Tomorrow and Tomorrow

by Charles Sheffield

  “What do you mean, our last few days together?” Drake had been watching the ship’s automatic docking on Charon when Ana’s quiet statement jerked him to attention.

  Had he heard right? Had she really said, “I wish we could have made more of our last few days together.”

  He said, “I thought we could stay here in the outer system for as long as we like.”

  “You can.” She moved to stand in front of him. “But I can’t. I made promises. The people heading for Rigel Calorans are waiting for me, but they won’t wait forever. I have to head out and join them.”

  “But what about us?” And when Ana shook her head, he went on, “Look, if you already made promises to them, I completely understand. I wouldn’t want you to go back on your word. But I have nothing to hold me close to Sol — nothing but you. I’ll come with you, join your group.”

  “No, Drake, that isn’t it at all.” She took his hand in hers. “I like you a lot, and I will never forget that I owe my life to you. But you can’t go with me. Let me put it more brutally: I don’t want you to go with me. I do not love you as you love your Ana.”

  “I don’t believe it. Everything we’ve said to each other, everything we’ve done—”

  “Everything that you have said. We make fine, fond lovers, physically we fit together beautifully, I don’t deny it.”

  “So what’s the problem? Ana, we can talk this through, we always have.”

  “That’s the problem, right there. I’m not Ana — not your Ana. I’m me. You and I have never talked through any problems together. Think about it, and you will realize that what I say is true.” She released his hand and stepped away. “Drake, this is all my fault. I should never have revivified you. I see you looking at me, and I know you are seeing someone else.”

  “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

  “No. You are blind. You want what you see, what you think I am. There’s so much background that you and your Ana shared. I don’t have that, but you don’t even realize it’s missing. Let me give you just one example. You assumed I would know why you call your Servitor Milton, so you’ve never bothered to explain it to me. But I don’t know.”

  “ ‘They also serve who only stand and wait’; an ancient poet, John Milton, wrote that. It was just a sort of joke when I said it, because the Servitor—”

  “Drake, I don’t know and I don’t want to know. I want to leave, right now.”

  “You can’t leave. What will I do without you?”

  “You will become what you were before I appeared to mess up your life: strong, dedicated, brave.” She came toward him, hesitated, and then at last kissed him quickly on the lips as the airlock cycled open. “There’s more to it than that, Drake. I thought you guessed, but apparently you didn’t. I started to tell you once, but you cut me off as though you didn’t want to discuss it.”

  Drake turned. Melissa Bierly was standing in the open doorway. The brilliant sapphire eyes smiled a welcome. There was a radiance and a calmness in her face that Drake had never seen before. Then Ana was rushing forward, and the two women embraced fiercely.

  “Hello, Drake Merlin.” Melissa spoke softly, almost shyly. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You?… and Ana…”

  “We are companions. Life mates. We go as a team to Rigel Calorans.” Melissa, still holding Ana by the hand, came toward him. “We owe you a lot.”

  “Everything,” Ana added. “You are the reason that Melissa and I met. You were not here, Drake, but you brought us together. I sought her out because she had known you.”

  She turned to Melissa. Drake saw again that look in -Ana’s eyes, the totally loving look. He had seen it once before — when they were speaking of Melissa.

  “But we were lovers ,” he whispered. And, when Ana merely nodded, “How could you do that with me, if you are bonded to her?”

  Both woman stared at him in confusion. “For your comfort,” Ana said slowly. “To cheer you, when you were frightened and upset. How could I have done anything else? Melissa would have done no less.”

  Melissa nodded. She placed her arms around Ana, resting her head on her shoulder. “I would, Drake, if you needed me. But Ana did. She soothes pain almost before it is there. That is one reason why I love her.”

  Drake stepped backward and slumped into the ship’s control chair. “And Ana loves you, and not me. I am going to lose her.”

  “Yes,” said Ana. “You will lose me. But don’t get it wrong. I told you, what you will lose is Ana, but it is not your Ana.”

