The Otherlings and the Crystal Amulet

by S V Hurn

  “I’m very happy to hear that,” Alex said.

  Dorathy walked up to one of the old relics and wiped the dust from what appeared to be an engraved plaque, its surface cold to the touch. She read it out loud, “John Smith, born 11/23/1959, died of colon cancer 02/04/1999 . . . this person died sixty-three years ago.”

  Dorathy looked up, her eyes sad.“Overall that isn’t that long ago, but when one looks at the incredible advances in technology that with each passing year seem to leap forward exponentially . . . if this person were to be revived, he would be so out of place, so far removed from this reality, our world would be foreign to him.”

  “Exactly, Dora,” Alex exclaimed. “This explains why some people are turned off to cryogenics while others embrace it. Some people are hopeful that they would not stay dead for too long, while others fear that when they are revived the lives of their loved ones have moved forward without them, or so much time has passed everyone they ever knew will have long been dead and gone.”

  Dorathy turned to face him. “I think, at least for myself, I would prefer to feel somewhat immortal by simply being frozen in time and sent off into space as a gesture of one last adventure into the unknown, a journey that would last forever. I have to say that is exactly what I would want for myself.” With a smile on her face to lighten the mood, she said with enthusiasm, “Where do I sign?”

  Alex said, “My first customer,” and they both laughed. He smiled, “Let’s finish the tour.”

  Dorathy brushed her hands together to get the dust off and studied John Smith’s capsule. She thought, “What kind of world will he be a part of, if technology ever were to catch up to him?”

  They entered the elevator and Dorathy’s eyes remained fixed on John Smith’s capsule as the door shut. Time, she thought, makes our daily routine and the lives we lead seem so insignificant, for time is relentless and marches forward no matter how we strive to slow it down. How incredibly small we all are when compared to time.

  Alex noted the somber expression on her face and knew what she must be thinking. “Time sometimes stretches into a long wait.” As the elevator clanked into motion, Dorathy sighed in agreement.

  They exited the elevator and Alex looked down at his watch. “How about some pizza with the staff before I take you to our prep room?”

  “Prep room?” Dorathy thought about the grizzly procedures inflicted on a newly dead person and then said, “I think we should definitely eat first.” Being an engineer, Dorathy did not have much of a stomach for medical applications. She said, “I hate needles.” Alex laughed the hearty laugh she had heard once before over the phone. As they walked back past the way they had come, Dorathy asked, “Is there a lot of maintenance to be done to keep the canisters in top operating condition?”

  Alex shook his head, “Not really. We have a few people that do regular inspections just to make sure there isn’t a major leak in any of them. We use liquid nitrogen in a vacuum to keep an accurate temperature within the canisters. The wisps of cold fog escaping from the gaskets means the pressure is normalizing.”

  They continued to walk past the door they originally entered and accessed the offices via a door toward the back of the facility. Alex held the door for Dorathy, and she moved past him a bit closer this time. She was walking in front of him and he dared a glance at her figure. He thought she was exquisite and thought to himself, I don’t want to make any mistakes with her, she is a dream come true.

  He caught up to her as she turned and said, “Hope Lori ordered enough pizza, because I’m starving.”

  “Ah, a woman with a healthy appetite, I like that, none of that picking.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “I can eat most people under the table, and I love to cook.”

  “Good,” he said, “because I love to eat as well, and I’m not a bad cook either.”

  They said, almost in unison, “You can clean up.” They both laughed.

  At the end of the hall was a large break room with a full kitchen and one large round table that appeared to double as a meeting table as well. As they entered, Dorathy noticed Lori, several men that looked to be part of the maintenance staff and a couple of guys who could be part of the medical staff. Everyone had already served themselves from the pizza boxes set in the middle of the table, but there was still plenty left. Alex offered Dorathy a chair and introduced her to his staff. After introductions had been made and everyone engaged in small talk, one of the men, whose name was Dennis, felt comfortable enough with Dorathy to broach a certain subject.

  Dennis, with a bit of gusto, said, “So Dorathy, how do you like all our human popsicles?”

  Dorathy almost snorted her soda out of her nose. “Oh, my God,” she said, “you obviously have been talking to either Jack or Hugo! I never thought when I used that phrase ever so loosely a year ago, and keep in mind it was taken completely out of context, it was going to come back and bite me in the ass, as it seems it has.”

  Everyone laughed and Dennis said, “It is, after all, a very common approach to what we do here.”

  “Well,” she went on to say in her defense, “it was never said out of disrespect.”

  Alex loved the way she interacted with everyone; she was personable and genuine. She possessed everything he ever wanted in a woman. He thought how lucky he would be if she returned his affection. He vowed to not rush it, to let things unfold. Over the years he had become so lonely and wanted so much to feel love; that one special love that only happens once in a lifetime. He prayed that she was the one.

  After lunch, as promised, they went with Stuart and Mark, the doctors on staff, to the prep room. The room could have been any surgical suite at any modern hospital. The equipment was of the highest caliber. Dorathy was impressed with both the area and the staff, who would work together to perform the procedure of freezing an individual. “Well done,” she said. “I’m overwhelmed by the care taken to ensure that your patients and their families have the best you can offer.”

