[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 of
Eric'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 he
floated boiled off at a temperature still far below that which would
permit his body to function.
By the time all the liquid was gone he had uncurled and lay at the
bottom of the tub. Now his heart pumped three hundred times a minute,
generating warmth and activating his central nervous system. It took
many hours for his heart to slow--not back to the one beat every two
minutes it had known for a hundred-seventy-five years, but to the
normal rate of about seventy per minute. By then his body temperature
had climbed from below freezing to 98° F.
Eric lay in stupor for a week, while fluids flowed into the tub and
massaged 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 other
lockers were open and empty, as were six tubs. He found that hard to
believe. It had seemed only a night of deep and dreamless sleep, no
more. But each empty tub stood for twenty-five years, each open locker
meant a man had gone and lived his time with the new generations of the
ship, perhaps had sired children, had died with old age.
[Illustration: _At intervals of twenty-five years, they would arise to
police the ship._]
Eric found his clothing on a hook, took it down. Yesterday--he
laughed mirthlessly when he realized that had been almost two hundred
years ago--Clair had told him something about a note. He found it in
the breast pocket of his jumper, stiff and yellow. He read:
_Darling: I will be ashes in the void between the stars when you
read this. That sounds silly, but it's the truth--unless I can give
old Methuselah a run for his money; I sadden when I think that you
will be gone tomorrow, the same as dead. But if they need ten and
if you are one who can withstand suspension--what can we do? Know
that my love goes with you across the ages, Eric._
_I just thought of something. You'll be the seventh of ten, with
the last one coming out at planet-fall. If you live to be a real
gray-beard, you might even see the landing on the Centaurian planet.
I love you._
_Clair_--
If Clair had married, her great-grandchildren might be alive now. Her
great-great-grandchildren would be Eric's age. Clair's progeny, not
Clair--because Clair was dust now, a light year back in space--
He found a package of cigarettes in his jumper, took one out and lit
it. He must not think of the past, not when it was only history now
although he still felt very much a part of it. Today mattered, today
and the new generations on the ship.
It crossed his mind that they might regard him almost as a god, a man
who had seen Earth, who had slept while generations lived and died,
who came from his impossible sleep and would live with them now to see
that everything was going according to plan.
Three minutes after he started the mechanism, the door slid ponderously
into the wall. It would open more simply from the other side, he knew,
but then only Eric and the three who still slept could turn its complex
tumblers. For a long while he stood there on the threshold and then he
watched the door slide back into place.
* * * * *
The corridor glowed with soft white light, which meant it was daytime
on the ship. Dimly in the distance, Eric heard voices, children at
play. Would they know of him? Would their parents know? Was he expected?
Eric came closer. Through a doorway he could see the children, three of
them, although they had not yet seen him. A chubby, freckle-faced boy
said:
"Let's play Lazarus. I must be the Captain, and you, Janie, you can be
the crew. George, you be Lazarus."
George was a big ten-year-old with dark hair. "Like heck I will! It was
your idea, you be Lazarus, smart guy."
Eric stepped through the doorway. "Hello," he said. "Can you take me to
your folks?"
"Who're you, Mister?"
"Hey, I don't know him! Where'd he come from?"