Thawing A.C. Nielsen--Sharing Ch. 8

This just in-- a five star review from "Readers Favorite"! Will be posting it here soon (and to Amazon on my page there when I finally have it up and running).

Today I'm sharing chapter eight of "Thawing A.C. Nielsen! I hope you'll read it. I'm trying to share a chapter a day, although at some point I will have to take them all down as the book starts to go to press.

I am wondering if any of you would consider reviewing the book. It will be released on Amazon/Kindle on October 18th. I need reviews posted to amazon on the release day, if possible. You get a FREE pdf, word.doc or .mobi (Kindle ebook file) copy  and plenty of time between now and mid-October to read it. Let me know, friends!


In Chapter eight Kate competes the tour of ExitStrategy and learns more about the history of cryonics. This chapter took a lot of research and some effort in world-building, re: the cryonics facility.

I had  little fun referencing the origin of the iconic movie Blade Runner, starring Harrison Ford, which was a screen adaptation of Philip Dick's novel "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?":

“Interesting,” Kate replied. “Do you think they dream? I mean all these people. What would they dream about?”

“You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you? Well, I don’t think they dream of electric sheep, we’ll leave that to the androids—maybe more like how to get ahold of a plush electric blanket and set it on extra-high, I bet,” Mike said, chuckling.

 CHAPTER EIGHT

“Miss Pearson is here, Mr. Burgess.”

“Very good, Keith. Thanks for staying late. You can take off now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Burgess.”

“Thanks for letting me use the company car, Mike. That was very nice of you,” Kate said.

“Not a problem. Well, how about I show you the last remaining things you need to see? Shall we?”

“Of course.”

“All right. So over here, Kate, opposite your lab, is the operating room. This is where all the patients make their transition—their ‘exit strategy.’ Step on in.”

“It looks just like a hospital operating room, I would venture. What are some of the procedures?”

“Well, first let me tell you that all the patients have signed a Body Donor Agreement. Technically they are donating their body to ExitStrategy. But instead of the usual, you know, a body going to an educational institution as a cadaver for students to study, or to a research project, we’re going to put them in stasis as quickly as possible. The donor status ensures that we are covered legally. We have other forms as well—agreements made between our patients and us, and these are not meant to be divulged to the outside world. We also, at times, videotape patients just before their procedure. They are on camera stating their wishes for cryo. It’s a pretty good idea, especially since there have been a few times where we sensed that certain patients’ family members might want to battle us.”

“So you’ve had battles?”

“Nope. Knock on wood—it’s never happened. We’ve been surprised by that. Ironically, the only battle we’ve had was with an actual cryo patient. She was insistent on getting what she wanted. Enzo decided she was right, so she got it. Franklin and I gave in. In the long run, she and Enzo were right. It actually changed how we do things around here.”

“What happened? What did she want?”

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later. Let’s just stick to the mini-tour script for now, okay?”

“Sure, that’s fine, Mike. Wait—so do these people have funerals? It would seem antithetical to their beliefs. They’re denying death, right?”

“They usually will have a memorial service. Some who don’t want to divulge that they’ve gone into cryo may stage a funeral, but there’s no body in the casket. In those cases, only a few people at the service may know about the choice for cryo. However it plays out, we haven’t really had any problems. Don’t forget, most of our clients are wealthy, powerful, and famous. They’ve been calling their own shots for years. Not too many people around them are going to buck them when they choose to be a part of ExitStrategy.”

“I understand. So walk me through the procedure.”

“I’ll give you the highlights,” Mike said. “The body is cooled quite a bit to minimize any chance of early decomposition. As quickly as we can, we open the femoral arteries. We drain most, but not quite all of the blood out of one, while we inject our glycol-based cryofluid on the other side. For the most part, Chrissy and a partner do this. They are very good at it.”

“Wait. You have licensed medical people for this? You can’t just use anybody, right?”

“Chrissy is a licensed RN. She studied to become one specifically so that she could participate. Enzo Saltieri was the supervising MD, of course. We had other doctors and nurses on call when needed.”

“You said ‘had,’ not have. What’s that mean?”

“Good catch, Kate. We haven’t cryo’d anyone in three years.”

“Why not? Wait, what about Enzo? Didn’t he want to go into cryo?”

