This Day

This Day

by Christopher J. Mercer

This Day By Christopher J. Mercer This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com

2018

"My glass is half full," she said.

He glanced at her from behind his three screens, a puzzled look coming across his face as he registered what had been said. "Huh?"

"My glass. It's half full."

"So refill it."

"That's not the point. Is yours half full or half empty?"

Recognition came across his face in a hurry. "No esoteric games today, thanks. Play shrink on your own time." He turned back to the middle vid-screen.

"...Given current growth, it is expected that CetaCorp will have enough capital and employees to construct their lunar labs by 2029. This would include planning, budgeting, building, and transporting their employees. If successful the company would be at the forefront of modern science. Because of the weightlessness of outer space, experiments can be conducted with little or no..."

"That company is too damn big," he said.

"CetaCorp? I don't think so. Besides, if it weren't for them, we would never have developed the cure for cancer."

Tadd Dainer was unconvinced. "Oh, I'll give them credit for that one. Just hope we never have to count on them to save us all. I mean, with all that supposed knowledge, they've got to be at least a little arrogant. I wouldn't want to rely on them for anything. Big government was one thing, but big business could be worse. There's absolutely no one holding them responsible for their actions."

"Except a moral obligation to the human race. Or, at least to their stockholders."

Tadd snickered. "Stockholders! Ha! There's nothing to their stock at all. Just like every other company in the world, they're going downhill. It's all speculation and no earnings."

"It's not all that bad," she said, then glanced down at her own screens. "Look, TMV is up six bucks again today. That was once a speculative company. I

2 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com remember when they were down nearly twenty dollars a share annually. Now, I don't see an end."

"Come on, Elise, that's an exception, not the rule. TMV is one of the few speculative companies to come out of Black Thursday intact. Of course they're up."

Elise Greenley frowned and looked away. The red hazy light cast in the through the window, and the office lights battled to gain ground. The heavy dust outside, when lit by the sun, cast a pink tint about the office. That was how it had always been to her, the morose light of a society in decay.

Born in 1996, Elise Greenley had lived twenty-two years, all during the era of scientific exploration and global economic competition. She had seen the world come to the brink of collapse, only to be pulled back from oblivion by a forced global reinvestment in infrastructure spearheaded by several key international leaders. What the nuclear threat of her parent's time had ultimately avoided, the obliteration of financial empires around the globe had nearly brought to life.

In her position at Comban and Neiman, an Investment Banking house based in Los Angeles, she had done fairly well. Not luxuriant by any standards, but better than most. Her income was already in the upper-ninety percent of the country, but even that wasn't saying much. She thought it would get better. In an international marketplace, money was made on all exchanges around the globe. It was easy to make money for clients. That meant that it was easy to make money for herself, too.

"Have you noticed that the currency exchange rates have been stable for almost a week now?" she asked. She stretched her long white legs out to Tadd's chair.

Tadd blinked away from his three screens. One was a quotation network screen for the market. One was ICNN, the global news source. One was his vid- phone. They were taking their thirty minute market break for the evening, so he had dialed up a porno-view number. Two women were entangled on the screen. He started to answer her question, but there was a sharp rap on the door.

"Come in," Elise said.

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The door slid open, and Steven Drayman stepped inside. He was dressed in a very cheap, unflattering suit. As yet, he had not done well as a broker.

"Rough night, isn't it?" he asked, stepping inside. The door slid shut with a satisfied creak.

"Tell me about it," Tadd mumbled and turned back to the women, who had now produced tools for each other. This caught Elise's attention as well.

"I've got something hot for you two, if you're interested."

They weren't. The women went at it.

"It's good for you and for your clients," Steve said pointedly.

Elise drew herself away from the screen. Tadd couldn't quite do the same. "What's up?'

"CRYO," was the anagrammed reply.

"Sounds familiar. It's on the Japanese System Four Market, isn't it?"

