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Boston, Massachusetts

“Mr. Ethan?” a doctor said. “You look like you’re awake. Please nod if you can hear me.” Ed nodded, which hurt his whole body.
“Good,” said the doctor. “The surgery went great. You may still feel the residual effects of the narcotics, but you will be able to walk out of here today.”
“What surgery?” said Ed, concerned that he hadn’t yet remembered.
“You had a tumor in your brain stem,” said the doctor.
“I don’t remember that,” said Ed, bewildered.
“Most likely because you were diagnosed one-hundred and thirty-nine years ago,” said the doctor. Besides saving lives, telling people how long they had been under was his favorite part of the job. He enjoyed delighting patients with how far society had evolved since they had been asleep. His clients were terminally ill persons who had been cryogenically frozen until medicine had advanced enough to cure their diseases. In addition to his general medicine training, he had to be trained in psychology for a year before he was allowed to counsel awakening patients. The doctor was smiling, still waiting for Ed to react.
“Did I miss anything?” said Ed.

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