Ten miracles were arranged for the age-long flight. But they reckonedwithout——
RESURRECTION SEVEN
By Stephen Marlowe
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1952.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The seventh tub shook gently, stimulating the hypothalamic region ofEric's brain for the first time in almost two centuries. After a time,his limbs trembled and his body began to shiver. The liquid in which hefloated boiled off at a temperature still far below that which wouldpermit his body to function.
By the time all the liquid was gone he had uncurled and lay at thebottom of the tub. Now his heart pumped three hundred times a minute,generating warmth and activating his central nervous system. It tookmany hours for his heart to slow—not back to the one beat every twominutes it had known for a hundred-seventy-five years, but to thenormal rate of about seventy per minute. By then his body temperaturehad climbed from below freezing to 98° F.
Eric lay in stupor for a week, while fluids flowed into the tub andmassaged his muscles, while fatty tissue slowly turned into strength.Finally, he climbed from his tub.
He found the locker which bore his name, and opened it. Six otherlockers were open and empty, as were six tubs. He found that hard tobelieve. It had seemed only a night of deep and dreamless sleep, nomore. But each empty tub stood for twenty-five years, each open lockermeant a man had gone and lived his time with the new generations of theship, perhaps had sired children, had died with old age.
At intervals of twenty-five years, they would arise topolice the ship.
Eric found his clothing on a hook, took it down. Yesterday—helaughed mirthlessly when he realized that had been almost two hundredyears ago—Clair had told him something about a note. He found it inthe breast pocket of his jumper, stiff and yellow. He read:
Darling: I will be ashes in the void between the stars when you readthis. That sounds silly, but it's the truth—unless I can give oldMethuselah a run for his money; I sadden when I think that you will begone tomorrow, the same as dead. But if they need ten and if you areone who can withstand suspension—what can we do? Know that my lovegoes with you across the ages, Eric.
I just thought of something. You'll be the seventh of ten, withthe last one coming out at planet-fall. If you live to be a realgray-beard, you might even see the landing on the Centaurian planet. Ilove you.
Clair—
If Clair had married, her great-grandchildren might be alive now. Hergreat-great-grandchildren would be Eric's age. Clair's progeny, notClair—because Clair was dust now, a light year back in space—
He found a package of cigarettes in his jumper, took one out and litit. He must not think of the past, not when it was only history nowalthough he still felt very much a part of it. Today mattered, todayand the new generations on the ship.
It crossed his mind that they might regard him almost as a god, a manwho had seen Earth, who had slept while generations lived and died,who came from his impossible sleep and would live with them now to seetha