  The remainder of the week went well. She learned all she could of the operational needs of the canisters so she could design a suitable means of transporting them into deep space. She and Alex worked well together; they could almost read each other’s mind and came to a point where they started to finish each other’s sentences. They laughed about it. Dorathy, being the jokester, kept Alex in stitches and so often his gut hurt from laughing. He felt he was falling in love with her and, as determined as she might be to keep her feelings under wraps, he sensed she had the same feelings for him.

  At the end of the day on Friday Alex inquired if she had plans for dinner. He wanted to take her downtown to the revolving restaurant at the top of one of the old buildings. Alex said he was ready to discuss the seven people who had been revived. Dorathy had known not to press him for that information and that he would get around to telling her at some point during the week. So, she agreed. “Dinner would be great. Sounds like a nice place, let me go back to the hotel to freshen up. Will you pick me up?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Say, seven o’clock?”

  “That’s perfect. Gives me time to unwind, maybe take a bubble bath.” He loved her smiles.

  On her way out of the building she said her goodbyes to all her new friends at Lifecor. Everyone knew she would return. Their attraction to eachother was obvious.

  Alex walked Dorathy out to the car and opened her car door for her. I’ll see you in the lobby at seven, then.”

  Dorathy smiled. “I can’t wait,” and waved as she drove away. Her heart was pounding because she wanted so badly to grab his face to give him a long passionate kiss. But she had to refrain from doing such a thing. She must maintain some professionalism, but said under her breath, “Screw professionalism! God, he’s amazing.”

  When she got back to her hotel room, she decided to raid the courtesy fridge for a couple of little bottles of red wine to lend her a little help relaxing. Dorathy was thinking about the incredible week she just had while she ran the wat
er, filling the tub with froth. As she sank down into the tub the fragrance of the steaming water soothed her nerves. She had to hand it to Lucy, this place was grand. It had great amenities and the room was spacious and luxurious. The bathroom was huge with Italian marble tiles surrounding a huge Jacuzzi tub. She poured her wine and lifted her glass to toast herself. “Thank you, Lucy, you are the best.” She sank into the water and let her mind wander. Thoughts about Alex of course, and whether they would become an item in time. She thought about taking him to her private island beach house in the South Pacific. She attempted to stop this train of thought, but she was fighting a losing battle. “God, he’s gorgeous,” she said as she sank her head under the bubbles.

  After a nice, somewhat relaxing bath, she got ready for her date, the first for quite some time. As usual, she came prepared and had packed a very simple but elegant little black dress and a pair of black high-heeled sandals. She was a bundle of nerves and could hardly contain her giddiness. It had been years since she had been out with a man, and even longer since she’d been with a man. With that thought she felt as if she might just explode from anticipation.

  Alex was perfect in every way: successful, intelligent, kind, gentle, great sense of humor . . . Oh my God, the accent! Great dresser, tall, ruggedly handsome . . . She said to herself, “I guess good things come to those who wait, and I have waited a long damn time for a man like him.

  Preparing to leave the room, she checked her watch and looked through her little black satin bag to make sure she had everything she needed: lipstick, powder, room key, phone, credit card, ID, pain reliever . . . “Damn,” she said, “where the hell did I put that bottle? Shit! I feel another headache coming on.” She searched her large case and found it, quickly popped two in her mouth and swallowed, putting the small bottle in her evening bag. She did a quick scan of the room, left a light on, and headed down to the lobby. She exited the elevator, stopping to check herself in the mirror on the opposite wall and thought not bad for an old gal.

  Dorathy was entering the lobby as Alex came through the glass doors of the main entrance. They caught each other’s eye at the same moment. He had on a pair of black slacks with stylish shoes and a nicely fitted long-sleeved, steel grey shirt, left untucked with the top buttons undone. The mere sight of him left her breathless. They had just spent the whole week in grubby clothes and coveralls and now here they were looking their best.

  Alex tried not stare at Dorathy but couldn’t help himself; she was simply stunning, and he noticed every head in the room turn as she walked by. She was of course oblivious to the attention being paid.

  Alex leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and offered his arm. “Shall we? Madame’s chariot awaits.” He felt the envy of every man in the lobby and was walking proudly with this beautiful creature on his arm. He opened the heavy glass door for her and once again offered his arm to lead her through the parking lot. Alex had made sure to park his car close to the entrance as he knew women with high heels could only walk so far on uneven surfaces.

  They approached his black sport coupe. He couldn’t look away from her. “You look absolutely gorgeous this evening and I am a very lucky man.”

  She graciously replied, “Well thank you, kind sir. You don’t look half bad yourself and, I might add, you smell scrumptious.”

  Alex laughed, and said, “Yes, I clean up pretty good.”

  Dorathy said, “I guess we both do . . . just a bit of a contrast to the way we have been looking while working on the concrete floor this past week.”

  Alex opened the passenger side door and handed her into the seat, noticing long toned legs as her dress fell open to her thigh. He shut the door and couldn’t help himself thinking how much he would love to run his hand up her leg, but he respected Dorothy more than any other woman he had met in his life. He thought, there will be time for that, hopefully, in time.” And then, optimistically, “Hopefully, sooner than later.

