Back In The Saddle Again
by Dan L.
Hollifield
A Tom Darby Story
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you..."—
Tom Darby.
Pain, thought the old man. Darby, you
really screwed up this time. Must be in the local hospital. Got burned
pretty bad. Lungs feel like they're still on fire. I saved the little
girl, though! I SAVED THE LITTLE GIRL!
Through dried, tear-less eyes, the old man stared at the ceiling of the
hospital room.
Nothing hurts worse than a burn, he thought. He
moaned slightly, unable to draw in enough breath for a louder sound. Whatever
painkillers they've got me on, ain't working any too well. Had a good
long run this time, though. Guess I'm gonna die. Oh well, won't be the
first time. Wonder if the fire damaged that microchip in my head? Well,
if it did, I won't wake up again. I had a good run. Made a difference.
Married a couple of good women. Raised some kids, and grandkids.
Getting dark. I can't see none too well. What did the Old Guy tell me?
"This is the end, but the moment has been prepared for..."
In agony, Tom Darby drew his last breath—for the second time...
Moments passed. Or were they centuries? A light irritated his eyes as
he slowly awoke, against all odds. The smell of a hospital room
permeated his nose as he drew his first waking breath—for the third time...
Slowly, carefully, he tried a small movement with his new body. There
was no pain. His eyes flickered open. Rapidly glancing around at the
room, he saw medical equipment that Earth had never seen, a small
robot, the size and shape of a basketball painted white hovered in the
air next to his bed. It hummed slightly as it floated there.
"You gave us a bit of a fright, young man. For a few moments, I wasn't
sure there was a good enough copy of you to be able to bring back."
Tom looked to the right of his bed. A gray-haired man dressed in an odd gray
suit stood there. Beside him stood a small woman with long dark hair.
"Don't do that again," she said gently.
"It worked," Tom asked. "I'm alive?"
"Obviously," said the man in gray. "But you certainly gave the system a
pretty puzzle. The implant made an up to date recording of you when the
adrenaline kicked into your bloodstream as you ran to the door of that
burning house. But you were rather an elderly man, for your species, by
that point in your
life. We had to splice your brain scan into a body scan of your younger
self from the last time you were in the Museum. You're now in your
thirty year-old body once again, yet you should have every memory of
your mature
self at seventy seven. The implant you had was slightly
damaged—somehow. It seems that you've led a rather interesting life,
young man. I've never seen anything that could damage one of my
resurrection transponder chips. So, we have no way of knowing if there
was something missing from your memory recordings.
That's never happened before. Not in all the centuries since I created
the resurrection process. What I'm saying is that we had to rewrite you
slightly."
"So I might not be all here?" Tom asked. "Mentally, I mean."
"Everything checks out, medically speaking. Your new body is a perfect copy of your original one. But if the scan of your
memory was actually damaged, you may experience a few gaps
in your recollections. I have no reason to believe this is the case.
Merely a possibility. However, if you have any difficulty with your memories at all, you
should tell us immediately."
"But you are back in the Museum now, Tom. Welcome home," said Sara K,
the dark-haired woman.
"Welcome back, Tom. We'll try and catch you up on what you've missed
while you were back on Earth," said the Collector—the man in gray.
"Whenever you're ready to leave the sickbay, your friends here are waiting
to see you again."
"No time like the present," Tom said as he sat up and threw his legs
over the side of the bed.
"We have so much to show you," said Sarah. She smiled, and offered her
hand as Tom got off the bed and took his first steps of his third
life.
The
Collector put his arm around his Beloved's waist. "You will, however,
be required to wear trousers." He smiled as if he'd just repeated one
of his favorite jokes for the millionth time.
"I assume that one
of the machines can whip me up some clothes," Tom said. "This hospital
gown is just a tad drafty—" And he laughed.
To Be Continued…
© 2019 Dan L Hollifield
Bio: Dan L.
Hollifield
has been the Senior Editor and
Publisher of Aphelion Webzine since its inception in 1997. His short
story collection "Tales From The Mare Inebrium" was nominated for the
J.W. Campbell Award upon its release in 2014. His early online work has
appeared in several, now defunct, websites such as Dragon's Lair, Steel
Caves, Titanzine, and The Writer's Workshop. One of his steampunk short
stories, "Her Magesty's Gift" appears in the POD collection "Flash Of
Aphelion," and "The Dark Side of Diablo Canyon" appears in Horrified
Press' collection "Steam-Powered Dream Engines." He regularly attends
the Chattanooga TN convention LibertyCon and recently became the
Literary Track Director for the Atlanta GA convention AnachroCon. He is
currently 62 years old, married to his beloved Lindsey Burt-Hollifield,
and lives in the howling wastelands of Northeast Georgia, USA, outside
of Athens GA. They have seven children between their serial marriages
and more grandchildren and great-grandchildren than modern mathematics
is able to enumerate. They also are owned by a multitude of cats, and
one
very spoiled dog...
E-mail: Dan
L.
Hollifield
Comment on this story in the Aphelion Forum
Return to Aphelion's Index page.
|
