What Endures Through Time

A bolt of lightning and a crack of thunder; the slow, deep rumble of an earthquake, and the hissing, roaring wind of a hurricane. All of the fury of  Mother Nature in one terrifying, absolute moment.

The world slowly calms, and your senses return to you, as if you had just awoken from the longest, yet restless, nap you could possibly fathom.

You are in a sterile-white room, half-laying against a cold, steel surface. A voice speaks to you, and as your mind deciphers the sounds you come to the realization that the voice has been speaking for a while; much as if being awoken from sleep by a lover’s hushed tones.

“I’m so glad you woke up. So far, you’re the only one.”

The voice is gentle, yet unfamiliar; almost entrancingly even-keel, yet enchantingly melodic. You rack your brain, grasping for the last concrete memory you have; in horror, you begin to realize you cannot recall any details in particular regarding your life. Panic begins to set in as your own names seems to have slipped away.

“You must be very confused about all of this, so allow me to fill you in a bit. This is a cryogenic facility where suicide victim’s bodies were preserved, restored, and reset.

This is Re-Inkarnate; where the stroke of a pen is a life, and the turn of a page a brand-new story. Everyone in this facility has had their memories wiped; however, each person’s story has been recorded in our archives. It was out founder’s hope that with a fresh chance, the unfortunate souls of the past can live a brighter future. The stories are memorialized to reflect on the good those people brought to the world, to mourn the loss of that good, and to hopefully help even a single soul reconcile and make their peace before they take away their own choice in the matter.”

Though your memories are gone, your personality seems to remain. In this particular moment, however, you are at a loss for words. You have no idea how long it has been, but the figure speaking to you is now obviously not human. Their voice and demeanor are too consistent, and as you look certain features seem less vibrant and detailed than they should be. You shudder, bewildered at the moment and the circumstance you find yourself in.

Finally taking a closer look around, you realize you were placed in some kind of container; hoses, tubes, cords, lights, panels -- all of their purposes unclear.

“If you would like, we have a randomly selected life story for you to read, if you so wish.”

Without even thinking, you nod your head; the innate, human curiosity everyone shares is not one of the things you lost to time and technology.

The figure hands you a slab of glass and departs, having never introduced themselves and without announcing whether or not they would return.

As you turn your eyes to the strange, thin, crystalline brick, the surface softly lights up. There is no picture, name, or date among the text that appears; as if every but of who this person had actually been in life was scrubbed and scraped away, leaving only the raw experiences remaining.

“Subject 1951 had a spouse, three children, and a dog. They were known to love animals, and were often described as kind-hearted, funny, witty, and a great improviser. They had a thriving career, were well-liked, and donated much of their spare time and resources to help those less fortunate. 

Earlier in life, their peers did not believe they would become successful, yet their inevitable success would be the envy of those same peers later on. Subject’s contributions to their field were both presently invaluable, and timelessly honored; it could be said their profession would not be the same without them.”

As you read the story, you note that this person seems fine -- both as a person, but also in circumstance.

“After their death, many people commented, gave tribute, and made efforts to memorialize them; from family and friends, to influential elites, and even the most powerful man in the world.”

Your impression so far is that this person seemed to live a fulfilling and enriched life; hard to fathom how or why someone in such a position would choose to end it prematurely. Surely, there was a mistake of some sort, whether this was not a suicide, or the details of their life embellished, or perhaps even an accident. There is a section of their autopsy provided which only confounds you further; no drugs or alcohol were in their system at the time, only their routine prescriptions and at the expected doses. All of this, and of unaltered mind?

You shake your head and give a resigned sigh; everyone makes decisions for themselves, and sometimes you just can’t understand why people make the decision they do.

The guide passes by you, though this time is speaks in passing and not directly to you.

“You are free to leave the facility whenever you want, since you’ve read the first story presented. You may also return at any time.”

You find it highly unlikely that you’ll be returning to such an off-putting place. You do wonder if anyone else will wake up from there and feel as lost as you did, not even given pieces of your life to pick back up.

As you turn to leave, you see the company motto engraved on the wall; next to it, there are dozens of plaques with similar quotes. The one the catches your gaze reads

“A human life is just a heartbeat in heaven.”

As you begin to leave the facility and it’s inconsolable archive, the loudspeaker begins to play the same audio clip it has been the entire time you were inside; pervasive, yet subtle, it never caught your attention. As the doors close behind you, you’re just barely able to make out the first four words, which leave your mind as quickly as they had entered.

“O Captain! My Captain!”

No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world.

-Robin Williams