Harry Maynard stared wide-eyed at the images of the world he was about to reenter. He gleefully decided that his bet on the future would pay off big time.

 

The AV briefing so entranced the man that he didn’t notice the attractive woman entering the medical room.

 

“You appear pleased with your new life, sir! Good morning; my name is Natalie DiSilva, your case supervisor.”

 

“Hi, Nat,” said Harry, looking her up and down. “Yeah, I can’t believe how much things have changed in the past eighteen years.”

 

“That period was a little before my time, but I believe the world was on the cusp of major changes when the old Cryo Corporation put you into cryosleep.”

 

“You’re not kidding. But I always prided myself on my great timing,” he said suggestively, eying Natalie’s lithe figure.

 

She ignored the remark. Male clients, especially middle-aged ones, often came out of cryosleep with egos inflated by the prospect of a new life.

 

“I can’t wait to get out of there,” said Harry on cue. “Maybe you can show me the ropes?”

 

Natalie smiled calmly and consulted her hand monitor. “We have a few formalities to complete. Then you will be transferred to the treatment unit.”

 

“Treatment unit? But I don’t need any treatment. The medics said I’m in good shape,” he said.

 

“Physically, that is true. However, mentally…”

 

“Hold on a minute, lady! There’s been a mistake. I didn’t pay Cryo Corp a ton of money to put me on ice because I’m terminally ill. Not me. I just wanted to see the future.”

 

“We are aware of that,” said Natalie without emotion, tapping the hand tablet.

 

“Look, if you’re giving me a clean bill of health, I’m outta here,” he said.

 

Harry tried to climb off the cot but was held back by an invisible force field. “What the hell is going on!”

 

“That is what I am here to explain, Mr. Margietti.”

 

“Margietti? Who’s that?”

 

Natalie sighed. “Come now, we both know that Harry Maynard is not your real name.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Your real name is Felix Margietti.”

 

“The hell it is!”

 

Natalie smiled as if she was addressing a problematic child. “Allow me to elaborate,” she said.

 

Since being perfected for space travel, cryogenic sleep had become a popular option for people who could afford it, she explained. “As you say, some people with a terminal disease want to wait for a medical cure to be discovered. But there are many other reasons. For example, last week, we revived an affluent client who wanted to meet her great-grandchildren.”

 

Harry shifted uneasily on the cot.

 

“You, on the other hand, chose cryosleep to escape the law.”

 

“That’s a lie!” snapped Harry. “I’ll sue your asses.”

 

“You are by no means alone, Mr. Margietti,” said Natalie unabashed. “Decades ago, it was easier to take on a fake identity and disappear in a cryogenic center. Especially for a wealthy criminal like a mob boss.”

 

“That’s bullshit. Why would a well-connected guy go to all that trouble? Escaping the feds and going off the map for a few years would be a cinch.”

 

Natalie consulted her monitor again. “You were facing an eighteen-year sentence for racketeering, I believe. What better way to avoid serving time in prison? You only age a fraction, outlive your pursuers, and wake up with a new lease on life. You’re reborn, so to speak.”

 

“You should write novels because that’s what your story is, lady: fiction.”

 

“Our detection systems are much more sophisticated than they were eighteen years ago, Mr. Margietti. Not even doctored DNA can fool us today. You might be surprised at how many of your kind we revive.”

 

“What do you mean – my kind?”

 

Natalie chose not to answer the question, preferring to let her client arrive at his own conclusion. Harry’s mind raced.

 

“I’ll double your fee if you discharge me now.”

 

“I don’t think so, sir.”

 

“Triple? Name your price.”

 

“We are obliged to start treatment immediately.”

 

“What treatment?

 

She explained that repeat offenders – especially individuals convicted of violent crimes – are no longer sent to prison.

 

“You will undergo a cerebral realignment to eradicate your criminal tendencies.”

 

Harry paled. “What’s that? A fancy term for a lobotomy?”

 

“Of course not! That so-called treatment is barbaric. Our techniques are infinitely more refined and precise.”

 

“What’ll happen to me?”

 

“You will probably undergo a minor personality change. But please be assured; the treatment will transform you into a productive member of society.”

 

“No way! I won’t let you do it!” he shouted.

 

Natalie shrugged. “The authorization has been granted, sir. Everything is ready. Welcome to the future, Mr. Margietti.”