“A while. I didn’t want to disappoint you. There were so many times I almost said something.”
“Are you scared? Is that it? Look, that’s totally normal.”
“It’s not that.”
Pilcher leaned back into the cushion and stared at the blank screens.
He said, “Our entire life together has been building toward tonight. It’s all been about tonight. And you’re walking away from it?”
“I’m sorry.”
“This means you’re walking away from your daughter.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
He stared at her. “How does it not? Explain that to me.”
“Alyssa is ten years old. Middle school is right around the corner. I don’t want her first dance to be in this town that’s not even built, two thousand years from now. Her first kiss. University. Seeing the world. What happens to those moments?”
“She can still have them. Well, some of them.”
“She’s already sacrificed so much since we’ve moved into the superstructure. Her life, my life, is here and now, and you don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know what this world will be like when you come out of suspension.”
“Elisabeth, you’ve known me for twenty-five years. Have I ever done or said anything that would lead you to believe I would allow you to take my daughter away from me?”
“David.”
“Please just answer that.”
“It’s not fair to her.”
“Not fair? She’s getting an opportunity no human being has ever been given. To see the future.”
“I want her to have a normal life, David.”
“Where is she?”
“What?”
“Right now. Where is my daughter?”
“In her room, packing. We’ll stay through the party.”
“Please.” The desperation in his voice surprised him. “How do you expect me to be separated from my daughter—”
“Oh, fuck off.” A flash of pent-up fury. “She barely knows you as it is.”
“Elisabeth—”
“I barely know you as it is. Let’s not pretend all this hasn’t been your obsession. Your first love. Not me. Not Alyssa.”
“That’s not true.”
“This project has consumed you. The last five years, I’ve watched you change into something deeply unpleasant. You’ve crossed more than a few lines, and I wonder if you fully even know what you’ve become.”
“I’ve done what I had to do to reach tonight. I make no apologies. I said from the beginning there was nothing that was going to stop me.”
“Well, I hope it’s all worth it in the end.”
“Please don’t do this. This should be the greatest night of my life. Our lives. I want you there on the other side when we all wake up.”
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
Pilcher took a long breath in, let it slowly out.
“This must have been difficult for you,” he said.
“You have no idea.”
“You’ll at least stay on through the party?”
“Of course.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
Couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that.
“I should talk to Alyssa,” he said.
“After the party, we’ll say our goodbyes.”
She stood.
Gray Chanel dress.
Wavy silver hair.
He watched her move gracefully toward the oak doors.
When she was gone, Pilcher went to his desk.
Lifted the phone.
Dialed.
Arnold Pope answered on the first ring.
It would’ve been the best champagne Hassler had ever tasted if he could appreciate it, but the nerves were getting to him.
This place was unreal.
Word was it had taken thirty-two years to complete the tunneling, the blasting, the excavation. The price tag must have been north of fifty billion. An entire fleet of 747s could’ve fit inside that cavernous warehouse, but he had a hunch the real money had gone into the room where he now stood.
It was the size of a grocery store.
Hundreds of drink-machine-sized units stood hissing and beeping as far back as he could see. Some of them vented white gas, the vapor hovering ten feet above the floor. It was like walking through a cold, blue fog. The ceiling invisible. The cold air pure and ionized.
“Would you like to see her, Adam?”
The voice startled him.
Hassler turned, faced Pilcher.
The man looked dapper in a crisp tuxedo, champagne flute in one hand.
“Yes,” Hassler said.
“Right this way.”
Pilcher led him down a long row toward the back of the room, and then up another aisle of machines.
“Here we are,” he said.
There was a keypad, gauges, readouts, and a digital nameplate:
THERESA LIDEN BURKE
SUSPENSION DATE: 12/19/13
SEATTLE, WA
Down the front of the machine streaked a thick pane of glass, two inches wide.
Through it, he saw black sand and a patch of skin—Theresa’s cheek.
Hassler involuntarily touched the glass.
“We’re about to get started,” Pilcher said.
“Is she dreaming?” Hassler asked.
“None of our testing—and there’s been plenty of it—indicates any level of sentience during suspension. There’s no brainwave activity. The longest we’ve put any of our test subjects under has been for nineteen months. No one reported any sense of time while they were down.”
“So it’s like a light switch going off?”
“Something like that. Did you get a chance to read the memorandum in your room? Everybody got one.”
“No, I just finished the medical exam and came straight here.”
“Ah, well, you’ll be in for a few surprises.”
“Is everyone on your team going under tonight?”
“A small group has been chosen to stay behind for the next twenty years. They’ll continue to gather provisions. Make sure we have the latest technology. Tie up a few loose ends.”
“But you’re going under.”
“Of course.” Pilcher laughed. “I’m not getting any younger. I’d rather bank my time in the world to come. We should get back out there.”
Hassler followed him out into the cavern.
Pilcher’s people were waiting—everyone dressed to the nines.
Men in tuxes, women in little black dresses.
Pilcher climbed up onto a crate and looked out over the crowd.
He smiled.
In the light of a giant globe that hung down from a cable in the rock above, Hassler thought he saw Pilcher’s eyes turn glassy with emotion.
He said, “Tonight, we come to the end of a journey thirty-two years in the making. But like all endings, it’s also a beginning. As we say goodbye to the world we know, we look forward to the world to come. The world that waits for us, two thousand years from now. I’m excited. I know you are too. And maybe you’re also afraid, but that’s okay. Fear means you’re alive. Pushing boundaries. No adventure without fear, and my God are we all on the brink of one hell of an adventure.” He raised his glass. “I would like to propose a toast. To each and every one of you who’ve come this far with me and are about to take this final leap of faith. I promise you, the parachutes will open.” Nervous laughter flickered through the crowd. “Thank you. Thank you for your trust. For your work. For your friendship. Here’s to you.”