“We’ll get to that soon, Kate. Anyway, no one alive right now under contract with us has died recently, for one thing. We’ve been okay with that. You mentioned you wanted to think about the ethics of all this, right? Well, actually that hit us a while back. Enzo and I began to realize that we needed time to review the ethical implications of going the next step—of reviving people. I mean, who’s responsible if we bring back someone now, or years from now, and they’re alive but a vegetable? Who is responsible for their quality of life? What if their family doesn’t exist in the future? What will the society of the future say? Enzo and I rushed into some of this too quickly. We were too excited to start the company and get it running. But as we got older we realized that there were issues, big and small, that colored this whole thing. Understand?”

“Of course. I totally understand that, Mike. And I’m actually glad you’re saying this. We are in an ethical gray area, right? Life, death, some kind limbo in between? It does raise millions of questions.”

“Correct, Kate. So, moving on, after we have the cryo preservative in their body, the fluid that protects against icing, as well as the helium gas perfusion of the entire body to protect against ice formation in between cells, we start really dropping the temperature. As I told you before, we don’t just do the knee-jerk thing the other facilities have always done—simply freezing all the way down to liquid nitrogen level. We don’t even hit the glassy state I told you about, so we’re nowhere near liquid nitrogen temperature. At the temperature we use, there can still even be a tiny amount of biological process going on at the molecular level, believe it or not. I mean laymen don’t get that, but I’m sure you would appreciate this as a biologist. Granted, there is no measurable heartbeat, no EEG. We also cycle the temperature up and down and periodically force more helium into the environment. You’ll see the readout and hear that at each pod, and it’s all computer controlled.”

“Why the temperature shifts?”

“Enzo believed the body needs variety, that some kind of external stimulus, or at least change in the environment is good for the body. I don’t understand his research and formulas on this—maybe you will!”

“Yes, I get most of the ideas I’m hearing. Brilliant, actually. And your expertise in heat transfer is what makes all this possible and affordable over many years, right?”

“Correct, Kate. We think that our process will result in the least amount of cellular damage and the best chance for revival. Of course, that’s your new job, understand? Examining all of that. My fresh set of brilliant, young eyes.”

“Wait, let’s go back a sec.” Kate drummed her fingers on the steel table in the room, trying to keep her focus on what questions to ask. “When you begin this process, these people have just died, right? They have a death certificate from a doctor, correct?”

“Yes. But we don’t actually agree with what that certificate says. A death certificate is just a piece of paper that society thinks should exist. In our case, the patient has just shown the early signs of physical death, just initial function failures—that is all. We believe that they are still alive. That is our position here. Did you know the most recent studies show that brain cells last far beyond the current definition of death? People can laugh all they want at us, but those are folks who don’t know recent research. When we place someone in cryo, we are preserving their more important functions for them. You stopped breathing or your heart stopped—so what? We will preserve you, we will save you—literally save you. We really do believe in this, Kate. Remember what I said about the brain cells? Let me ask you, Kate—what makes you, you? What is it about Katherine Pearson that makes her the person she is—that people say, ‘Oh look, there’s Kate Pearson’?”

“Well, other than my appearance, I would say personality, I guess. They would know my smile, how I talk, what I think about the world.”

“And where is that? Where is it stored?”

“In my brain, obviously. Memory, the collected basis for my views and my personality, right?”

“Correct. That recent research I mentioned posits strongly that brain cells, especially core memory cells, are still functional far beyond the point where a doctor would readily agree to sign a death certificate. These cells do not die quickly—they are still functional for hours, even days past so-called death. I’ll show you the research from legitimate cutting-edge sources, not quacks.”

“Wow, seriously? So you honestly believe that the patients here have much more than just their physical bodies in stasis, that you have preserved their memories as well, and that you can restore full brain function upon revival?”

“Absolutely. I have to, otherwise we are just freezing and thawing flesh—not real human individuals. And as you mull all of this over, it goes to show you, again, that we really don’t know what divides life from death. We are still stumbling blindly, just guessing at things.”

“This is pretty amazing stuff. So now what?”

“Let’s walk down the B wing. Ready?”

“Okay, here we go, Kate,” Mike began. “This was the first patient wing built. The cryo system control starts at the center of the hub—you know, the big tower of power, as Chrissy calls it, and runs right underneath the floor we’re walking on. As you see, we have people in cryopods running down each side of the wall. These first forty or so are the steel pods, not the new design. The equipment below us feeds up to each of these pods. There’s an outer pod, and then an inner one. We’ve got readouts on the whole system and each individual pod. Norm oversees all this with the help of a young woman named Deirdre. She also helps me run my calculations. Brilliant kid, just a little older than you. Actually, you two might hit it off—not everyone here is an old-timer.”

