Welcome Home

“Fly the ocean in a silver plane

See the jungle when it’s wet with rain

Just remember till you’re home again

You belong to me...”

The lyrics of the song were playing over and over in my head. I wasn’t sure where I was but I felt warm. My senses started coming to life slowly like I was waking up from a deep sleep. My arms and legs were tingling and it felt like something was crawling on me. I opened my eyes with a start and warm water ran into them. I was standing under warm running water.

“Welcome back, Calvin.”

The water stopped running and I was engulfed in warm air. I became aware I could not move my arms. I could feel my arms but they were trapped at my side. I was in some kind of body sized tube.

“Welcome back, Calvin,” the voice said again. I tried to respond but I couldn’t make a sound.

As my eyes cleared I realized I was in a room much like a hospital operating room. It looked sterile, there were stainless steel tables and chairs and cabinets, a white tile floor and stark white walls. A lot of bright light was coming from around the edge of the ceiling but no lamps or other light fixtures were in the room. A glass desk with two small looking television sets was against the far wall. Some sort of image was repeatedly swirling on the screens. Strange.

“Welcome back, Calvin.” The voice was soft and pleasant. A woman’s voice. But no one was in the room.

“Hell, hell, hello...? , I finally replied weakly. Where am I?” A warm mist filled the tube and I felt myself slipping back to sleep.

What seemed like a few minutes, but could have been days, passed and I woke gasping for air. I was in a hospital bed. Four people dressed in white, wearing matching white cloth masks and caps were standing over me. They looked like ghosts. One was wearing tiny eyeglasses. There were two men and two women I guessed. The room was large and well lit. A huge window was on my left, draperies were pulled open and the sky was blue. A small tube of some kind was in my nose and I could feel air softly blowing through it. A needle and tube was stuck in my arm but it wasn’t painful. And I was thirsty, desperately thirsty.

“Good afternoon Mr. Pearl, the tall ghost with the tiny spectacles said. Do you know your full name?”

“Calvin Pearl. Where am I, what is this place? I’m cold. Very cold. Can I get another blanke?"

“Sure,” he said and motioned to one of the other ghosts. “What else do you remember?”

“Song lyrics. Well, the chorus anyway of You Belong To Me,” I replied.

“I’m not familiar with that song Calvin,” asked one of the women standing there in white garb. “Who sang the song and when was it popular?”

“First, can I have a drink of water please?” The tall guy nodded to the person next to him and that person left the room.

“You’re kidding, right?, I answered. Jo Stafford, two months ago. It was a hit right away.”

They returned with a glass of water and handed it to me. It was chilled, not cold. Just right. I drank every sweet drop.

“Calvin, the tall guy started, let me introduce you to my staff. I’m Doctor Smith. Charles Smith. This is Dr. Harold Sam, Dr. Renee Frye, and Dr. Lindy Sharp. We’re part of a team that’s in charge of reviving patients who were put into suspended animation, cryogenically. We attempted to revive the first two patients who voluntarily underwent the cryogenic freeze experiment in 1951. Both died, unfortunately. In 1952, two more people in their thirties went through an extensive interview process to volunteer for the cryogenic freeze experiment. Out of two thousand applicants, two people were chosen. You are one of those two people.”

He continued, “Calvin I’d like to ask you a few questions. Be honest and answer to the best of your ability. If you have no recollection or have no sure answer, just say so. Okay? How old are you, what is your birth year? Have you ever been married? What was the name of your father? The name of your mother? Do you have any brothers or sisters? What state and city did you live in? Do you remember what you did for a living? Did you own a car? Were you buying a home or renting? Who was the President of the United States 1952? Did you serve in any military branch during World War II? If so, did you see action in the war? If the answer is yes, where were you deployed? Lastly, did you have any pets?”

I laid there numb. How could any of this be real? Was I dead? I didn’t feel dead. I asked, “What year is this?”

Dr. Smith looked at the other doctors and replied, “2019.”

“2019? What, how?”, I asked incredulously.

Can you answer any of those questions I asked? Any at all?”