  “I will be without you, again. What can I do? How will I live?”

  Both women came forward and stooped to kiss him on both cheeks.

  “Don’t give up,” Melissa said softly. “Keep your faith, Drake, and go on. We agree with you; somewhere, sometime, you will find Anastasia. Not my Ana. Your Ana.”

  Ana and Melissa stepped away. Hand in hand, they moved toward the airlock. Drake rose halfway out of his seat, as though he intended to follow them. Then he slumped back. The door of the airlock slid shut.

  He was still sitting, staring blindly at the displays of the rugged surface of Charon, when the door opened again. The little Servitor, Milton, eased quietly into the room. It rolled forward to stand at Drake’s side. As though sensing the human’s mood, it did not say a word.

  Milton had been on Charon when Melissa Bierly arrived, and it had listened in on the whole conversation. It knew what would happen next.

  Chapter 14

  “These our actors,

  As I foretold you, were all spirits and

  Are melted into air, into thin air.”

  There was the same pleasant room, the same outlook onto a broad bay and windswept ocean: the Bay of Naples, and farther off the timeless waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea. But this time the sea was slate gray, and to the north, ominous rain clouds stood above the ancient city; in place of the raven-haired gypsy woman, a longhaired person with handsome androgynous features was sitting in the easy chair opposite.

  Drake turned his head back and forth. His neck was slightly stiff, as though he had been sitting for too long in the same position. The ludicrous nature of that thought hit him, as he said, “I’d rather you didn’t bother with all this, you know. I much prefer the real thing.”

  “I think not.” It was a man, judging from the voice. The English he spoke was perfect, accent-free. “There have been… changes.”

  “I expect changes. I need changes. Past eras could do nothing to help Ana. Let’s dispense with the simulations.”

  “That is, I am afraid, impossible.”

  “My body—”

  “Is preserved. Your cryocorpse, together with Ana’s original body, is still in the cryowomb. That womb is no longer held on Pluto, for reasons that will become obvious to you later. However, your body is unchanged. It could be revivified, although as you see we no longer find it necessary to reanimate you in order to converse. We are maintaining a direct superconducting link with your brain.”

  “Who are you?”

  “That also calls for explanation.” The man smiled, an easy and friendly grin that seemed impossible to simulate. “Let us say, I am ‘such stuff as dreams are made on.’ As you can see, after the misunderstanding of your last resurrection we have made an effort to be familiar with the writings of your times. Call me Ariel, if you must have a name familiar to you from that era. With your permission, I will now bring someone else to this meeting.”

  “Melissa, and Ana’s clone…”

  Drake had asked, as strongly as a man with no real power could ask, that he remain frozen until something could be done to restore to him the original Ana; but his last awakening had taught him that others had their own overriding needs.

  Ariel shook his blond tresses. “Not Melissa Bierly, nor the clone of Anastasia.”

  “Are they alive?”

  “I would say yes; but not in any form that would be recognizable to you. Patience, Drake Merlin. Much has happened,
and much needs to be said and done. First, however …”

  The man did not move, but at his side a familiar sphere topped by a metal whisk broom blinked into existence.

  “With profound apologies.” The Servitor nodded its eyeless head toward Drake. “Your instructions to me upon freezing were quite explicit: only when new information was available concerning Ana’s condition were you to be resurrected. However, upon reflection I judged it necessary to interface with you before taking certain other required actions. I recognize that an argument could be made that you have not in fact been reanimated, and therefore that your instructions have not been disobeyed. However, I reject that as a form of special pleading on my own behalf.”

  “You are Milton? You don’t sound at all as you used to.”

  “I am Milton, but in composition more than Milton. I appear in this form only for your convenience. Although much time has passed, I remain your Servitor and obey your commands.”

