Day of Remembering

It started as a pulse, feeling foreign in my chest. Minutes passed, and all I could do was feel my breaths dragged up through a sandpaper throat. It’s not real. Snuggled into my left side, my child was silently crying, arms clasped around her waist in pain. I tried to comfort her, but no matter the force I put in, my voice remained silent. She couldn’t hear me anyway. Couldn’t feel me. For a moment I closed my eyes and let myself dwell in the unnatural silence. And dwell in the knowledge that in a few short minutes, both she and I would be no more. The thought felt unnatural, surreal in my mind, but it was true.

I put my palms to my eyes and held my breath in silent revolt. The foreign feeling was starting to spread. Not long now, I knew. Who would I be, while I still lived? Was I who I ended as, even if that person was sleep-deprived and in pain and would probably ignore a little kid in danger if it meant this pain would just *stop*? I could feel shivers now, and they weren’t coming from me. I cast my eyes down to the pasty, sweaty face of little Melissa and couldn’t swallow. She looked so fragile. And as her eyes closed, and her body convulsed a final time, I knew I would never let this be real.

The fresh fragrance of lavender hit me like a life-raft. Muted lights started to shine brighter, and he was waiting for me with a glass of fresh juice. I turned it away.

"We're not going to die. We're never going to die." My voice was on the edge of hysterical, a high laugh creeping into it.

He watched me calmly with a humoring smile.

“No, Mr. Majors, neither of you will die. That's the point, yes? Happy Cryonics Day. You did very well. Through the right door for your complimentary Swedish Massage.” The helmet clicked off, and I felt the air pass through my lungs, clean and fresh.

“It’s a bit intense, you know,” I murmured, still shaking.

“It’s necessary.”

“I would never want… that. I don’t see how anyone could, it’s obscene.”

The clerk sighed and rubbed his face, frown lines clear. “I hear that every day. Hell, it’s almost every person that says it. And yet ninety-two years ago, nearly every person was okay with that. Or at least didn’t fight it. Some preached it. Said our way was unnatural.”

"It's unnatural to let your children die."

I looked at the greying hair, the age spots on that sagging brow. And for the first time, I feared I might not see this man here next year. My mouth dried up, and I whispered “See you round the bend?”

He just smiled, whispered “And aren’t we glad for it?”, and pushed me through the door. I could hear his distant ‘Next!’ as the massage receptionist guided me through the familiar process of health checks and robing.

I’d just finished the paperwork when a young guy, maybe eighteen, stepped through the door behind me. He was white as a sheet.

“First Cryonics Day?” I asked, sympathetic. You knew it wasn’t real, but darn if it didn’t get you anyway.

He just looked at me, eyes wide.

“They really… just let it happen?”

“Well, that’s what they tell us anyway. I don’t know, maybe it’s all exaggerated. They say some of them believed you just kept going anyway, no Cryonics, no nothing, some kind of essence kept going.” I shrugged, glad my hands had finally stilled enough to be a comfort to this guy.

“It’s not so bad. It’ll be better next year.” I patted him on the shoulder, and started to turn away.

“Wait! Why do they even do it, though? Why put me through that – the things I saw – and I believed that she wasn’t coming back, I really believed, like I’d somehow forgot…”

I regarded him, and felt a bitter smile on my lips.

“Because if they didn’t, what’s to say we wouldn’t go back to how we were before? Waiting for death, no provisions in place? Just… letting it take us away. Everyone, everything that matters away.” I took a deep breath, and tried my best to let the knowledge that wasn’t the case anymore suffuse me. "There's the bill of course. The day's made for it, yeah? It does make me wonder though, I couldn't even imagine not signing up, just because it wasn't required by law. But the tech's been around since 1963 - over a hundred years before the bill even passed, fifty before more than a few hundred people were signed up! Just think how many people... It just doesn't make sense."

"My mom said they were different, back then. Couldn't think of the future. Hadn't evolved."

"No. Read a book, mate, that's not near true. Evolution doesn't happen that fast, even our brand."

"Mr. Majors, the therapist is ready for you."

"That's my cue. And lighten up, mate," my first real smile started to form, "After all, it's a holiday."