Their world had perfected sleep pods for those who were dying of any illness that there was, as of yet, no cure. Usually awakened in a few years once a cure is discovered, they're sent back to their families now cured. My pod.. got lost when a room caved in. Imagine my surprise when these strangers woke me up, almost 500 years later? -- Anon Guest
If one thing can be said about events, then it's this: I am glad that they don't let corporations behave the way they did in my day.
Well. They don't let a lot of corporations behave that way. There's still places called "Greater Deregulation" by the Alliance. Those are full of the kind of people who promise the moon and the stars and then deliver a sticker sheet. If they deliver anything at all.
I made a debatable mistake in trusting a health corporation that promised to cure anything. Including terminal diseases. They had stasis pods for terminal patients. They said they were in geologically stable areas.
Thank the Allmighty that they were as self-powered as they claimed to be. Whoops. I have to say 'thank the Powers' these days. Religious freedom means letting people believe that everyone shares the same religion via the all-covering euphemism. A small price to pay for folks to actually get along.
I digress.
I'm one of the many who were promised the moon and stars and ended up with stickers.
That geologically stable location? Got hit with an earthquake. That everything-proof vault I was in collapsed and the damage killed seven hundred and fifty-four people. People who trusted, like I did, the very clever marketing and assurances of the boffin mouthpieces.
We can't even sue them for that. The company imploded shortly after the vaults were sealed. It's like all those cryocorps who promised revivals to anyone who could buy in. All they ever made was cryocorpses.
When that sort of thing comes out into the open? The money evaporates.
I'm five hundred years lost from everything I knew. You might think it's hard to get used to things, but... after a few shocks and missteps? It's amazing what folks can get used to.
There's others who are lost like us. Though... not as lost as Ambassador Shayde, who kind of adopted us. Her story's weirder than mine and honestly sounds like it was cooked up by some sixteen-year-old weirdo with a very rich fantasy life[1].
Her help is welcome but... well. She's not from our time. Being relatable only in similar experiences.
The Alliance has given us what help they can. There's worlds upon worlds that are just waiting for people to come by and enjoy them. Since we know about technology and occupations that are five hundred years out of date? There's work waiting for us from Graveworlds.
A little bit depressing, but... income is income.
What gets to me, what gets to all of us, is the same thing.
Our friends and family knew where we were. They hoped we would come back, somehow. They left us messages. News. Memes.
Letters in the sands of time. Left unread for all of their lives.
And realising as, one by one, the communications stop... that that was the last message from them forever.
Were they too sick to write? Did they die that day? Did someone or something stop them? Did they just give up?
There's nothing to tell us what happened there.
Maybe it's dumb of me, but I tend to keep their last messages for a day when I'm ready to say goodbye.
Too much mourning is bad for the soul.
[1] Pointing a finger at myself and laughing.
[Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash]
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