Steven nodded. "They just rolled out an announcement. They think they've perfected their cryogenically-enhanced sleep machines. They're ready to test out for a five-year stretch on twenty volunteers. They're paying each a million just to go under."

Tadd glanced toward them. "A million for what?"

"To be frozen for five years. If it works, they can start charging for people to use their facilities. Humanoid storage. People could stay alive until cures to diseases are discovered or until they find the solution to death."

Elise frowned. "Solution to death?"

"Well, it's only a matter of time, isn't it? I mean, someday, the scientists will be able to keep us alive forever."

"Where would they put us? We've got an overcrowding problem as it is. The environment has been deteriorating since I was born, even before, and we can't stop it. Where would we keep everyone if they never died?"

Steve waved a hand nonchalantly. "That's not my problem. Talk to the scientists. But for now, get your speculative clients into CRYO."

Tadd shook his head. "They're laying out twenty million dollars and won't see any return for five years. I don't have any clients that speculative."

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Steve smiled. "It won't take that long for the stock to go. We'll know in three days."

"Did these same scientists invent the time machine in the course of freezing lab rats?"

"Think about it," Steve said. "Twenty people go into these machines and fall asleep. If it doesn't work, they'll wake up the next morning. If it does work, they'll wake up in 2023. But we'll know in a couple or three days, and that's when the stock could go wild. It'll be trading all over the place for five years before they really crank out any product."

Elise was chewing thoughtfully on her pen. "So why keep the subjects under for five years. Why not two weeks?"

Steve leaned forward, hunching down and whispering. "I happen to know that they've already done that successfully. They know they can put people under and bring them back. What they don't know is what sort of physical consequences there are over extended periods. That's what this is all about."

"How do you know that they were success..."

Steve clamped his palm down on Tadd's mouth. "Shhh!" He glanced at the door. "I have a friend."

The hand moved away, leaving Tadd's mouth wide open. He started to drool. "So this is a sure thing."

"In the short run, yes. As sure as they come."

"What about the test subjects? When do they get paid?" It was Elise.

"Up front."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"They keep the money. The firm figures that that's a fair price for losing five years of your life."

"But they won't be losing five years. They shouldn't really age at all."

"True, but people won't think of it that way. It's still five years. Besides, twenty million is a small price in the face of billions, maybe trillions."

There was a pause. Steve beamed. Tadd ran through a list of his best clients in his mind. Elise thought about what she was doing the next day. Nothing

5 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com came to mind. No family, save her parents. No obligations, really. Just a job. "Have they found twenty people already?"

Steve shook his head. "Just sixteen."

She reached a quick decision. "I want to do it."

"What?"

"Call them and let them know that they have a seventeenth. Will you watch my money for me while I'm under?"

Steve was speechless. Tadd had completed his list and glanced up at the screen. Two women and a toaster. That was new.

"Watch your money?" Steve was staring at her incredulously.

"Yeah. I want to put the million into CRYO. Sell it when you think you should, then make me some reasonable rate every year for the next five. Take a standard commission. Don't discount it just because it's me."

The rookie broker remained speechless. One of the women screamed. Elise started packing up her belongings.

Dr. Westinghause met them at the Cryogenics Center in Tokyo the next day. Contracts had been signed. Money had been transferred. Stock had been bought. Her parents came along.

"I'm Dr. Westinghause. I'm in charge of the project."

"I'm Elise Greenley. These are my parents, Burt and Marge."

Hands were shaken. People greeted each other. Everyone agreed that it was a happy day.

The setup was spectacular. Ten rooms with two machines each branched off of a central area, where computers whirred and screens flashed. Even in the high technology age, these machines were stacked wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Westinghause went through some of the equipment. Marge Greenley looked over them with apprehension.

Elise's parents were excited by the news. A million dollars was a lot of money, more than most people ever hoped to store up. If the stock performed well, it could get much better.

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Westinghause led them straight into Elise's room from there. Her roommate, as the scientist described him, was already inside. His name was Arch Desmond, and he was a black man from the eastern continent. Elise had noticed on the application that they were looking for people of all sexes and races. No variable could be overlooked.

