moment she thought that perhaps the software had failed her. But then she glanced at her own readings. Normal. Which is to say, exactly as would be expected for an individual feeling concern. No, it wasn’t the software; it must be the man himself, and according to the holodisplay the patient’s state was categorized as “calm and alert.” But how? In all her years of study, encompassing hundreds of patients, she’d never seen anyone control an emotional response with such brutal efficiency. Who is this guy?
Justin was now keenly aware of his surroundings. He started with the bed. Whatever it is I’m resting on is somehow aware of my physiological condition and is able to respond. Fascinating. He shifted his body only to feel the bed conform to his movement and help him into the most comfortable position. OK, he thought, the technology clearly kicks ass . Of course it kicks ass, you idiot, he realized a moment later, you’re alive. And even that important fact spoke volumes about the society he’d awakened to. But he’d hopefully have time for that. Gather physical facts now, he chided himself, evaluate later .
The light was the most obvious change he was aware of. It came from no discernible source yet was everywhere. The room was simply lit. The more he tried to find a light source, the more his brain hurt, so he dropped it. They have sourceless light—move on. He smelled coffee but saw no coffeepot. If he were relying on his smell alone he would have bet his fortune that a percolator was in the room. They have scent simulators and are smart enough… no—sensitive enough—to use them in this situation. This was a good start. Not only had he been reanimated, but it was now apparent that the people who had done the re-animation had gone to great effort to make him comfortable. So, he reasoned, not necessarily an inhospitable society. Good. Now he turned to the woman. She was, while not the most beautiful woman in the world, still quite attractive.
Her pose, crossed legs and casual indifference, suggested comfort. But that was it, wasn’t it? A pose… for his benefit alone. Because this woman clearly was not comfortable. Justin had become an expert on reading body language, and hers was tense.
She’s waiting for me. Fine. Patience. She can wait.
Now he noticed the book in her hands. He tried to make out the title. He focused his eyes. The Tempest, by William Shakespeare. He smiled. How appropriate, and, of course, logical. Not knowing exactly how old I am, she went with a classic. He chuckled to himself. She has access to technology that can raise the dead, provide completely sourceless light, and physiologically adaptive furniture, and is sitting here holding in her hands what is most likely a relic of my millennium. “A” for effort.
And the more he thought about it, the more reassured he became. He clearly had some value to someone just by being alive. And to Justin it mattered not whether it was an intrinsic value that this society placed on human life, or perhaps the “freak show value” of his circumstance. He was alive, and someone very much wanted him to remain so. Either way it gave him some standing. Having assessed as much as he could within his immediate vicinity, he realized it was time to interact with the woman.
Neela was keeping tabs on her patient. He was in some sort of evaluation mode, and it was pretty obvious from where his eyes and muscles were moving that he was analyzing his environment. What she didn’t understand was why this seemed to be causing him irritation. The light was specifically set to not cause any…
Idiot, Neela chastised herself. They didn’t have sourceless light three hundred years ago. I should have set up a light emitter .
But no sooner had the self-flagellation begun than she felt his eyes bearing directly down on her. Instinctively she forced her feelings aside in an attempt to appear relaxed. It was unbearable. She yearned for the release of
Justin was now keenly aware of his surroundings. He started with the bed. Whatever it is I’m resting on is somehow aware of my physiological condition and is able to respond. Fascinating. He shifted his body only to feel the bed conform to his movement and help him into the most comfortable position. OK, he thought, the technology clearly kicks ass . Of course it kicks ass, you idiot, he realized a moment later, you’re alive. And even that important fact spoke volumes about the society he’d awakened to. But he’d hopefully have time for that. Gather physical facts now, he chided himself, evaluate later .
The light was the most obvious change he was aware of. It came from no discernible source yet was everywhere. The room was simply lit. The more he tried to find a light source, the more his brain hurt, so he dropped it. They have sourceless light—move on. He smelled coffee but saw no coffeepot. If he were relying on his smell alone he would have bet his fortune that a percolator was in the room. They have scent simulators and are smart enough… no—sensitive enough—to use them in this situation. This was a good start. Not only had he been reanimated, but it was now apparent that the people who had done the re-animation had gone to great effort to make him comfortable. So, he reasoned, not necessarily an inhospitable society. Good. Now he turned to the woman. She was, while not the most beautiful woman in the world, still quite attractive.
Her pose, crossed legs and casual indifference, suggested comfort. But that was it, wasn’t it? A pose… for his benefit alone. Because this woman clearly was not comfortable. Justin had become an expert on reading body language, and hers was tense.
She’s waiting for me. Fine. Patience. She can wait.
Now he noticed the book in her hands. He tried to make out the title. He focused his eyes. The Tempest, by William Shakespeare. He smiled. How appropriate, and, of course, logical. Not knowing exactly how old I am, she went with a classic. He chuckled to himself. She has access to technology that can raise the dead, provide completely sourceless light, and physiologically adaptive furniture, and is sitting here holding in her hands what is most likely a relic of my millennium. “A” for effort.
And the more he thought about it, the more reassured he became. He clearly had some value to someone just by being alive. And to Justin it mattered not whether it was an intrinsic value that this society placed on human life, or perhaps the “freak show value” of his circumstance. He was alive, and someone very much wanted him to remain so. Either way it gave him some standing. Having assessed as much as he could within his immediate vicinity, he realized it was time to interact with the woman.
Neela was keeping tabs on her patient. He was in some sort of evaluation mode, and it was pretty obvious from where his eyes and muscles were moving that he was analyzing his environment. What she didn’t understand was why this seemed to be causing him irritation. The light was specifically set to not cause any…
Idiot, Neela chastised herself. They didn’t have sourceless light three hundred years ago. I should have set up a light emitter .
But no sooner had the self-flagellation begun than she felt his eyes bearing directly down on her. Instinctively she forced her feelings aside in an attempt to appear relaxed. It was unbearable. She yearned for the release of
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