The Ups and Downs of Being Dead Read Free

edge of the roof, and looked out over Atlanta, the
classic query drumming in his head. ‘Why me?’
    When Amanda heard he was dying, she rushed home from her
shopping trip in New York. Robert was in his office, on the phone, when she
burst in, her cheeks flushed, her eyes aglow. If he had to describe her
expression in one word, it would have been exuberant .
    Almost overnight, she transformed into a loving, sacrificing
wife who put everything on hold for him. She drove him to his chemo
appointments. She waited patiently outside the bathroom while he puked his guts
out, then helped him back to bed, tucking brand-new sheets under his chin.
Death sheets, he’d called them. He was certain she’d agonized over just the
right shade and design to go with cancer.
    She volunteered for the American Cancer Society,
masquerading as a pillar of strength in front of other spouses of dying
partners. She even participated in one of those walks – Amanda, who probably
hadn’t worn a pair of sneakers since she was ten. And she never went anywhere without
that goofy pink ribbon pinned to her clothing.
    Robert was sure the only reason she got so involved with the
cancer organization was to get first-hand information on how soon he could be
expected to croak. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on his millions.
    Wouldn’t she be surprised?

 
    * * *

 
    “Running clear,” someone said through his surgical mask.
    The blood washout was complete. Now came the tricky part.
The surgical team would pump a preservative through Robert’s heart and into his
body, so that every organ, every blood vessel, and most importantly, his brain
would be protected.
    Water was the enemy. Alex had compared freezing liquid in
blood vessels to the hoses in old style automobile radiators. Before
anti-freeze, water was used in radiators to cool engines. But water molecules
are pushy little buggers. As the temperature drops, water molecules like to
congregate, squeezing other molecules aside. And as water turns to ice, it
expands. In a car, this expansion cracked radiators, and ripped rubber hoses
apart. In the body, freezing water created the same kind of havoc in blood
vessels and in the tissue of the brain.
    Alex scoffed at a critic of cryonics who used the analogy of
frozen strawberries that turned to mush when thawed.
    “That is certainly true, because of all the water in the
fruit,” Alex had told Robert. “But we are replacing most of the water with our
cryoprotectant. Your brain will not be mush when it is reanimated.”

 
    * * *

 
    “Don’t be nervous, Robert. It’s going very well.”
    Jumping back from the surgical table, Robert glanced quickly
around the room. “What?”
    The old lady he’d seen in the lobby stood a few feet away.
She raised her palm again for a wave. She looked even older up close. Her face
was a mass of wrinkles, as though someone had wadded up her skin and then tried
unsuccessfully to smooth it back over her skull. A slight woman, she stood
maybe five feet, with bird bones that poked out at her elbows and shoulders.
She reminded Robert of that little old lady who stepped up to the counter and
asked, “Where’s the beef?”
    “Your procedure,” she said. “Everything’s happening just
like it should.”
    His thoughts whirled. “You can see me?”
    “Yes,” she nodded.
    The gray-haired gentlemen from the lobby slipped up beside
the woman. He nodded, too. The wear and tear of age showed in his sagging
jowls. Liver spots dotted his face and arms.
    “How do you know my name?” Robert asked.
    Stepping forward, the man extended a hand, like he wanted to
shake.
    “Sam Parker. This is Maggie Nelson. We’re here to help you
with your transition.”
    Stunned, Robert mumbled, “My transition?”
    “From the living to the dead,” Maggie said.
    “But I’m not dead!” Robert protested. “I’m being
cryonically-preserved—”
    Sam and Maggie both chuckled.
    “That’s right,” Maggie assured him. “And a