  They drove past Camelback Mountain and Dorathy told him about her days spent here as a kid and how much she enjoyed living there. She refrained from telling him about the struggles in her childhood. As they came into downtown Phoenix, she admired all the lights that decorated the trees and cactus, and told him how her dad used to take her to the baseball games when he was not working--but her voice trailed off as she recalled that her father was only really around during holidays and sometimes not even then.

  Alex could hear her sadness in her voice and said, “You miss him.”

  With a heavy sigh, she said, “Yes I do, every day.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. He glanced over with a sympathetic smile and said, “I know, I miss my family too. It’s hard to be an orphan, at any age.”

  For the next few moments they drove in silence, and Dorathy took in the sights that were somewhat familiar to her. So many things had changed, but for the most part it had remained the same.

  Alex said, pointing out the window, “Look at the architecture of the new addition to the Arizona Science Museum. It’s amazing how it looks as if it’s going to fall over in a stiff breeze.”

  Pulling into their destination, Alex drove up to valet parking. While he was getting his ticket from the attendant, Dorathy was stepping out of the car with the help of another attendant. The young man was eager to be of assistance, offering his hand. Alex took over immediately and offered his arm. Stepping through the doors he commented on how he loved the wine selection here and hoped she would do the honors of selecting a bottle, as he knew she was quite familiar with good California wines.

  They reached the top floor and the elevator doors slid open directly into the restaurant. The hostesses checked their reservation and, as requested, they were seated at a small, private table by the window. The restaurant was quiet tonight as all the tourists had left for cooler climates for the summer. Alex, always the gentleman, pulled the chair out for Dorathy as she sat.

  It was a lovely evening, the lights of the city sprawling out to the horizon. During dinner Alex talked about his childhood growing up near Sydney, Australia. His parents owned a boat and they would go out almost every New Year’s Eve to watch the fireworks over Sydney Harbor. He talked about his little sister always trying to push him overboard and how when she succeeded one night his father had to jump in after him. They laughed and cried as they shared their life stories. Such fond memories and such tragedies in both their lives. Alex’s sister died at a young age, killed by a drunk driver, his mother died of cancer and his father had passed away only two years ago of old age. Alex had never been married. He said, “I guess I’m just waiting for the right woman to come along, but I do regret never having kids. All the same though, sometimes I just feel I’m very happy I didn’t.”

  Dorathy told him all about Athena and her ex-husband and how it had been a mistake to have married him. “But,” she said, “I had this notion that Athena needed a full-time father around. I suppose that came from mine not being around much while I was growing up. Well, you can’t change the past and you certainly can’t allow it to dictate your future.”

  During a lull in their conversation, Alex took Dorathy’s hand across the table, looked into her beautiful dark eyes and asked, “Do you believe in God?”

  Dorathy blinked and pondered the question for a moment. She wasn’t turned off by the subject in the least but was curious where this topic might lead. She hesitated for a moment, so she might choose her words accurately. She said in a gentle voice, “I believe in an afterlife. I believe in a Creator of all things. Do I believe in the Pearly Gates with angels and an old white bearded man—not so much. I think,” she went on to say, “when you look out into the universe and down upon our Earth from space you see clearly the proof of a higher power. My wish is that everyone would get the opportunity to witness and sit in awe at the beauty and the power of such a sight.”

  Alex smiled and said, “So what if I said I had my own proof?”

  Dorathy was intrigued. “I would say I would be very open to you sharing it w
ith me.”

  Alex straightened in his seat. He looked around the room and said, “I know you have been waiting to hear about the seven people we have been able to revive.”

  “Yes,” Dorathy said, “I figured this was where the conversation was going. Please continue.”

  He took a quick breath and exhaled. “Okay, where do I start? The first person, a man of sixty-two died of heart disease and he lay frozen for seventeen years. As you know, with the advancements in bioprinting, a new heart could be formed. After the long process of defrosting, and I say that instead of the word we more commonly use, ‘reviving,’ we kept him on life support while we used his stem cells to form a new heart. He now suffers from some of the obvious side effects like memory loss, depression, lack of certain motor skills, and so forth--all of which will become better over time. But the thing that seems to have the greatest impact on him is the ability to recall his time away, as if he had spent his time in another place or dimension. It’s amazing really; to remember every detail of his time spent on the other side. It seems that this alternate reality is just as real as this world, and when I say world, I mean as if the other side was an actual place, not a state of being.”

  Dorathy was truly astonished by the information Alex had just shared and was left almost speechless. It took a while to sink in and she finally asked, “What about the other six people, have they also suffered the same effects? If so, is there a part of the brain that has suffered damage? But I’m sure every type of test and scan must have been made to ensure the patient’s life was never in jeopardy.”

  Alex replied, “Yes of course, absolutely. Every one of the patients had undergone a thorough exam, and all seven suffered the same aftereffects . . . I don’t want to use the word delusion, but it’s amazing that every one of them report the exact same thing. And no one has been able to explain it away. It is only reasonable that we assume that what they are reporting is factual.”