But that brought her to wonder for a moment how she was being fed because she didn’t feel thirsty or hungry. She felt around her tummy for any telltale equipment or tubes but there was nothing there. Neither was there a roll of fat around her middle, but somehow, she failed to notice.
Chapter Five
Alice felt comfortable with Kelly and Dr Grossmith but wary of Dr Clere, who, although appearing interested in her welfare, possessed a far less friendly manner than Dr Grossmith, making it difficult for her to respond to him—besides she didn’t believe his story about her heart.
Dr Grossmith always greeted Alice as if she were indeed his special patient and she looked forward to his visits. This morning, Dr Clere didn’t even remember his manners, failing to acknowledge Alice before starting his probing around her face and chest with the little white pencil thingy and peering into her eyes, gazing first into one, then the other, his prune face set with concentration. He declared her fit to begin.
Alice looked at each person in the room. Begin what? Dr Grossmith folded back her lovely blanket and smiled his encouragement.
“Today is a celebration,” he explained. “Each time we got you up and moving before, you needed full neuromechanical aids. Now, because you are alert and responsive, we can assess your balance and possibly scale your walking aids right back to a simple calliper.”
“You want me to walk, Dr Grossmith?”
“If you are up to it, but if you become unsteady or anxious, you can stop and try again when you feel ready.”
Get out of bed? Anxious? Alice was all for it. Without another word, she swept her legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet on the floor. She stood tall, with one hand just touching Kelly’s arm to maintain her balance. The two doctors looked stunned.
“That was unexpected,” Dr Grossmith murmured to an equally surprised Dr Clere.
“Well, I didn’t need to ask twice did I, my dear?” Dr Grossmith couldn’t help himself. He beamed with pride and pointed to Alice’s hand. “Now, let go of Kelly’s arm and see if you can take a few steps unaided. We won’t let you fall.”
But Alice had no intention of falling and even though the first step threatened her equilibrium somewhat, she recovered herself, holding up her hand to make sure Kelly didn’t rush to help. The second step was slow but easier, the third and fourth steps—felt wonderful! She was walking again! Alice looked up, her frown of concentration giving way to a huge smile! She reached the wall and taking great care, turned and began the return journey to her bed, but as she moved forward, it wasn’t so easy anymore—maybe that touch of arthritis in her hips was causing a little stiffness because she couldn’t keep her co-ordination. She reached out to Kelly for assistance, who only offered her hand in token support. By the time Alice reached the bed, she had adopted a more shuffling gait but determined she would stay upright and willed her back to be strong and sure.
She flopped onto the bed, triumphant! Nothing would diminish this achievement, not even Dr Clere’s prune face expression and grudging admiration.
“It appears your faith has been rewarded, Grossmith.”
But he wasn’t listening. Dr Grossmith had waited for this moment for decades and now it had arrived, he was bursting with pride and completely focused on Alice’s achievement. Kelly pointed out to him that Dr Clere had spoken, so he turned, catching the echo of his colleague’s words.
“I’m most relieved that it has, Dr Clere, but your own skill has been a significant factor in her recovery.”
Dr Clere inclined his head to accept the recognition, then inclined it again towards Alice with a curt, “I look forward to hearing about your progress, Dr Langley.”
But she wasn’t ready enough with her thanks. Dr Clere had already vanished through the wall.
Dr Grossmith turned his attention back to Alice. This was a proud moment for him, having watched over her sarcophagus for so many years, almost reliving his sense of awe and privilege when he witnessed her awakening ten years ago, now, hearing her speak and seeing her walk was the fulfilment of his life’s dream. And there she sat, smiling, proud and happy, unaware of what her accomplishment in this room today represented. In danger of becoming emotional, he cleared his throat noisily before speaking.
“Well, you did all that with very little help.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Alice was too pleased with herself to notice any wavering in his voice. “I don’t want to be in hospital forever, Dr Grossmith, I promise I’ll do everything I’m told to help me get better.”
“Then you will be out of here and getting back to a normal life in no time. How does that sound?” He helped her to settle back into bed—he knew it wasn’t necessary, but the time fast approached when she would no longer need him or his help.
“That sounds wonderful, Dr Grossmith, but I still have questions,” she shifted over to make room for him to sit beside her on the bed. “Can you spare me a few moments?”
“We can talk for a while.” There was no urgency to leave. “Later, Kelly is taking you for a walk on the station. We’ll use a calliper, only as a precaution.”
The station? Alice wondered if, in real life, they were transferring her to a different hospital but then, it would be by ambulance, not by train? She wasn’t that good at walking yet.
Before Dr Grossmith agreed to answer any questions, he needed to tell Alice the story of a woman called Alexis Langley. Alice listened, but didn’t understand the meanings of the big words he used, in any case, he left her behind in the opening paragraph with his explanation he was both a medical doctor and an anthropologist who studied ancient plastination techniques and cryopreservation to help him with his work on an important project.
This project, he told her, didn’t have the advantage of previous studies, no precedents, no other specimens, no-one with experience to assist and he had to deal with many differing opinions from the scientific community.