"How ya doin'?" Arch asked. He seemed a very amiable type. Elise decided that she wouldn't mind sharing a room with him for five short years.

"Fine. Excited?"

"Yep. If this works, I might just keep going for the next hundred years or so."

Westinghause appeared with a microphone and paper in hand. He gave it to Elise. "Read this into the microphone."

"What is it?" she asked, looking over the paper. It didn't really make sense.

"This speech includes nearly every possible sound combination that a person can make. It should take you about five minutes to read it. Be very clear. Then, we'll have every aspect of your voice on record."

"So, it's similar to 'The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog'?"

"Essentially. What that is to typing, this is to voice recognition."

"I don't understand why you..."

"We're working on a new voice recognition computer. It may well be ready when you come out of your cryogenic state. I'd like to have it ready to respond to you and your questions. I may not have time myself. Please, indulge me. Just thinking ahead."

She glanced over the scientist. Graying hair. Not very attractive. Probably in his late forties. She decided that he knew what he was doing. Stepping off to the side, she started reading.

They'd gone over safety factors during their initial phone conversation. The operation had its own self-generating power system. Even if something went wrong and the power supply was severed, each individual machine stored enough power to bring its sleeper out of his or her cryogenic state. The worst case scenario was that she woke up the next morning with a million dollars. Steve the Rookie Broker was standing by to sell all of her stock if the testers woke up. He would be given

7 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com word before the announcement came through that the experiment had failed. That guaranteed that her money would be safe before the stock collapsed. But, Steve was not worried. And neither was she.

She hugged her parents, nodded to Arch, and together they climbed into their respective machines.

"Now, the lights will go out. Take your time falling asleep. Just relax. The whole event will be over in a few minutes." Westinghause looked over the machines. They were fairly simple, just a mattress over a metal frame, with a rounded glass cover that dropped down like a coffin. Two ventilation holes near the person's feet controlled the temperature. That was it. White fluorescent lights lit the room.

"Actually, it will be over in five years," Arch said, laying down and stretching. "Just don't tell my body that."

Her mother clutched Elise's hand. Only in those last moments did she feel a knot in her stomach. What if something went wrong? Elise asked herself for the first time. What if I never wake up? What will death be like? But she knew the chances of that were slim. No more than the chances of having a hover car land on you while you walked down the street.

Her mother's hand let go, and the cover came down, locking into place. "We'll be here when you wake up," her mother promised through the glass. Burt Greenley reached his gigantic arms around his wife comfortingly. His balding hair left a shiny spot on his head that shimmered under the clean white light.

They left the room under Dr. Westinghause's instructions, and the lights slowly faded. Elise Greenley rolled over to go to sleep.

2023

The cold air was the first sensation, though it hadn't been the last. Slowly, the light appeared, fluorescent and familiar. Her eyes had trouble opening. Her body finally shivered, and Elise realized that she was fully awake. She concentrated on pushing her eyes open, and the image of her mother appeared, hovering above

8 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com the glass. Excited, her mom spun around and started speaking. Elise couldn't hear a word.

Finally, the cover lifted, and warm air rushed inside. Her body tingled, and everything was sore. She had trouble lifting her arms, but two assistants reached in and heaved her out of the storage container. Across the room, Arch Desmond was making the same progress.

Her parents looked older. That was the first thing that she noticed as the two of them stood before her. The bald spot was bigger, and her mother's beautiful brown hair was graying. But, even still, her father was a towering, muscular man, as emotionally strong-willed as his presence could indicate.

"Can you talk?" a doctor asked.

I don't know, Elise thought, then realized that that was counter-productive. "I don't know," she verbalized. "I guess so."

The doctor moved away, and her parents ran forward to greet her. "How long was I under?"

"Five years, Dear. It worked perfectly." Her mother looked incredibly relieved.

"Good to see you, Honey," her father said, patting her on the back and beaming proudly.