  “How much time?” Drake sat up straight, aware that his real body deep in cryosleep could not move a micrometer. What miracle of science gave him total control of this other body, in derived reality? What magic permitted his supercooled brain to think? “Don’t offer me the same runaround as I had last time. How long has it been since I returned to the cryowomb?”

  There was a perceptible hesitation before Milton answered. “There is no deception. By your standards, it has certainly been a long time; but there have also been changes in the perception and measurement of time. And there have been… discontinuities … in human history and development.”

  “You mean a collapse of human civilization? I worried about that, before I first went into cryosleep.”

  “There has been no collapse in the sense that you imply, with complete loss of technology. However, on three occasions human development has proceeded in other directions — what we now consider to have been false directions. During two of those periods, the idea of technology lacked meaning.”

  “You can tell me about that later. How long since I went to the cryowomb? Are you going to say, or aren’t you? Forget the ‘temporal shock’ nonsense and tell me. You say that you obey my commands. That is a command.”

  “Even without reinforcement from the composite, I am obliged to reject any command you give me that is provably contrary to your ultimate well-being. However, I will answer. Your body has been within the cryowomb for a period which, in your most familiar units of Earth orbital revolutions, equates to fourteen million years.” The Servitor paused. When Drake did not move or speak, it continued: “Fourteen million years. Which is to say, a period equal to—”

  “I know what fourteen million years is.” Drake laughed, a humorless bark of disbelief, while he tried to comprehend such a length of time. In his original innocence, he had imagined being frozen for up to a thousand years. He had thought of that as a huge interval.

  It was a huge interval, a period long enough for civilizations to flourish and fall, for cities and dynasties to rise from the earth and return to it. Rome had endured and ruled for a thousand years. Once that had been regarded as a model of human stability. But while he slept, fourteen thousand Roman Empires could have appeared, one after another. A hundred thousand Caesars, enough to fill a football stadium, could have conquered, ruled, and been brought down. Fourteen thousand Gibbons could have chronicled their rise and bloody fall.

  “Or maybe you’re right,” he said at last. “I don’t know what fourteen million years means. And I guess I was wrong. I’m not immune to temporal shock. I’m in temporal shock. Give me a minute or two, Milton.”

  “As long as you need.” The Servitor rolled backward a few feet, and the fair-haired man in the armchair continued, “We assume that you refer to subjective minutes. One advantage of a superconducting interface is speed. This meeting is taking place with subjective time rate equal to less than one thousandth real time—”

  “I need to know,” Drake interrupted. “I need to know what’s happened to the solar system — why you woke me — if there has been progress with Ana’s problem.” He had a thrilling thought. “Is it possible to interface with her brain, the way you have with mine?”

  “Unfortunately, it is not. We made contact with the residue, long ago. There are many intact brain cells, as you might imagine. But the connectivity, the whole that permits the concept of mind, has been destroyed.”

  “Let me try it for myself.” Drake found that he was trembling with eagerness. “I know her better than anyone. Put me in touch with her, let me make my own evaluation.”

  “We judge that would be most unwise.” Ariel’s face was calm but compassionate. “Unwise for your sake. Just as it is unwise to expose you, immediately, to humankind as it exists today. There must be a period of adjustment. Your strength and mental resilience are extraordinary by any standards, but we do not wish to push it too far. We feared that you might retreat to insanity immediately after being contacted. You have . not done so. But a meeting with the sad, muddied remnant of mind that sits now within Anastasia’s body would try your sanity past bearing.”

  “Has there been other progress, though? If her original brain cannot be repaired—”

  “We will come to the question of scientific progress in due course. For the moment, we judge it best for you to begin with something familiar. Your Servitor will show you around the solar system. Then it will be time for us to talk again.”

  “I don’t want a stupid tour of the solar system. Last time, that made me feel worse. I’m interested in people, not planets. I want to know what changes in the past fourteen million years might affect Ana’s return.”

  Drake leaned forward, ready to argue. He was given no chance to do so. With one final wave of his hand, Ariel vanished; in the same moment, Drake was on board a ship.