“This is amazing. So who are all these people? It looks like there are about eighty stations along each wall—so about 160 patients in this wing alone?”

“You’re a bit off—there are sixty on each side, thus 120 patients in this wing. Evens over here and odds on the opposite side. So here, let me tell you about some of them. B34 here—she’s a ballerina; B36, an author; B38, a well-known scientist. Across there is B39, a politician whose name you would know. It’s an impressive assemblage of people.”

“So, they just lay here and wait? And what killed most of them? You mentioned cancer earlier today.”

“Yes, a lot of these people have cancer, especially pancreatic or metastatic cases. ALS, MS, MD, late-stage Alzheimer’s—there are many illnesses represented here.”

“So, they wait, right? But really, how long?”

“Maybe not too long for some of them. As you know, almost every day around the world there are new treatment ideas and promising medical research. And frankly, it depends on you, too, Kate. After you look the research over, you tell me when we could take a try at it. Try it out on some animals we have frozen here. If it works with the animals and you’ve finalized a procedure, then we could hunt for a patient here whose illness is curable in today’s medical world. I’d sure like to see it happen soon—most people my age have been retired for a while and are out playing golf in sunny Arizona, right? Well, here we are the end of this wing. That’s Benjamin, in B120. He was a public school teacher. He met Franklin at some museum in LA. We have no idea how he saved up a million dollars to spend with us. But here he is, nonetheless.”

“Interesting,” Kate replied. “Do you think they dream? I mean all these people. What would they dream about?”

“You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you? Well, I don’t think they dream of electric sheep, we’ll leave that to the androids—maybe more like how to get ahold of a plush electric blanket and set it on extra-high, I bet,” Mike said, chuckling. “I’m curious. When we first revealed what ExitStrategy does, you panicked. You were nauseous. How did that change so quickly?”

Kate had thought Mike might get around to asking this question. She stared at the floor for a moment, then spoke slowly, yet clearly. “My dad died from cancer. He was in so much pain. It was terrible. Yes, I freaked out for a while the other day. But then I started thinking of my dad—how I lost him and he’s never coming back. Here he would have had a chance.” Kate fought hard to not tear up in front of Mike.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure it must have been hard for you. But here were are now, in the present, right? And the big, big question is this—are you ready? Do you want to be the new head of research at ExitStrategy?”

“Yes, I’ve decided to be bold. I’m young. If I can’t go out on a limb now, take a risk—maybe make a difference in the world—when will I? Sure, this is all quite unusual, but I see your commitment to hard science. The lab alone screams that. You seem to be a brilliant man. So heck yeah, I’m in!”

“That’s fabulous, Kate. I’m so pleased—you have no idea. Franklin will be, too. Welcome aboard! Oh, hope you don’t mind—I got ahold of your friend Edouard. We talked over Skype. Lovely young man, very gracious and ridiculously smart. Get this, he said he would be available to you for six months if you want to pursue this.”

“Seriously? You talked to Edouard?”

“Yes, he says he is leaving his current position soon, and he has a new government health appointment lined up with some other Caribbean country. It starts late spring of next year, I think he said. Until that job kicks in he’s available to the highest bidder, he joked.”

“Wow! That’s great to hear.”

“Yes, just the man you hoped for, right? So when I told him what we do here he wasn’t shocked like you were back at the hotel. After all, he’s from Haiti, right? He took it completely in stride. When I explained it all he said Saltieri and I should be in the Vodoun Doctor Hall of Fame!”

“That’s pretty funny. So what’s next?”

“I have your contract here. Take your time and read it over. And you can keep that company car, too. We’ll add a rider to that effect.”

Kate took the document. Everything seemed straightforward. She smiled at Mike. What a wonderful, brilliant man, she thought. “Okay, I’m ready. Do you have that lucky pen your nephew mentioned?”

“Oh yes, somewhere here.” Mike patted his pockets. “Here it is. Kate, I’ve kept this pen for years. Just looking at it now and then keeps me from becoming complacent. Same thing you seem to want to avoid, eh? It’s the pen that General Motors handed me years ago to sign my forced resignation.”

Thawing A.C. Nielsen--Sharing Ch. 7

 This just in-- a five star review from "Readers Favorite"! Will be posting it here soon (and to Amazon on my page there when I finally have it up and running).

Today I'm sharing chapter seven of "Thawing A.C. Nielsen! I hope you'll read it. I'm trying to share a chapter a day, although at some point I will have to take them all down as the book starts to go to press.