The subject of the project, a woman—Alexis Langley, had many years before been desperately ill. Her uncle preserved her in the hope that one day, sometime in the future, when medicine had advanced, she might be revived.
Dr Grossmith explained that Alexis had been in a sarcophagus for many years, but she wasn’t preserved after her death in the usual manner of cryopreservation, a method that invariably failed, Alexis Langley had been preserved during life, sometime in the days or hours before her death. The method of the preservation had defied analysis through the years and Alexis Langley remained suspended, sleeping, safe in her impenetrable shroud.
The early scientific teams had uncovered documents and data relating to her illness, written by her uncle, in the cavern where Alexis was found and while this information appeared authentic, no-one, not even the great scientific minds through the ages had ever penetrated or even obtained a sample of the shell which encased her, or discovered the secret of the fluid in which she slept. At first, they had thought she might be a remarkably well-preserved corpse but over time, as technology advanced, they detected brain activity and with it, the realisation she was a perfectly preserved, living, human female.
The recounting of the story reminded Dr Grossmith of the contempt he faced when he suggested that, because the anticipated term of her preservation had not been documented, she was where her uncle intended and would, as Sleeping Beauty in the fairy story, one day awaken from her long sleep unaided. This suggestion coined the phrase, Sleeping Beauty Phenomenon, taking over from the previous, cold and scientific title of the project.
Alice didn’t know what to say. The story appeared to hold great relevance to Dr Grossmith, but she wished she understood what it signified and why he’d told her.
“That’s an amazing story, Dr Grossmith,” she said, impressed he could remember such detail without referring to a book. “But you used words I didn’t understand, so I did get a little lost, I’m sorry. I’m not sure why you even told me about this poor lady. It sounds like a terrible thing to have happened. I’ve heard of people being fr
ozen after they died but I didn’t know what they called it. Cryo…?”
“Cryopreservation. Cryogenics,” he finished her question with a couple of suggestions of his own. “Many labels were given over the years, and it was big business during the 20th and 21st centuries, people became wealthy by offering an immortality service, but no-one has ever been revived from any of these techniques.”
“Do you remember that you called me Alexis one time?” That was the name of the lady in the story.
“Yes, I remember, because the story I told you,” he felt almost as if he dared not say it, dared not confirm to her the truth—the truth about her.
“You are Alexis Langley.”
Alice would have laughed had she not seen the respect in Dr Grossmith’s eyes. Dr Clere had said “Dr Langley” earlier but Alice thought he’d just made a mistake. Now, Dr Grossmith was insisting this story was about her. She lifted her hand, her fingers outstretched, in an unmistakable ‘STOP’. This is all nonsense anyway, she decided, with words she had never heard before and had no use for. May as well nip it in the bud right now.
“My name is Alice Watkins,” she said, drawing out each word for emphasis.
He smiled. “Your name, my dear, is Alexis Langley, Dr Alexis Langley.”
She shook her head, her lips firm. She didn’t know Alexis Langley, and she also knew for certain she wasn’t a doctor, she had far too little education. There was nothing left but to tell him her version of her life.
He listened, but his own confusion grew as she related what sounded like a categorically dull existence. Her assertion she knew nothing of Alexis Langley, save what she learned from his account, gave room for disquiet.
“You’ll remember in time, I’m sure,” he tried to calm her anxiety, realising his reassurances were as much for his own benefit as for hers. “We had no way of knowing your memory would be so disrupted but I assure you, when you do remember, you will take your place in the world again.” He hoped with all his heart that would be the case.
“I have a place in the world, doctor,” Alice said. “A nice place. It’s as a grandmother to five grandchildren, looking after the cat and being a mum to Michelle and Steven, that is my place in the world and I’m content with it.” She made sure she spoke with respect, she would not forget her manners, Dr Grossmith was a nice man, an important man but now, as she was progressing, she needed him to listen.
He decided he would indulge those glimpses into a past she believed to be hers. They may be a pathway to uncovering her true memories and there was no time like the present to start that recovery.
“Tell me again the last thing you remember?”
“If you think it will help, doctor. I was waiting for Michelle to drop the children off at school before coming to collect me to go out for my birthday. I’m turning 65.”
Alice had the sequence of events sorted now and her mind clear on the facts.
“Do you remember the date?”
“Of course, November 1st was the day I was going out. My birthday is November 4th.
She noticed his eyebrows twitch ever so slightly.
“A birthday is a significant event?”
“Yes, I told you, my 65th birthday.”
Dr Grossmith made a comment to Kelly, who handed him a large cloth.
“Your 65th birthday? Would you mind describing yourself—your appearance?”
Alice thought it an odd request. She was right in front of them. They could see for themselves, couldn’t they? But she would do as requested and describe to them what she saw the last time she looked in a mirror.
“I’m short, I have white hair, with a perm and a blue rinse. I am a little overweight, not too much, though,” she added, “and I have chin hairs now as well.”