I knew all the answers except for how I got into this place. In fact, I felt fairly good, just confused. So I started, “I’m thirty-five years old, I was born January 15, 1917 in Rapid City, South Dakota. My father and mother both passed away when I was nineteen. My father left a fair amount of money when he passed. He also had a large life insurance policy. I had money to live on for awhile and decided to go to school and become a civil engineer. I went to college at Colorado School of Mines in Golden, Colorado. I graduated in 1940 with a degree in petroleum engineering. While there, I participated in the ROTC program. I joined the army in 1942 and served in Manchester, England as part of a US Army Quatermaster division in charge of fuel and water distribution. I carried a sidearm but never actually saw action. I was a paper pusher. I left the Army for a civilian job in 1949. I was a Captain. I never met General Eisenhower but a saw him board a plane twice. He won the presidential election in November 1952. I voted for him. Last I knew, I was employed by the Shell Oil Company and worked in an office in Boise, Idaho. I’m divorced. My wife left me after two years and moved to Montana. We were still friends. I have her phone number somewhere. I was renting a decent house in a nice suburban neighborhood and drove a red 1949 GMC pickup truck. No pets. So, doctor, who is the president in 2019 assuming this country still operates the way it used to?” I asked snakily just to prove I wasn't the only one who wanted information.

The doctors quietly exchanged glances. Dr. Smith spoke first, “Memory of his past is fine.”

Smith smiled, “Donald J. Trump is currently the President of the United States. Thank you, Mr. Pearl. You’re getting fluids, electrolytes and vitamins in an IV. We will get you some real food in a couple of days. In the mean time, stay in bed. Don’t try to get up without help. Buzz if you need something. Just press the red button.” Then they turned and filed out of the room. I had no idea who Donald Trump was, as if I would anyway. Apparently, I had indeed been out of circulation, frozen, for well over sixty years.

I was dumbfounded. Tired. I drifted off to sleep and when I woke up the doctor introduced to me as Dr. Lindy Sharp was hooking up a new bag of electrolytes. She glanced down at me and spoke. “The other person who underwent the cryro freeze in 1952 has transitioned out and is recovering next door. Her name is Karen Kramer. We’re glad you are both well.”

“I feel fine. But I want to know what really happened. Why am I here, again? Was I ill, dying in 1952? What the hell happened that I ended up frozen and now I’m back sixty-seven years later? I should be one hundred and two years old.”

She sat on the chair next to the bed. “As Dr. Smith pointed out, you volunteered for this. By December of 1952, before Christmas, you and Ms. Kramer, who is from a different part of the country, volunteered and were chosen from a field of two thousand applicants. You are completely healthy. That was the primary prerequisite. You volunteered to be cryogenically frozen and then revived in 2019 as part of a well funded medical, psychological and social experiment. You agreed to be part of this extraordinary study for what we hope will be an understanding of how the human body endures cryogenic suspended animation, short term effects, long term effects and so on. Also, it’s going to allow us to examine from a real, first person perspective how you will respond to technological advances and social changes. Is your initial reaction going to be to resist change or easily adapt? The experiment in the long run, will provide data to help prepare space travelers in the near future adapt to suspended animation for long periods of time. We’ve found it remarkable that you remember everything of your past life, except signing up for the cryro freeze experiment, preparing for it, and checking into the Cryro Center for the procedure. Interesting. You should be recovered enough to see the new world out there in about a week.”

I glanced out my window, must’ve been several stories up. All I saw was light blue sky and wispy clouds. Thought. I figured I signed up for this like they said I did. “Space travel... huh? What city am I in?”

“You’re at the largest, most advanced Trauma Hospital in Colorado. You’re in Denver.”

“A trauma hospital?”

“This particular hospital is heavily funded by the Department of Defense. We have nearly unlimited resources to study new medical procedures including experimental surgeries and medications.”

“Really?” Then I must’ve blinked out. I woke up again four hours later according to the institutional looking clock on the wall.

They helped me out of bed and helped me walk six times a day. By day three I didn’t need help. On day five I met Karen Kramer. We both walked around the same floor for a couple of days talking and getting acquainted. We looked out every window we came to. We could see cars in the distance. Small cars, large cars, large trucks, some of them odd colors. Tall buildings were off to the south, many looked like they were made of glass. The only people we saw were dressed in blue, green, purple, black or white hospital scrubs.