I am wondering if any of you would consider reviewing the book. It will be released on Amazon/Kindle on October 18th. I need reviews posted to amazon on the release day, if possible. You get a FREE pdf, word.doc or .mobi (Kindle ebook file) copy  and plenty of time between now and mid-October to read it. Let me know, friends!

 In chapter seven Kate gets to visit the ExitStrategy building and learn more about the history of cryonics. What you'll read is based on true stories about real cryo labs, even the Bumble Bee Tuna anecdote!

I had fun working these two lines in:
 
“Sure, Mike is wooing you big-time. Resistance is futile—you will be assimilated,” Norm quipped.

And later: "Yes, we will talk honestly now. Franklin and I believe in the importance of being earnest, Kate."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Before parting ways at the hotel on Friday, Gloria insisted on scheduling a lunch date with Kate for a month later. “Time for us girls to get to know each other better,” she’d said as she kissed Kate on the cheek. Then it was time for Mike and Franklin to show Kate around Energy Source/ExitStrategy. They left the hotel and drove north on Lake Shore Drive since I-94 was a mess. It was a beautiful day—people out on the lakefront jogging trail, Lincoln Park harbor and the zoo off to the left. They zoomed on, eventually zipping onto Green Bay Road. Mike was driving, so Kate engaged Franklin in some small talk in the backseat.

“So, Franklin, you were an actor? What was that like?”

“Oh, it was great fun. I never hurt for work. And I lived in sunny LA—I still don’t know why Mike insists on living here year-round, brr.”

“Might I have seen you in any films?”

“Yes, and no. When I was really young I did stand-in work. I’d be Ryan O’Neill’s or Warren Beatty’s or someone else’s backside. Did some stunts, too. Just about got killed by a crazy horse one day—threw me and started kicking me. I was in the hospital for a week. I graduated from that racket and did television work back in the 1980s through most of the 1990s. In fact, if you watch reruns I’ll turn up somewhere, of course looking a lot fitter than I am now.”

“So when you had speaking roles what kind of parts did you play?”

“I was typically one of the bad guys. You know, the guy who’s trying to punch out Jim Garner on Rockford P.I.—stuff like that. I had some recurrings for a while, too—Law & Order, a couple other more forgettable shows. I was crap at comedy, so I was pretty much typecast as a bad guy in dramas. The directors liked my threatening scowl. Wanna see?”

“Sure.” Franklin glared at her, his eyebrows arched, his mouth parted to show off some pretty wicked incisors.

“Whoa—that’s good.”

“Yeah, I had steady work. No problemo.”

“Kate, Franklin knows everyone in Hollywood,” Mike piped in. “Not just actors—directors, cameramen, grips, set design, makeup people. Everyone big and small.”

“Ha, maybe because I had a weakness. Well actually, I still have it,” Franklin said.

“And what’s that?” Kate asked.

“I pick up tabs. My dad and Mike taught me that. Always happy to treat others when there was a great get-together. You watch if we ever go out with a group sometime. Everyone will sit there and keep their mouths shut, looking around pretending to not notice that the check has come. They’ll all be waiting for Mike or me to pick it up.”

“We don’t mind—it makes us very popular fellows!” Mike added.

The small talk continued for a while more. They drove past the corporate offices for many Fortune 500 companies. Sandwiched between were small, yet amazing tech start-ups.

“What are all these green and white circular buildings I see?” Kate asked. “Right in back of these companies?”

“Ah, good eyes, Kate,” Franklin exclaimed. “Those are ice system air-conditioning units. I’m glad you noticed them! They’re designed, constructed, and licensed by my uncle.”

“So, Mike? Ice systems?”

“Yes, Kate. It’s heat transfer—what I do. This type is simple enough that a third-grader could understand it. You know there are variable rates for electricity from the power company, right? This system makes ice at night when electric rates are low. Then in the morning, say about six a.m., we shut off the ice production and let the ice melt. Air blown over the ice is cooled and circulated throughout the building. Just repeat every day and voilà—you’ve got a forty-five percent saving in air-conditioning costs. It’s a ridiculously simple formula and it’s an easy Energy Source revenue stream to help out what we’re doing at ExitStrategy. I sure as heck didn’t invent the idea, but I tweaked it for efficiency. And here—we’ve arrived!”

There it was, the home of Energy Source/ExitStrategy and to dozens of patentable discoveries in heat-transfer research, cryonic stasis, and more. Kate was impressed—the building looked like something out of the future.