"I'm thirsty," Elise commented. A glass of water was brought to her immediately. She drank down a huge gulp. Strangely, she wasn't hungry. And, her muscles were working better already.

Lab assistants began to walk by her, taking readings and pictures and touching different machinery to her thighs and forehead.

"Hey, watch where you're putting that!" she heard Arch say, and turned just in time to see him scowl at a doctor as a device was removed from somewhere along the lower-rear side of his body. "It's nice to see you, too." Arch said to the doctor as he walked away.

"Steve is on stand-by on the vid-phone, Elise," her mother informed her. "He wanted to make sure that everything was fine, seeing as this was his doing and all."

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Elise nodded and asked to be shown to a vid-phone. Two minutes later, still in a gown, she was seated in front of the image of Steve Drayman. His hair was much better groomed, and his clothes fit more appropriately. In fact, he looked better than she would have thought possible. Age has helped him fill out, she decided.

"How's it going?" Steve asked, smiling.

"Great. How's my money?"

Steve beamed so hard she almost needed sunglasses. "Eighteen million dollars. The stock soared for two years, and then we sold. I've kept things going since then. Congratulations, you're now part of top two-tenths of a percent of the richest people in the world."

Elise chewed excitedly on her inner lip. Dr. Westinghause appeared. "You aged almost three days. That's about on par with everyone else. Everything checks out. You're in the same exact shape that you were in before. Even your muscles haven't atrophied. It's better than we could have hoped."

"And the others?" Elise asked. The vid-phone was in a room above the central command room. She rose and looked down. Several people walked around in the special blue gowns.

"Everyone is the same. All twenty of you. Just so you know, the Board has decided to let you all have unlimited use of our equipment as long as you live, absolutely free of charge. It's their way of showing gratitude." Westinghause headed for the door to check on the others and look over the data. "Oh yes, Arch Desmond wants to see you. He's going back under today."

Elise frowned. "Doesn't he have any family?" She remembered Arch's comment about the next hundred years.

Dr. Westinghause shook his head. "From what I understand, most of the people that he knew died in South Africa during the raids of 2011. He has no one left. He just wants to see a better future. We'll be putting him back down in a few hours, so take your time." With that, he left.

Elise remained in place, staring at the door. Suddenly, she became conscious of Steve staring at her through the vid-phone. She sat back down.

10 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com "Would you mind watching my money again for five years?" The determination surprised even she.

Steve's face changed from a grin to shock. "What?"

"Think about it. I could be one of the richest people in the world. Just get me a similar return and that will be that. I'll quit. And you and I could do wonderful things with it."

Steve wasn't convinced. "This is a lot of money, Elise. You don't need any more."

"I know. But there's more to it than that, I think. Look, Steve, will you do this if I ask you, or should I go to Tadd?"

Steve hesitated. "Have your parents give me a call if you go back into cry- state."

"Cry-state? Is that what they're calling it?"

He nodded.

"OK. Thanks, Steve." She logged off the vid-phone.

"Think about it," Arch said once she had made it downstairs. "There's only one place that different races can genuinely get along, and that's in the future. My people have been persecuted all over the globe since creation. I want to see the other reality, where skin color doesn't have an effect."

"I'm going to go with you," Elise agreed. Her parents frowned at the idea.

"Elise," her mother began. "You've got so much money now. You could do anything with your life. You don't need more."

Elise glanced at Arch. "It isn't about the money, Mom. I mean, if I'm going to do this, then I might as well make some money while I'm at it. But there's something else. I can feel it. This is much more important than just the money."

"Why?" her father asked in his strong, booming voice.

Elise pondered. "Two days ago...wait. Two days before I went under, Tadd and I were having a talk, and I realized that I wasn't living in the world that I wanted to live in. I think that was part of the reason that I decided to do this. So, now I might as well follow it through all the way."

Her mother stared blankly.

