Charles Sheffield - Tomorrow and Tomorrow

“Drake, I don’t know and I don’t want to know. I want to leave, right now.”

“You can’t leave. What will I do without you?”

“You will become what you were before I appeared to mess up your life: strong, dedicated, brave.” She came toward him, hesitated, and then at last kissed him quickly on the lips as the airlock cycled open. “There’s more to it than that, Drake. I thought you guessed, but apparently you didn’t. I started to tell you once, but you cut me off as though you didn’t want to discuss it.”

Drake turned. Melissa Bierly was standing in the open doorway. The brilliant sapphire eyes smiled a welcome. There was a radiance and a calmness in her face that Drake had never seen before. Then Ana was rushing forward, and the two women embraced fiercely.

“Hello, Drake Merlin.” Melissa spoke softly, almost shyly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You?… and Ana…”

“We are companions. Life mates. We go as a team to Rigel Calorans.” Melissa, still holding Ana by the hand, came toward him. “We owe you a lot.”

“Everything,” Ana added. “You are the reason that Melissa and I met. You were not here, Drake, but you brought us together. I sought her out because she had known you.”

She turned to Melissa. Drake saw again that look in -Ana’s eyes, the totally loving look. He had seen it once before — when they were speaking of Melissa.

“But we were lovers ,” he whispered. And, when Ana merely nodded, “How could you do that with me, if you are bonded to her?”

Both woman stared at him in confusion. “For your comfort,” Ana said slowly. “To cheer you, when you were frightened and upset. How could I have done anything else? Melissa would have done no less.”

Melissa nodded. She placed her arms around Ana, resting her head on her shoulder. “I would, Drake, if you needed me. But Ana did. She soothes pain almost before it is there. That is one reason why I love her.”

Drake stepped backward and slumped into the ship’s control chair. “And Ana loves you, and not me. I am going to lose her.”

“Yes,” said Ana. “You will lose me. But don’t get it wrong. I told you, what you will lose is Ana, but it is not your Ana.”

“I will be without you, again. What can I do? How will I live?”

Both women came forward and stooped to kiss him on both cheeks.

“Don’t give up,” Melissa said softly. “Keep your faith, Drake, and go on. We agree with you; somewhere, sometime, you will find Anastasia. Not my Ana. Your Ana.”

Ana and Melissa stepped away. Hand in hand, they moved toward the airlock. Drake rose halfway out of his seat, as though he intended to follow them. Then he slumped back. The door of the airlock slid shut.

He was still sitting, staring blindly at the displays of the rugged surface of Charon, when the door opened again. The little Servitor, Milton, eased quietly into the room. It rolled forward to stand at Drake’s side. As though sensing the human’s mood, it did not say a word.

Milton had been on Charon when Melissa Bierly arrived, and it had listened in on the whole conversation. It knew what would happen next.

“These our actors,

As I foretold you, were all spirits and

Are melted into air, into thin air.”

There was the same pleasant room, the same outlook onto a broad bay and windswept ocean: the Bay of Naples, and farther off the timeless waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea. But this time the sea was slate gray, and to the north, ominous rain clouds stood above the ancient city; in place of the raven-haired gypsy woman, a longhaired person with handsome androgynous features was sitting in the easy chair opposite.

Drake turned his head back and forth. His neck was slightly stiff, as though he had been sitting for too long in the same position. The ludicrous nature of that thought hit him, as he said, “I’d rather you didn’t bother with all this, you know. I much prefer the real thing.”

“I think not.” It was a man, judging from the voice. The English he spoke was perfect, accent-free. “There have been… changes.”

“I expect changes. I need changes. Past eras could do nothing to help Ana. Let’s dispense with the simulations.”

“That is, I am afraid, impossible.”

“My body—”

“Is preserved. Your cryocorpse, together with Ana’s original body, is still in the cryowomb. That womb is no longer held on Pluto, for reasons that will become obvious to you later. However, your body is unchanged. It could be revivified, although as you see we no longer find it necessary to reanimate you in order to converse. We are maintaining a direct superconducting link with your brain.”

“Who are you?”

“That also calls for explanation.” The man smiled, an easy and friendly grin that seemed impossible to simulate. “Let us say, I am ‘such stuff as dreams are made on.’ As you can see, after the misunderstanding of your last resurrection we have made an effort to be familiar with the writings of your times. Call me Ariel, if you must have a name familiar to you from that era. With your permission, I will now bring someone else to this meeting.”

“Melissa, and Ana’s clone…”

Drake had asked, as strongly as a man with no real power could ask, that he remain frozen until something could be done to restore to him the original Ana; but his last awakening had taught him that others had their own overriding needs.

Ariel shook his blond tresses. “Not Melissa Bierly, nor the clone of Anastasia.”

“Are they alive?”

“I would say yes; but not in any form that would be recognizable to you. Patience, Drake Merlin. Much has happened, and much needs to be said and done. First, however …”

The man did not move, but at his side a familiar sphere topped by a metal whisk broom blinked into existence.

“With profound apologies.” The Servitor nodded its eyeless head toward Drake. “Your instructions to me upon freezing were quite explicit: only when new information was available concerning Ana’s condition were you to be resurrected. However, upon reflection I judged it necessary to interface with you before taking certain other required actions. I recognize that an argument could be made that you have not in fact been reanimated, and therefore that your instructions have not been disobeyed. However, I reject that as a form of special pleading on my own behalf.”

“You are Milton? You don’t sound at all as you used to.”

“I am Milton, but in composition more than Milton. I appear in this form only for your convenience. Although much time has passed, I remain your Servitor and obey your commands.”

“How much time?” Drake sat up straight, aware that his real body deep in cryosleep could not move a micrometer. What miracle of science gave him total control of this other body, in derived reality? What magic permitted his supercooled brain to think? “Don’t offer me the same runaround as I had last time. How long has it been since I returned to the cryowomb?”

There was a perceptible hesitation before Milton answered. “There is no deception. By your standards, it has certainly been a long time; but there have also been changes in the perception and measurement of time. And there have been… discontinuities … in human history and development.”

“You mean a collapse of human civilization? I worried about that, before I first went into cryosleep.”

“There has been no collapse in the sense that you imply, with complete loss of technology. However, on three occasions human development has proceeded in other directions — what we now consider to have been false directions. During two of those periods, the idea of technology lacked meaning.”