“Oh my, it’s so huge and so modern,” Kate gasped. “A massive solar array? That must produce crazy amounts of wattage. I wasn’t expecting this. Huh, you have a tennis court off the parking lot—seriously?”

“Yes, built just for you,” Franklin quipped.

“Don’t listen to him,” Mike said. “Gloria Dunham had it built for someone. But you can use it whenever you like.”

“So, this is a big circular wall, and then that’s the building rising out over the top of the wall?”

“Actually, no,” Mike said, prying his girth out of the car. “What looks like a wall is the outside edge of an enormous circular hallway that goes all the way around. If you could see the building from the air you would liken the design to a wagon wheel. That tall part rising up in the middle—see it there? That’s the hub. Then there are five spokes, or wings, which connect to the outer ring you’re looking at now. You’ll get a better idea of it once you’re inside.”

“This must have cost a fortune to build.”

“It did, but in baby steps. We started with the central hub and two wings. The other wings and what we jokingly call the ‘collider ring’ were added later.”

“Collider ring? Oh, yeah, I get it,” Kate said.

“So let’s go in the main entrance, which is the A wing,” Mike said before calling security and then entering. “So, Kate, this wing holds all the offices, including mine and yours. Also, a few office staff, a few people who do the ice construction; licensing, also the sales of the solar energy electricity to our neighboring buildings. There’s my office, and right here is yours. Let’s pop in and take a look.”

“Mike, you make it sound like I’m totally ready to sign a contract,” Kate protested.

“I don’t think that will happen until you see the lab,” Franklin interjected.

“Oh my, this is swanky.” Kate walked here and there, checking out all the highlights: multiple computers and monitors, a video system apparently running a live feed from the lab, whiteboards of various sizes, filing systems, a large steel and glass desk in the center of the room, voice-commanded direct and indirect lighting, a mini-kitchen, a private bath with shower. “It’s beautiful, such a modern design. I think you could live here. This office is as big as my whole apartment.”

“Check out the coat rack, Kate,” Mike said.

“Ooh, look at that, upscale lab coats with my name embroidered by hand, it looks like. All different colors. You’re sparing no expense.”

“That’s true,” Franklin said. “Now walk back out and go to the end of the hallway and you’ll be at the center—the energy center—of the whole building.”

As they left the hall, the space opened up into the circular hub area—the ceiling extended to about forty-five feet. At the center of the hub was a giant monolithic tower.

“Oh, my God. It’s huge. What is that?”

 “Well, guess,” Mike said.

“I’m guessing it’s your main power generator. But it’s almost silent. Is this where the solar energy comes in, over here? And you’ve got some kind of heat-transfer system, maybe this part over here, I’m guessing, to run your cryosystem?”

“That’s pretty close.”

“He’s got about twenty-five patents just sitting there, Kate,” Franklin said. “Not that we’re planning on disclosing the workings of all this yet.”

“Wow, oh wow. This is amazing,” Kate gasped as she walked the entire circumference of the towering steel and copper monolith. There were monitors, displays, dials, and weird-looking gizmos here, there, and everywhere.

“Oh, here come Chrissy and Norm,” Franklin said. “‘Clipboard Norm’ people call him. He’s married to that thing—the clipboard, I mean, not the woman with him. Norm, Chrissy, come on over. I’d like to introduce our new head of research, Katherine Pearson. You know, the one we’ve been telling you about.”

“Oh, it’s so good to meet you, Kate,” Chrissy exclaimed, shaking Kate’s hand. Chrissy appeared to be about fifty, a very fit woman with wavy brown hair, green eyes, and an abundance of freckles. “When do you start?”

“Well, I haven’t even agreed yet. Although I already seem to have a number of lab coats with my name on them.”

“Sure, Mike is wooing you big-time. Resistance is futile—you will be assimilated,” Norm quipped.

“These two have been with me for years,” Mike said. “Chrissy from day one and Norm a little after. I stole him from GM. Norm is the brain behind the brawn of that beast you see in front of you.”

“No, you invented it, Mike. You are the brain. I just keep it running, and happy,” Norm said.

“Mike, what if you had a power outage? What’s the backup?” Kate asked.

“Kate,” Norm interjected, “we are so redundant on energy supply it’s ridiculous. Don’t worry about that!”

“All right, Kate, you ready to see your lab?” Mike asked. “It’s near the start of B wing, over this way. Walk with us, Chrissy, Norm.”