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Elise took a deep breath. "Mom, remember when I was a kid, and I used to spend so much time alone in my room because I was afraid of what was out there. I never really got over that. I mean, sure, I pretended to get over it. I got a job and put myself in new situations, but no matter how hard I told myself otherwise, I was always hiding from something."

"But all children do that," her father said. "That's part of growing up. Christ, half the people I know, even at age fifty-eight, are still like that."

"But it doesn't have to be that way. I'm not aging here, and when I get back out, I don't want to spend my life in one room, or one house, or one place because I'm afraid of everything else. I can't just sit still forever."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Arch nodding. She realized that he felt the same way. Her parents did not.

Finally, she sighed. "Look, Mom and Dad, five more years. I promise. That's all. Call Steve and coordinate investments with him. Make sure he makes me money and doesn't just use my money to make himself rich."

Her mother never managed to hide the hurt look on her face. But Elise knew what she had to do. Five more years wouldn't matter.

"So much has changed since you went under," her mother said. "So much has changed."

Elise looked at Dr. Westinghause. "When can I do this?"

He shrugged. "We've perfected a new technology. We can put you to sleep, so you don't have to be tired in advance. We're planning on making some changes, but that can be done while you sleep. You could go under now."

Elise nodded. Arch was ready as well. She looked at him carefully, then glanced around the room. It was strange to see his face, unaged, while the others around her looked so different.

"We're also installing the voice-recognition computers, but it won't make much difference to you," Westinghause declared.

Elise and Arch returned to their respective beds. The saddened look on her mother's face pained her, but Elise knew that it was for the best.

"So much has changed," her mother said again.

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The lid came down, and her mother remained in sight. She turned to Burt Greenley, and Elise saw her mouth the words once again.

So much has changed.

The chamber got colder, and the lights went out completely.

2028

The lights were on before she realized it. The glass lid lifted away from her, and her eyes popped open. Her muscles were less tired than the last time. She lifted herself up and was surprised that no one was there to greet her. She was even more surprised to see that the room looked completely different.

For one thing, Arch Desmond's sleeping chamber was missing. And hers was attached to much more equipment. A desk was in the room, with a vid-phone on top of it.

"Good day," came a friendly, female voice.

Elise glanced around and saw nothing.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hello," came the reply.

"Hello?"

"Hello."

"Hi."

"Who is that?"

"I am the computer. Dr. Westinghause is in the window from your position. Which were you referring to?"

Elise looked toward the window that showed the central processing room. Westinghause did, indeed, stand in the window. Seeing her awake, he walked through the door, which slid shut behind him with a resounding thud.

"Your water is on the table," he said.

Elise looked down. Next to her bed, an endtable stood with a glass of water on it.

"Is that the same water that I had last time?"

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"Yes. Does that bother you? This room is airtight, I assure you. No dust, no diseases. The water is perfectly safe."

She considered this, then took a large drink.

"What's going on?" He looked older, but he was also at the point where it was hard to tell how much aging was actually going on.

"It's difficult to explain, actually."

"Well, give it a shot, actually," Elise returned. "How long have I been under?"

"Five years, as planned. We saw no reason to leave you under longer."

"Where is Arch?"

There was a nervous pause. "He died."

"What?"

"It was a fluke. Your body aged three days in the last five years, just like it did the first time. His would have done the same, except he had a heart attack one day in. He would have died one day ten years ago if he hadn't been involved with this project."

Elise fell back in shock. Her body collapsed into the chair at the desk. "And my parents?"

"They're fine. You can call them on the vid-phone. And your money is fine, too, from what I hear."

"Why aren't my parents here?"

"Like I said, it's difficult to explain, actually."

"Like I said," Elise replied, "give it a shot, actually."

Westinghause sighed. "Computer, give a detailed synopsis of present environmental conditions for Elise Greenley, keeping in mind that she has missed the last ten years."

"The environment has all but collapsed."

She paused, waiting for more. "That's it?"

Westinghause grimaced. "I wasn't expecting such a brief answer. It must have decided that you don't know enough about the events of the last ten years to explain things in greater detail. It gave you the straightest answer that you could understand."

