Khemet, Ra System, UIKRK3396.05.25
The Valley of the Dead, Maciska Crown Tomb V, deMakra Catacombs “So he’s dead then?”
“The answer depends on how you define ‘dead’.”
“For the sake of the succession?”
“Yes.”
“And... in other ways?”
“That's a matter for debate.”
For over a century the only sound in here had been the quiet hum of antique machinery, and the occasional clicking of a maintenance bot. But now there was conversation. The imagination suggests that in a place like this, it should be hushed whispers in reverential tones. Perhaps with an undercurrent of foreboding.
If the scene were to be accurately reproduced in a movie, the audience would be getting treated to a stream of profanity in around six languages. The corners of the casket containing the resident look artistic, but they are sharp, and they are at precisely the right height to catch people at that delightful spot just beneath the kneecap. It’s the sixth time the team leader has done it.
“…someone wrap some sodding foam around that before I draw blood
again, Jesus in a handbasket,” the elvhen researcher snarled; around him, the large team of people are looking entirely too innocent.
“Yes, Dr Meherai,” his deputy hauls him to his feet, very deliberately not smirking. Everyone else has managed to avoid injury.
The two turned around at a delicate cough behind them; it’s a representative from the Palace.
“I’m sorry to ask this again, but you are both sure this will work, yes? We’ve been told there’s only one shot,” his tone
is properly reverential.
Merhai lights up, the numerous bruises on his shins forgotten.
“The problem we’ve always had is that the early cryogenic techniques were crude. And then, given the way the Family tended to push itself… Put the two together; you lock a brain in the last milliseconds of its dying coma into suspended animation by freezing it, and it’s going to be very interesting trying to bring it back. If you can bring it back. This is going to be a challenge,” he rubs his hands together and smiles, “but, well, this is the best shot we have; we leave it too much longer, and the tissue will degrade beyond recovery. Not to mention the concerns we have about the others.”
“Thank you doctor,” the representative’s face is glum, and he resolutely avoided casting yet another furtive glance over his shoulder.
“I know the issues in question,” the doctor’s tone is gentle. “Which is why everything has been arranged the way it is. The real concern, aside from each brain being different, is that the records indicate they didn’t use the same process every-”
They were interrupted by a signal from the distant capital.
“We have a greenlight from Saragova…” now the representative did turn around; behind him, a man was approaching them.
“You may proceed,” he said, his voice and face betraying nothing. “Thank you, Kilare, but your presence is no longer required. I will maintain vigil.”
As the representative withdrew, the newcomer stood silently, and watched the team work; a still island in a sea of activity, his gaze fixed on the frost-encrusted casket. His eyes were the only movement; flickering from hands to panels, and then fixating on the body that was eventually revealed when they opened it, still wrapped in simple white cloth. He didn’t even flinch at the cascade of supercooled air that washed out, or at the rather disgusting sound of nanite soups being washed in and out. Or the smell.
The benefits of a synthform.
At long, long, last, many hours, the elderly figure groaned and moved; nurses surrounding him and making soothing noises, before doctors took over. Cognitive test, motion test, reflex test; the patient is grumpy, hungry, and wants to have a hot shower, but he’s all there. A detailed explanation of what would come next; the transference process finally perfected, but it must be begun soon. Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of time to catch up on what happened while he slept; it wasn’t as long as he thought it would be. And then, finally…
“Let’s get you out of there, sir.”
Constantinus VII watched the patient lurch upright, and then stagger to a halt, surprised for the first time.
“Good morning, grandfather.”