They entered the B wing and immediately ducked into a large room that opened up to total about two thousand square feet.

“Oh my God, look at this,” Kate gushed, trotting from spot to spot. “Electron microscopes—the latest models? Eppendorf centrifuges, a speed vac concentrator, an ELISA washer—this looks like custom glassware over here, right? And computers and monitors everywhere, a sample preparation station, oh wait, three stations? Oh my! Wait, is that what I think it is? A brand new proton ion DNA sequencer? They just bought this model at Northwestern, but they wouldn’t let me touch it—for full professors only. Oh my God, this is insane!”

“Like a kid in a candy shop, right, Mike?” Chrissy said, grinning over at him.

“You bet,” he replied. “Can you blame her? A very expensive, well-stocked candy shop, I might add!”

Kate discovered more and more gadgets and toys to drool over. Maybe it was finally time to put up or shut up, she thought.

“So shall we talk now, Kate?” Mike asked. “Let’s just you and me step into my office and see what you think.”

“All right,” she answered, still overwhelmed by the totally tricked-out lab.

###

“So first let me ask you a couple questions,” Kate said. “Why me? Aren’t I awfully young? All I have is a master’s degree. And why am I replacing a doctor? Shouldn’t you simply just get another MD?”

“Kate,” Mike confided, “we talked to your advising professor at Northwestern. He said you have more potential for creativity than any grad student he’s seen in years. Went on and on about you. We’re looking for serious potential, new ideas. We’re trying to find someone who can do cutting-edge hard science and add a hell of a lot of imagination, too. And someone who isn’t afraid of a failure or two along the way. He says you’re the one, and we believe him. And you’re humble, too. We could just have Norm keep the cryosystem running forever, but we want to go way further. We want to revive these people, not just keep them frozen. What’s the point of that?”

“And what makes you think you can do it? I know we talked about this a little bit, but then Miss Dunham’s lawyer shut things down. Do you want to talk freely to me now? I might be about to commit to this, now that I’ve seen some of the operation. But I need to know where you are, where you are trying to go, and I really need to think about the ethics of this, too. Understand?”

“Yes, we will talk honestly now. Franklin and I believe in the importance of being earnest, Kate. Just to clarify, Randolph Morgan does not work for us. He’s just Gloria’s lawyer. And Gloria has a habit of poking her nose into people’s business. We usually let her do what she thinks she wants because then we just circumvent her anyway. Sometimes this is just a big game for Franklin and me—the ‘Outfox Gloria Game,’ I suppose you could call it. That game goes all the way back to 1985 or so. Franklin has been into mind-games since he was a kid. Believe me, he played devilish tricks on me the whole time he was growing up.”

“So Gloria is a bit of an oddball, I take it. Is she senile, or just weird? Both?”

“Hmm.” Mike doodled on some stationery, trying to decide how to answer the question. “You saw the tennis court. She had it built for an individual who has been here in cryo for years. What does that tell you, Kate?”

“What? A tennis court for someone in cryostasis? That’s crazy.”

“Agreed. Watch yourself around her, okay?”

“Sure. Should be interesting when we have lunch together next month, huh?”

“You’ll be fine. Ninety percent of the time she’ll blather on about her show-biz career and how awful her two ex-husbands were to her. You can just sit and nod. But I have to say that when she learned you played tennis it made her even more interested in meeting you. You also went to the same high school as her tennis-playing friend here in stasis. She tells me it’s fate that you’re here.”

“New Trier? This person went to New Trier High? Hmm, interesting.”

“Yup.”

“All right,” Kate said. “So what truly sets you apart from the corpsecicle places, like you called them? What do I need to know?”

“Saltieri and I agreed, let’s stay away from deep cryo. It’s unnecessary. We go to just before the glassy state and hover there. We don’t chill people to the point that their skulls crack—hey, I noticed that made you gag when I mentioned it. Sorry, but that’s what those hacks do. But don’t worry, they say, the doctors of the future will fix everything! We say stop being barbarians. We can do far better if we apply real science to this field.”

“Keep talking,” Kate said, nodding.

“Enzo and I set out to scientifically reinvent the whole cryonics field—blow past the pseudoscience our competitors were doing. We had a lot of ideas, and some of them were shots in the dark—just hunches. But we think we nailed a lot of stuff. ‘Stuff,’ Kate—that’s a scientific term, you know,” Mike said, his eyes twinkling.