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Elise had to agree. That had been the straightest answer in history. "What exactly is happening out there?"

Westinghause opened his mouth to respond, but the computer thought the question was directed at it. "Industrial production has ceased. Environmental reconstruction is under way. Chances of success are currently seventy- three point six percent. The project is estimated to take four more years."

"Reconstruction?" Elise asked. "Is that possible?"

"Possible? Certainly. They can do anything, you know."

She didn't. The "they" in his sentence seemed very purposeful. "Who is that, exactly?"

Westinghause glanced around and lowered his voice. "CetaCorp. They've got their best people up in space and on the moon. They're working night and day to solve the problems, and they happen to be succeeding. If anyone can do it, they can. They have atmospheric reprocessors working to filter the air back to its original state. In the meantime, people aren't allowed to leave their communities. In the last ten years, we've built huge, self-contained structures. Families can live, eat, shop, and take care of their recreational needs all inside of one tower. A lot of businesses have gone under, but a lot are also thriving."

He paused. "They even came up with a cure for the first two strains of AIDS."

"What about the last two?" she asked.

"You mean the last six. It mutated out of control again. Call your parents. They want you to go back under for five more years. That should solve the problem."

"And if it doesn't?" she asked pointedly.

Westinghause glanced around the room and avoided the question. "After Arch died, we updated your room like the others. We want to make each cryo- chamber into a separate living quarters. I'm not really sure why." He drifted off and wandered out of the room.

Elise reached over to the phone and looked for the dialpad. It was not there.

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"How do I dial this thing?" she asked aloud, mostly to herself. Of course, the computer had an answer.

"State name of person that you wish to dial. Include relationship and anything that might be of use."

"My mother, Mrs. Marge..."

"Thank you. Dialing now."

Her mom answered the phone. Her hair was completely gray now, and her face was wrinkled. Her father was in the background. Even he looked weak. He rose from his chair slowly once he heard her voice.

"Hi Mom. Hi Dad."

"Elise. Thank goodness you're all right. I haven't heard from that Dr. Westinghause for weeks."

"I'm sure he's busy, Mom."

"I'll say." She paused. "Did he tell you about what's been going on?"

Elise nodded. "Yes. Can I get home?"

A tear slipped down her mother's face. "No, darling. Not until they've fixed the air and developed clean modes of transport."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"What do you think?" her father's voice said shakily. "Do what you've done for the last ten years. Crawl into that tube of yours and sleep until it's fixed. It's only another five years. Or two seconds on your time."

"Dear, stop it," her mother scolded.

"Is that true, Mom? Is that what I'm supposed to do?"

Mrs. Greenley nodded. "Yes. Call Steve first and check on the money. Make sure he tells you everything. Tell him what you want him to do."

Her father coughed loudly in the background. "I have to go take care of your father. He's got a cold. We'll see you in another five years, Elise."

The look of pain on her mother's face was unbearable. Slowly, Elise nodded. "OK. Goodbye, Mom."

"Goodbye." The face on the other end of the line fought back the tears as the line went dead. Elise closed her own eyes and reached out with her hands to touch the cold screen. "I'm sorry, Mom," she whimpered.

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After a few moments, she gathered her senses and gave the next instruction to the computer. "Dial Steve Drayman, stock broker at..."

"Dialing."

"How do you know which Steve Drayman I'm referring to? There must be hundreds."

"I am familiar with all of your acquaintances. The probability that I am dialing the correct Steve Drayman is quite high."

It was correct. Steve's face appeared on the screen. He was at the office, dressed very professionally in what looked to be an expensive suit.

"Hi, Elise," he said.

"Steve! You look great. Been doing all right for yourself?"

"Definitely. It's been a good few years."

"Steve, I'm going back under until they fix these environmental problems because I can't fly home. Just tell me how my money is doing. Tell me the whole truth." Those were her mother's exact instructions.

