"So.. You'll cut my head off." I raised an eyebrow at the salescritter.
I was baiting him. I knew it, he knew it, I knew he knew it. He grinned at me, happy to go along with the routine as long as me and my wallet continued to pay attention.
"Mr. Johansson—"
"It's Bob. Please. You're not talking to my father."
The CryoEterna sales rep—the nametag identified him as Kevin—nodded and gestured toward the big placard, which displayed the cryonics process in ghoulish detail. I took a moment to note his Armani suit and hundred-dollar haircut. It appeared there was money in Cryonics.
"Bob, there's no point in freezing the entire body. Remember, the idea is to wait for advancements in medicine to be able to cure whatever killed you. By the time they can resuscitate your corpse, they’ll likely be able to grow you a whole new body. That would be easier, in fact, than trying to patch up the old one.”
That’s just insane enough to be true. “All right, Kevin, I’m sold.” I looked down at the papers he’d set out in front of me. “Ten thousand deposit, annual payments, insurance . . .” Kevin stood patiently, letting me scan the information without interruption. I might be drunk with my newfound wealth, but almost a decade as an engineer and a business owner wouldn’t let me do anything without checking all the documentation.
Finally, I was satisfied. I signed the paperwork, wrote a cheque, and shook hands with Kevin.
“You are now a client of CryoEterna Inc.” he said, handing me a card. “Keep this in your wallet at all times. In case of death, we will be contacted. Once death has been pronounced, we will—”
“—behead me.”
“Yup. And freeze your head, pending medical advances sufficient to bring you back. The guidelines for setting up a Trust are in your information package.” Kevin handed me a thick, bright blue folder with a barely visible cloud pattern, and the corporate logo emblazoned on the front. “We’ll have the formal documents printed up and mailed to your home address. And welcome to CryoEterna.” With that, he stuck out his hand and we shook again.
I did a little skip-step as I left the CryoEterna office. The Trust had already been set up, but I didn’t want Kevin to know I had decided to sign up before I even walked into the office. No point in making his job too easy. I couldn’t decide if this was a canny investment in my future or a mind-blowingly stupid waste of money. Well, what the hell. The sum that Terasoft was paying me for my software company ensured financial stability for the rest of my life—and now, beyond.
Not to mention a significant upgrade in my lifestyle. I’d been attending The Vortex Science Fiction convention every year since they first started up in Las Vegas, but this year I wasn’t part of the riff-raff. As I walked the two blocks from the CryoEterna offices to the convention, I pulled the VIP pass out of my pocket and put the lanyard around my neck. This pass gave me many extras over the standard item—access to hospitality suites, ability to bypass line-ups for autographings, and reserved spaces for panels, among other things. I’d also bought a pass for Jenny—
And, there it was. I’d invoked She Who Must Not Be Named. I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, earning glares from tailgaters and a muttered curse from a Jedi Knight wannabe. I began deep-breathing to still the panic attack. This time, it took only moments to get myself under control. Nothing like practice, I guess. I was still having several panic attacks per day, but that was way down from just after the breakup. It was like having a bad tooth—you keep poking at it with your tongue, even knowing that it’s going to hurt each time.