“Hunches or dreams can yield results. You and I know that they’ve been there throughout the history of science, right?”

“Agreed, and I’ve been blessed to have had those moments myself now and then in my career. So we decided to perfuse the body with helium, driving out moisture. In addition, I invented the polymer pods, which are more stable and are less prone to icing and so on. A few other tweaks and changes in procedure I can tell you later. And then the final piece of the puzzle—what Enzo was working on.”

“Yes? Yes? What was it?” Kate asked eagerly, moving forward on her chair.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know,” Mike said, grimacing in frustration. “That’s why you’re here, Kate. He was up to something. But between the lung cancer and the Alzheimer’s he was struggling. It seemed like he had ideas percolating. But when he would tell me about them and I didn’t understand immediately what he was getting at, he would get very frustrated, and then the Alzheimer’s would kick in. He would lose his train of thought and storm away—mad at me, mad at the world. You’ll have all the files to look through. Vet whatever of his you can decipher, or discover solutions yourself. That’s the opportunity here, understand? You’re the one who can decide if we can truly revive these patients—all these wonderful people here, waiting. Let’s walk down to Enzo’s office.”

They walked down the hall to Saltieri’s old office. Mike swiped a keycard, opened the door, and motioned Kate in. “What does this look like to you, Kate?”

“Ha. It looks like Albert Einstein’s office—that famous photo of his office taken on the day he died. It was a mess. Well, to us it looks like a mess, but I’m sure to him it was just how he worked, right?”

“Right. And what you see here is the desk of another genius—Dr. Enzo Saltieri. Enzo taught medicine at the University of Bologna in Italy for years. A small man with a ginormous brain. Johns Hopkins lured him to the States. He was guest lecturing at University of Chicago when we met, and we discovered that we both had a bent for this crazy idea of cryo. Anyway, Kate, all the work is here—and yes, I know it’s a mess. His notes are a jumble, sorry. Some of it is on computer drives, but a lot of it is page after page of scribbles on legal pads. What Franklin and I want you to do is this—take some time, say ninety days, and evaluate absolutely everything Enzo was studying. Beyond that, your real bottom-line assignment is to formulate a procedure to revive the patients here. Make a magic potion, click your ruby slippers three times, or whatever else it might take to turn them back into normal, healthy, walking and talking people again. That’s it in a nutshell. Not so hard, eh, Kate?” Mike grinned.

“Mike, you do realize that every internal organ has to work in order to pull this off, right? And right away we have to fix what killed these people in the first place. What was wrong with most of them when they died?”

“Cancer mostly. And just remember, no cryo company ever promised revival and the cure for any patient’s disease or illness. Cryonics just presents the opportunity for a human body to exist into the future where cures might be discovered, right?”

“Hmm, so much to think about.” Kate stood and paced Saltieri’s office and pulled at her hair—a habit of hers when she was trying to blast through a tough problem. “So what do people pay to be here?”

“What do you think people pay at other facilities?”

“I have no idea, sorry,” she said, stopping to finger through the pile of scribbled-upon papers heaped on Saltieri’s desk.

“For a full-body cryo, the tab is anywhere from eighty thousand dollars on up to two hundred thousand. Pretty steep, huh?”

“Hey, you want immortality you better have the buckos for it, I would guess,” she said, suddenly realizing this whole day was the strangest one of her life. She wondered what Aria would think of all this and how many goofy, comedically inappropriate questions she would ask Mike if given the opportunity.

“Right. So that’s what others charge. Our fee is one million dollars,” Mike declared.

“One million? Wow. Oh my gosh, all I’ve been saying since we got here is ‘wow,’ huh?”

“Yes, I noticed, but who wouldn’t say ‘wow’? You see, Kate, the people we’ve brought in, mostly from Franklin’s networking—the famous actors and directors, painters and sculptors, novelists and sports stars, the old money folks and the nouveau rich lottery winners—none of them are going to try to do this Walmart style. The wealthy can be a pain in the ass and do plenty of stupid stuff, but overall most of them are damned smart with their money. They rarely bargain shop for anything, whether it’s shoes, cars, homes, boats, or a cryo facility. We’re number one because they’ve learned by word of mouth that we are the only ones who care enough about science and have a chance to make this work.”

“And who regulates this? State health agencies? The FDA? No, wait, that makes no sense,” Kate said, confused about how this could be monitored in any logical manner.

“No one. Can you imagine some state-employed drudge comprehending any of this?”