Steve nodded and began slowly. "Three years ago, all currencies were converted into yen-francs. Dollars no longer exist. One million dollars equaled two hundred thousand yen-francs at the time we converted your money. You had forty million dollars, so that worked out to eight million yen-francs. Now you have--" He paused and typed on a keyboard, looking at a separate screen which Elise could not see. "--twenty-million yen-francs."

"Hey, that's a pretty good return, Steve," she said.

Steve nodded solemnly. "Yes, percentage-wise, I've done very well for you. Should I continue for five more years?"

"Please do."

"See you then, Elise."

The screen went blank.

Elise rose and stretched. She knocked on the window, and out in the central area, Westinghause looked up. She indicated her bed, and he nodded. She held up five fingers, and he nodded some more. Five more years, she thought. What am I missing?

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With that, she climbed into the mini-chamber. She cast one last glance nervously in the direction that Arch Desmond had been and then curled up with her legs hugged against her chest. The lid came down, and the lights went out.

2034

This time, the lights were on before she realized it. Her body felt as if she had been laying awake for several minutes. The lid was already up, and it was warm in the room. She leapt out of the container and looked around. Everything looked pretty much the same. Nothing was changed.

"Good day," the computer said.

"Hello." She looked around. "Where is Dr. Westinghause?"

"Dr. Westinghause is dead," the computer replied with absolutely no emotion.

Her heart sank. "Who is running this station?"

"The station is fully capable of running itself under my control."

Elise looked down at the desk and took a seat. "Dial my mother."

"Your mother has died."

"Dial my father."

"Your father has died."

"When did they die?"

"Mrs. Marge Greenley died January 13, 2033. Mr. Burt Greenley died March 23, 2033. Dr. Alfred Westinghause died June 1, 2034."

"Causes of death in each case, in the order that you stated them."

"AIDS-9. AIDS-9. Old age."

Her brain managed one last question before the news registered in her mind. "How old was Dr. Westinghause?"

"Born June 18, 1950. Seventy-nine years of normal life. Four years of cryo-life."

18 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com

Her parents, dead, of AIDS-9. Her mind started doing quick calculations. Her first sleep had begun in 2018. Then 2023. Then 2028. "Computer, repeat date of Dr. Westinghause's death, please."

"June 1, 2034."

"What is today's date?" she demanded excitedly. She should have come out of cryogenic sleep in 2033.

"June 19, 2034."

"Why did I sleep for an extra year?"

"It was decided that you would remain in cry-state as long as the probability for successful environmental restoration continued to increase. Once stability was achieved, you were to be awakened."

"So they fixed the planet," she said, more as a comment than a question.

"No. Probability of success has been flat at 95.4% for nine months. It has begun to drop. Under those conditions, you were to be awakened and informed."

"What went wrong?"

"In addition to environmental destruction, AIDS-9 contaminated the planet. The latest chain of the virus, first discovered on September 22, 2032, is transmitted through the air. Like a common cold, it can attack anyone's immune system. Probability of saving the planet from both AIDS- 9 and environmental collapse given current technologies is 4%."

Elise looked around the room. "How many people are dead?"

"Eighty percent of the 2033 population is estimated dead. Most others are infected or unable to protect themselves."

A thought crossed her mind. "Dial Steve Drayman, stock broker at..."

"Dialing."

It figured that Steve would still be alive.

He answered the phone and looked shocked. He wore a full body suit. Not for fashion. It was a self-contained, air-filtering unit, like a space suit from the 1960's.

"Elise!"

19 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com

"Steve. You're still alive."

He shrugged. "Not forever, but for now. I can afford this thing, and it keeps me alive."

"How am I doing, Steve?" she asked.

She couldn't make out the look on his face. "You seem to be doing fine. The building that you are in is protected from the outside. There's no chance of your catching it in there, I don't think. Not unless it mutates through a wall next time."

"And my money?"

He smiled, but there was something false about it. "One hundred million yen-francs. Pretty good, eh?"

