Sleeping Jenny

Mom, Dad, and Timmy visited my bedside before the doctors put me to sleep. Although none of us knew how long I’d be frozen, their red-rimmed eyes and long faces looked like they were saying good-bye for forever.

Timmy ran up to my bed and hugged my head with his little arms. “Bye, Jenny. I’m going to miss you.”

“Bye, Timmy. I’ll miss you, too, little guy.” Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back because I didn’t want to upset him. “Make sure you brush your teeth like Mom says, and no more putting your action figures in the radiator, okay?”

With his head of curly blond hair and ruby-red cheeks, he looked like one of those tots on the Welch’s grape juice commercials. I wanted to remember him like this—perfect, even though he bent my hairclips and wiped mouthfuls of peanut butter on my bath towel.

“Remember to feed my fish, and make sure Thunderbolt gets groomed regularly. Grit gets stuck underneath his shoes.”

“Of course, dear.” She pulled away and shrugged. “Who knows, they might wake you up next year.”

“Hopefully I won’t miss too much.” Big events passed by in flashes of thought—the next Disney cruise, Mom’s run for mayor in two years, Timmy’s first day of school, Dad’s retirement party. I didn’t want to miss any of it. I couldn’t think about timelines anymore, or I’d make myself sick.

Dad squeezed my hand and kissed my cheek. “I’ve spoken with the world’s top doctors, and they are on the verge of a cure. I know this will work, honey. You have to believe me.”

“Yes, Dad.” I believed him. Modern science didn’t disappoint, especially when funded by significant dollar signs. It was just that I didn’t know when. What if my friends were all grown up and my hair was out of style? I imagined Angela as a middle-aged woman shopping with a teenage me in the mall, and it didn’t seem right. She’d probably have a life of her own, kids of her own. Why would she want to hang out with me anymore?

Or maybe I’d wake up and Timmy would be my age. We could be best buds and finish school together, double date for the prom. That’d be awesome. No more fights about letting him watch SpongeBob.

My pulse quickened. My life was one of those hourglasses, and the last few grains had run out. I’d already said goodbye to Angela because the policy said family only in the cryo lab, but now I thought of a thousand more things I wanted to tell her. “Can I talk to Angela one more time?”

Dr. Resin’s mouth set in a firm line. “We must proceed immediately while the cryo chamber settings are optimal.”

I reached out to grab Timmy’s hand. Mom held him back, crying silent tears, while Dad saluted me with his stoic face and dark eyes. “Remember we love you, and when you wake up, you’ll be cured. You’ll be free.”

My heart beat a thousand times a minute as Resin pushed me down the corridor to a new wing labeled Cryonics Institute of New England. I wanted to yell for someone to help me, but I knew none of the nurses would answer my pleas. They scurried by, like I was an afterthought in their world. And I was.

The cryosleep chamber looked like a giant spaceship from Star Trek. Tubes ran around the vacuum chamber, surrounding the hull like dreadlocks, all thick and twisted. A monitor beeped on top with a temperature gauge that read eighteen degrees Celsius. It was hard to imagine the inside would drop to negative one hundred and twenty-eight. Beneath the monitor, a small window the size of a cereal box revealed wires spewing everywhere and a faint blue light. At least I didn’t have to sleep in the dark.

A hatch lifted. I expected misty air to pour out, but nothing happened. The nurses surrounded me and rubbed alcohol on my arms and legs.

I tried not to think about the liquid nitrogen that would flood the capsule, stopping any physical decay. I imagined floating inside it and remembered reading how bodies sink to the bottom because of their density. My throat felt fuzzy, and I thought I’d throw up. I hadn’t been allowed to eat anything the last twenty-four hours, so there was nothing left anyway.

A nurse attached tubes to my arms and legs with needles that pricked my skin. I stared at her questioningly, and she patted my head. “These are for the cryo-protectants, my dear.”

I looked at her like she was crazy. Count down from ten? That was not how I wanted to spend my last few moments awake. The anesthesiologist put a mask over my face.

10 Mom looked so sad.

9 Will Timmy remember me?

8 Angela, where the hell are you?

7 My feet are getting cold.

6 The lights are so bright.