“They’d be very confuzzled,” Kate said, borrowing one of Aria’s favorite made-up words.

“Confuzzled indeed,” Mike said, grinning. “There’s a little patient paperwork involved. Some minor legal issues that I’ll explain to you later. They’re really not a concern. How about some food? I’m starving. Let’s hop over to our lunchroom, okay?” They jaywalked through the hub and entered the cafeteria. They saw Franklin was already there, getting himself an iced tea.

“Hi, Kate,” Franklin greeted, smiling. “Glad to see you again. Walk over this way. So here we’ve got our own chef from eleven a.m. until two. You can order anything you want as long as James has the ingredients on hand. It’s a company perk. Nice, huh? James, this is Katherine Pearson, she’s going to be our new head of research. Are you ready to show off your talents for her?”

“Sure, Franklin. So, Miss Pearson, what have you got a taste for? I do have some killer avocados today, maybe we can work them into something for you,” James said. He was a tall, hunky young man, maybe twenty-five or so. I would definitely enjoy having this man cook for me every day, thought Kate. Bet Aria doesn’t have a chef cooking for her at the symphony in Milwaukee. The best she can usually do is pop into Usinger’s for brats and a beer. Tasty food, but mostly guys with well-developed beer bellies there.

“Well, James, first, just call me Kate. And I would absolutely die for a fajita with those avocados being one of the stars of the day.”

“Not a problem. Chicken? Beef? How do you want it?”

Hmm, there’s a line Aria would jump on. She always knows how to flirt with hunky guys. Wait, I’m here for a job, need to get my mind back on business. “Why don’t you surprise me, okay?”

“Sure thing,” James said, flashing a million-dollar smile.

“Okay, Kate, go get something to drink over there and meet us at a table,” Mike said.

Kate grabbed a bottle of Italian soda. In a few minutes their food was ready and they continued their talk.

“So, Kate,” Mike said, between bites of beef stroganoff, “our operation doesn’t look like a scene from a Svengoolie movie, huh?”

“That’s for sure. But I guess that other lab with Ted Williams’s head, as you told me, would certainly qualify.”

“Kate, do you like tuna?” Franklin asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, don’t gag, but they decided to place each head upside-down on a can of Bumble Bee Tuna to keep it, I mean the head, from sticking to the cryo unit surface. Not kidding!”

“Well, that’ll make her lose her appetite, Franklin. Stop torturing the poor girl.”

“Never you mind, Mike,” Franklin answered. “And then, Kate, guess what happened once when they tried to transfer one of those heads. They picked it up and the can was frozen tight to the head. Now there’s a Svengoolie picture for you, huh? So, they started banging at the can with a hammer, but it wouldn’t pop off until they slammed it like fifty times. I kid you not. It’s all in a book written by a former employee of theirs. Can you imagine?”

Kate suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter. Just the absurdity of it all had finally bowled her over. Mike and Franklin grinned at each other and finally laughed, too.

“Okay, Kate, ha-ha—that was good. We laugh a lot around here, by the way,” Mike said. “Hey, we don’t know how much of that book is true. But there it is. Anyway, back to reality, in your résumé you mentioned a doctor from the Caribbean somewhere, a fellow you worked with now and then on cryobiology projects. What was his name again?”

“Oh, yes, Edouard—Edouard Radelet. Brilliant man. Bet you he’s head of the World Health Organization before he hits forty. An amazing mind.”

“If you’re on board we want to hire him to work with you,” Mike offered. “Would you like that?”

“Would I? Of course. That lab and me with Edouard? That would be amazing, although I don’t know if he’s available.” Kate finished off the last of her delicious lunch. This was a great perk, she decided.

“We’ll figure that out. All right, listen, I have some things to attend to for a few hours,” Mike said. 

 “Could we drop you by your place—it’s close, right? And then meet us back here maybe about seven and we’ll tour the operating room and walk you down a wing or two to see the actual patients. Okay?”

“Sure. Aria—that’s my roommate—can drop me back over.”

“Wait, Mike, why don’t we let her use one of the company cars?” Franklin said. “Enzo’s is sitting there doing nothing except collecting tree sap and bird droppings. He won’t be driving it anytime soon, right? Keith, the head of security will start that car up and hand you the keys, Kate. Meet back here at seven. We’ll have a fancy gold pen for you to sign your contract, won’t we, Mike?”

“Fancy pen? Oh yes. My lucky pen you’re talking about. Right, Franklin?”

“Yessir, Uncle Mike. The lucky pen!”