Karen was from Corvallis, Oregon and had taught History at Oregon State University. Like me, she was thirty-five, had no strings attached to family, was in good physical condition and didn’t remember signing up for being cryogenically frozen and revived sixty-seven years later. She had not been in the military. She was fairly tall, with dark hair and we had quite a bit in common. She was confused and concerned but like me had resolved that she had indeed agreed to this "cryogenic experiment" as it was being called by the doctors.

On the seventh day after waking up in a hospital bed, we were taken to a conference room where we were told that we would be escorted outside and driven to a shopping mall outside of the Denver city center. While describing a “mall”, it was clear neither me nor Karen knew what they were talking about. Apparently, shopping had changed the last six decades. They claimed this mall housed over one hundred-ninety stores and covered over one million, five hundred thousand-sixty square feet. I don’t think Boise had that many stores in it’s entirety in 1952. I usually only went to one clothing store, one shoe store and a couple different grocery stores.

Smith then handed us a small device which he told us was a "cellular phone" and described how it worked. The notion a telephone could be carried around in my pocket and could make and receive calls seemed impossible. Yet there it was. Smith made a few phone calls from with it and showed me how to pull up the screen with the dial pad, how to dial from the screen and complete the call then talk and then how to disconnect. It was extraordinary. And extraordinarily interesting. I commented to him that it reminded me of something Dick Tracy wore on his wrist to which Smith replied, “Those actually exist. They’re much more than a two way radio though, they are phones as well as tiny computers that are capable of a number of functions.”

I was transported in a van to the mall with Dr. Lindy Sharp. Along the way I saw automobiles of every shape, size and color, including one that Dr. Sharp explained was electric. It supposed ran on powerful batteries that were periodically recharged. The technological advances made in the last six decades were fantastic. I was not only intrigued but greatly encouraged by what had taken place while I had checked out and had been cryogenically frozen.

The cryogenic technology was amazing in itself, especially for 1952. But so many advances had been made in computer sciences I was having a hard time gras it all. I knew some type of computer systems had been introduced and used by colleges in the late 1940’s but I had never seen one. Computers weren’t talked about in 1950 because hardly anyone knew they existed. Now as I found out, in 2019, nearly everyone not only owned and used a computer daily, computers were carried around in cases, they were in telephones and even worn on the wrist like a watch.

We pulled up to the mall and I was escorted in. It was all enclosed. It was enormous and it was beautiful. I smelled food immediately. Sharp pointed out the direction of what she called the food court, told me to keep close track of the phone and told me not to get lost. She gave me fifty dollars in different bills. The one dollar bills looked vaguely familiar but the fives, tens, and twenty looked very different. Lincoln, Hamilton and Jefferson were on the bills but the money had a new design and had some coloration to them. They were spiffed up in looks compared the money from the forties and fifties. I took off walking toward whatever the food court was. I walked by dozens and dozens of retail stores of every kind, including one that was selling women’s underwear.

The food court offered all sorts choices for food. I got an order of French fries with gravy and a Coka-Cola. It was excellent. Three hours later my cellular phone made a weird sounding ring. I pulled it from my shirt pocket and pressed the green dot on the glass screen. The name at the top of the screen said Dr. Lindy Sharp.

Dr. Sharp and the van were out in front of the mall fifteen minutes later and I was waiting for them. She smiled and I smiled back. “Have fun?”, she greeted me. I was carrying three shopping bags that said American Eagle, Dick’s Sporting Goods and Cinnabon.

“Yes, I did”, I answered. “I think I'm going to like the future and I’m ready for whatever is next.”

“Next is a debrief and a few days of education to bring you and Ms. Kramer up to speed with the Twenty-First Century. Then, we’ll talk about your future with the DOD. Welcome home Mr. Pearl. By the way, I found this for you on the internet.” She smiled and danced her fingers across a small portable computer the size of a thin book. Music started playing. Music I recognized. The first music I’d heard since 1952, the soft sensual singing of a woman started,

“Fly the ocean in a silver plane

See the jungle when it's wet with rain

Just remember till you're home again

You belong to me...”

I took in the sprawling city of Denver and took a deep, cleansing breath and listened to Jo Stafford singing, You Belong To Me from a small handheld computer the size of a National Geographic magazine. I thought, once this so called experiment was over, I’d make my way back to Idaho and see if anything was left for me there.