  Although Drake’s frozen body remained in the cryowomb, the illusion that he had been reanimated was quite perfect. He and Milton seemed to be traveling together in a real ship, its motion and progress constrained by the laws of dynamics and solar system geometry. He experienced real hunger and fatigue. After eighteen or twenty hours of subjective wakefulness, he would begin to yawn and feel the need for sleep.

  It was the new solar system that seemed to lack reality.

  They had begun close to the Sun, where the familiar, steady beacon offered constancy and comfort. A few million years were nothing within the lifetime of a G-class star. It had looked down on Drake’s birth, and it would probably look down unchanged on his final death, whenever that might be.

  But unlike his birth, final death would not take place on Earth. Drake had stared from the ship’s ports unmoved as they swept out past the hot cinder of Mercury and the garden world of Venus, with its blue-white atmosphere, placid seas, and sculpted continents. The transformation of the second planet might have been surprising and wonderful to those in Drake’s own time, but it had been predicted since the era of Par Leon; the transformation had been well underway during his last resurrection.

  His interest was focused on Earth long before they arrived there. The near-disastrous environmental runaway whose consequences he had seen on his last visit had lasted a few tens of thousands of years, but that was a mere blip on the long scroll of Earth’s history. Ana had assured him that the correction was made. She had been sure that a similar mistake would never be allowed again.

  So what would the home world have become, after so many millions of years of habitation and development?

  As they drew closer, Drake looked and looked again. Something was wrong, but what was it?

  The Earth-Moon doublet was growing in the ship’s displays. The proportions were right, Earth’s disk bulking more than ten times the area of its satellite; but the colors were peculiar. The smaller world was an angry red tinged with yellow smears. The larger one, instead of the familiar blue gray of Earth, gleamed a dull and mottled white that was naggingly suggestive and familiar.

  He stared hard at that pale orb. The perspective shift took place w
ithin his mind.

  “That big one’s the Moon, the markings are changed but it has just the right color! But then where’s Earth? Unless it was changed to look like the Moon, and the Moon… Milton, I know this is a simulation. Does this represent reality, or are you playing tricks?”

  The Servitor was at his side. It had spoken little since the journey began, but now the response was immediate. “It is not a simulation in the usual sense. It is a representation. By which I mean, although our whole journey is in derived reality, what you are seeing exactly matches the physical solar system, as it exists today.”

  “What happened to Earth?”

  “It is easier to say why than what. As we told you, while you were in cryosleep another direction was three times taken by humanity. In two of those, technology was ignored. In the third, it took a leap that even now we do not understand. The center of that new technology was Earth. One day, without warning, Earth collapsed to a fraction of its old size. Its surface closed. Its mass remained unchanged.”

  “It collapsed while it was still inhabited?”

  “Correct.”

  Drake gazed in horror on the shrunken red- and yellow-smeared orb. “So everyone and everything on Earth was killed?”

  “We think not. We believe that in some form everything on Earth has survived. Space within has been folded, and we believe that on the interior there was no collapse. We have no direct proof of this, since even after a million Earth years, no one has managed to penetrate the sphere that you see. It emits its own radiation, but it remains impermeable to everything from outside. Sometimes we see changes, occasionally there are what look like planet-wide lightning storms. Our best theory is that the sphere is constantly maintained by a single entity within it, a supermind combination of organic and inorganic intelligence.

  “Of perhaps greater consequence to the rest of the solar system, at the time of Earth’s collapse and closure the planet was the central repository of all solar system data banks. Their loss had a profound effect on human development — even on human sanity. Everyone was suddenly deprived of a vital group memory and a species cohesive force. The process of reconstruction was begun, from partial databases elsewhere, but it was slow, uncertain, and imperfect. After Earth’s closure, every person in the Pluto cryowombs was revivified. Their memories assisted in the re-creation of the oldest historical records.”