happened to you, I needed to wait until you felt you were ready."
"Can I ask - why?"
Sarkona sat up before explaining. "The Consortium used to help the formerly cryocontained differently. An entire formal team based around them, therapy from day one, a dedicated facility, that sort of thing. For most people it worked very well, but for a few it felt... artificial. Like they were a lab rat, waking up to be poked and prodded - displaced from their own time. Based on that, things were dialled back. People were introduced to the Consortium more gradually, more naturally, just like you, with one person assigned to the adjustment process. Each person's experience became more subjective and personal. Not planning the whole process is the plan these days if that makes sense - we do everything based upon how you feel. The reason I'm saying this is - well, I can easily get things wrong. I should have made you aware that there were more details about what happened to you earlier. But I think I didn't want to risk upsetting any happiness you might have found over the last few months. Anyway - my point. If you feel like you need to talk about what happened to you, there are still professionals who are willing to help you. You only have to ask the Consortium."
I nodded. I still had processing to do - any help that I could get to do that would be appreciated. "I think I'd like that," I said.
Antonia smiled and looked relieved, and we sat there for a time, enjoying the afternoon sun.
Deep in the heart of the innermost workings of the Consortium, the results of a risk assessment changed, the tolerances considered to be within acceptable levels. The cloaked protection drone which had shadowed me for so long disengaged and flew away, no longer needed.