It sounded good. But it was of no use right now. "What should I do, Steve?"

"Crawl back into your bed and have the computer wake you up in a few years. Maybe things will get better."

"How is that possible?"

"Well, CetaCorp is up on the moon now. Their whole station is operational, and they are constantly running experiments on the air down here. The entire stock market fluctuates based on the news of that one stock. Someday, they should be able to find a cure, unless they die out, too. Then again, who knows if they'll bother saving us. We are pretty insignificant in their conceited minds. Just look at what they did a few years back and all."

"What was that, exactly?"

"You know, the cleansing. No, we just have to hope that they come up with a cure and that they use it if they get it. Anyway, I have to go. Call me next time you're..."

"Wait, Steve. Just out of curiosity, how has the CRYO stock performed over the last ten years?"

Steve laughed. "CRYO was bought out by CetaCorp eight years ago. Cryogenics is important to their work on the moon. See ya' in a few, Elise." The line went dead.

20 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com

Cleansing? What had he meant be that? "Computer, briefly list some of the most important historical events in the last ten years."

"Define important."

"Having a large effect on the world or world's population."

The computer went into speech mode. "2024, the dollar is changed to the yen-franc. 2026, the environment collapses. 2026, strong period of hyper inflation. 2027..."

"Stop. Define hyper inflation as it pertains to the last ten years."

"There were two periods of hyper inflation in the last ten years, one in 2026 and one in 2027. Some analysts suggest that the periods were actually the same. The inflation rate reached as high as eighteen thousand percent per month in August 2026."

Elise began to quiver. "Computer, calculate the value of one hundred million yen-francs in dollars from the year 2018."

There was a pause. "One hundred million yen-francs today is roughly equal to fourteen dollars and eighteen cents in 2018 currency."

Suddenly, Elise realized that she was thirsty. She walked over to the endtable. The same glass of water sat there, as it had now for virtually ten years. No one had touched it. She picked it up to take a drink. "My glass is half-empty," she declared.

"There is a water dispensing machine in the main control area."

Elise downed the rest of the large glass.

"Continue with list of important events."

"2027, CetaCorp engages in racial cleansing of Negro citizens, claiming that people matching that description were not sufficiently beneficial to the planet's worsening conditions to justify saving. Special circumstances were accepted only for entertainment purposes."

A rush of adrenaline flowed through her body. "I thought I was looking for a better world," she said. She glanced in the direction of Arch Desmond's machine. "Computer, what happened to..."

"He was killed in the racial cleansing of 2027."

21 This Day by Christopher J. Mercer Short Fiction brought to you by www.alienzoo.com

There was a long moment of silence. Time seemed to pass quickly and slowly at once. The pain of recent news convinced Elise that she needed to return immediately to cry-state. If I go to sleep, maybe some of this will be better next time I wake up. Maybe the world can fix itself without me.

But how long was enough? Five years. Perhaps ten. Even Steve Drayman would be dead by then. She remembered a conversation they had had some sixteen years earlier. It seemed like only yesterday. "Someday, the scientists will be able to keep us alive forever," he had said.

She turned to look long and hard at the bed on which she had slept for sixteen years. "Computer, is there any danger of catching AIDS-9 in here."

"Not in its current state."

That was comforting. "Is there any chance of cryogenic system failure?"

"None."

Elise swallowed. "Can you wake me from cry-state if and when the planet's crises are solved?"

"Affirmative."

"Then do so. And put me into cry-state immediately." She looked down at the bed, knowing that her opinion of humanity hinged on whether she ever awoke. What a curious thought, she decided. To place all of one's faith on one possible event that one may never be around to see. She had slept away her chance to save the world in which she lived, and now she was going to sleep until someone decided to make things right.

And if they didn't, she would never know if it were by intent or impossibility. She glanced at the table. Sleeping and living-now one and the same, her only option in a world out of her control. Her own glass was now empty. As the lights began to dim, she pulled her legs up into an embryonic position and wondered if the world's was too.