Dr Grossmith made no reply, but with a flick of his wrist, the cloth opened into a large rectangle. Kelly indicated to Alice to get out of bed and stand up. Alice obeyed and without a word, Dr Grossmith manoeuvred the cloth rectangle to position it in front of her. It looked like a full-length mirror, hanging in the air without wires to hold it up. Perfectly lit, it afforded the viewer the most accurate of reflections.
But Alice’s reflection was not as she expected—that of an old lady with a few wrinkles and chin hair—off to the beauty salon. In this mirror, her reflection had changed—the image of a much younger woman stared back at her—a young woman with a small, neat nose, well-defined, arched eyebrows and a mouth that curled softly in a puzzled smile. She was taller than Alice and had she been less pale, Alice would have thought her beautiful.
The woman’s hair, red to the point of carroty, bore no resemblance to the shiny locks Alice dreamed of, it looked more like the colour of a faded carrot, the one that got left in the bottom of the fridge for too long and lost its vibrancy. Her hair was tied back, and little wispy curls framed the forehead. She looked to be around 30 and Alice had never seen her before in her life. A pale, frail figure she didn’t recognise, wearing a long grey shift, hanging loosely on a too slender frame. As Alice gazed at her, the woman gazed back, her green eyes shining with a radiance that contrasted starkly with her otherwise pallid features.
Alice pointed to the image and turned to Dr Grossmith, her finger still poked in accusation towards the mystery woman.
“That’s not me,” she said, “that mirror has made a mistake.”
“It is you,” Dr Grossmith countered, standing next to her so their reflections stood side by side. She could see he was exactly as he appeared. “This is what you looked like when you were found,” he indicated to the mirror, “except you had no hair, and this is what you look like now. We expected you to start ageing when the sarcophagus opened ten years ago, but you didn’t; that process only began in the last year.”
“That can’t be me,” she protested. “There is no way I can change from being an old wrinkled person into a pretty young girl, plus I don’t know anyone in the family who has ginger hair—so that is not me.”
Kelly and Dr Grossmith could see she believed it to be a prank. Alice took one last look at the mirror and sat back on the bed, unsure she could endure any more of this. She’d done so well today, but the sense of achievement was disappearing as quick as a doctor through a wall.
Dr Grossmith saw the barriers going up and wished he could leave her be, but a few things needed clarification. Now she had returned fully to a conscious state and despite her memory loss, new systems and protocols needed to be put in place, to protect and educate her.
“You mention children?” Dr Grossmith said, trying to coax but Alice folded her arms and didn’t answer. “You are convinced you have children and grandchildren?”
What’s the point, Alice thought, don’t argue, go along with it, so she nodded, looking at both Dr Grossmith and Kelly.
“You must know I do, doctor,” she sighed. “My daughter will be shocked to know what has happened to me. I don’t even understand what happened myself, but she will come looking for me.”
“You’ve never had children,” Kelly said, knowing somehow, she was delivering bad news, so she came to sit with Alice, placing her hand on her shoulder, hoping she could offer a measure of comfort.
“I have two.” Alice was not to be dissuaded. She knew precisely how many children she had.
“According to our information and our physical examinations,” Dr Grossmith put his hand up to his chin, “you have never conceived. We retrieved the data your chip contained, it remained intact and functioning throughout your stasis so for a primitive device, it was remarkably durable. The data from this chip, including the date it was inserted into your spine, left us in no doubt about who you are. No doubt at all. When the sarcophagus opened, you were in immediate danger and required a life prosthesis. This prosthesis gives us a full picture of your past and present health. My dear, you have never been pregnant.”
Alice’s simple mind was reeling. Chip? Sarcophagus? Words to boggle and bewilder. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wanting to sleep agai
n so she could disappear, for whenever she slept, there would be the chance of waking up in her real life, but even though Dr Grossmith saw her weariness, he made no move to leave.
“I don’t know what you mean by chip?” she said, at last. This news was meant for someone else, a clear case of mistaken identity and she said so.
But Kelly and Dr Grossmith were both resolute, assuring her she was Dr Alexis Langley, just as they said and that this was a challenge for them too. There was no manual for a human body surviving centuries of preservation Dr Grossmith tried to explain to the still uncharacteristically belligerent and unresponsive Alice, and that he only had his instincts, his patience and his faith plus a hell of a lot of luck. So far, she was a success, the only one of her kind.
When she didn’t respond to his words, he wondered, whose success? He only watched over her and stayed close during those last years of her long sleep. Her awakening had been orchestrated by a power or science over which he had neither control nor knowledge. He vowed to answer her questions wherever he could and in so doing, possibly gain an insight into this unique wonder with the defiant expression, seated on the bed in front of him.
“Everyone is microchipped at birth,” he would use ordinary terms where he could, even though he knew he had a habit of straying into technical jargon. “All biological data is stored within the chip, at least in the ones we have today. The chip we found inserted in you was ancient technology, only recording DNA, drug use and certain medical conditions.”
The Afterlife of Alice Watkins 1 Page 4
