Yes. Zig was alive. So the data suggested. He had survived the Great Sleep. Now what? Get up, I suppose. Zig did just that. Emerged from his pod. Brain fog. Zig needed coffee. Or a woman. His member was erect. The nurses giggled. Easy there, Zig. He stretched his arms. Clenched his ass muscles. Zig was naked. He was a fine specimen, considering. Zig squatted & performed a downward-dog. The nurses were impressed. They clapped. “Can you speak?” one of the nurses said. Zig smiled & said, “You better fucking believe it!” He stepped into a zippered blue jump suit. Zipped it up. His “package” was still visible. “Palpable,” is how one of the nurses later described it. She had short-cropped black hair, and she was eager to bed a 300-year-old man. And she did. Zig probably had the biggest orgasm in recorded human history. Better yet, so did she. Her name was Eliška. And the sex was more than sex. She became pregnant. But before any of this came to light, Zig wandered the metropolis. It was now entirely underground. He was told we had “burned the atmosphere.” His hands behind his back as he listened, all he could muster was “Alas!” Zig had a beard that stretched down to his belly button. Everybody else was clean-shaven. Zig decided to keep the beard & his long hair. He was told “hair is strange!” Zig shrugged and said, “Indeed. I am an animal.” His quarters were shown to him by a young man named Lars in a yellow jumpsuit. It was a glass cube in an agglomerate of oddly stacked glass cubes. The glass darkened on command. Most of his neighbors seemed okay with letting everybody see everything. “We have nothing to hide,” Lars explained. Zig scratched his beard. “Well, maybe I do.” His voice command darkened the glass. And Lars took his leave. Zig explored his apartment. Checked his refrigerator. There was milk. Boxed cereal in a cupboard. Not much had changed, he thought. There was a television cube. It projected a three-dimensional image. Zig thought he could smell the “pine forest” in the TV show. It was about a place called Long Island, now underwater. Babylon was no Atlantis, Zig thought. Zig clapped his hands. The TV cube extinguished itself. Light from the ceiling was intense. It would need to be adjusted. The floors were barren. No carpet. No rugs. The smooth floor was made from some sort of plastic. It could change color on command. “Teal,” Zig whispered. And so it was. It was figuring out what he was supposed to do that was hard for Zig. He had been resurrected, yes. But why? It was quite possible that nobody he knew was alive. If so, it was a metropolis of strangers. Or was it? The night he spent with Eliška was remarkable. He would have to look her up. Or was it pre-arranged? Zig wondered. The city now behaved in mysterious ways. That said, he reminded himself: even 200 years ago, it was peculiar. Nobody really knew what was going on. Things just happened. Zig jumped into his jumpsuit. The color had changed to orange. Apparently, it changed according to mood. Whose mood, Zig wondered. The street was busy. Electric eel-like trams with detachable cars zipped back & forth. He would have to learn to ride these things if he was to get anywhere. A detachable car pulled up in front of him. A door slid open. A robotic voice inside said: “Where to, Mr. Zig?” The car was made of a white plastic. Zig climbed in. “I would like to go to Eliška’s apartment,” he said. The robotic voice said, “Which one? There are twelve Eliškas in the metropolis.” Zig scratched his beard. He had been told the city had done away with surnames a century ago. “Hmm. She is a… nurse?” The detachable car chirped & the door closed. “Got it, pal,” the robotic voice said, “sit back & relax.” The detachable car zoomed into traffic & attached itself to the back of an electric eel. The snaking turns took getting used to & Zig was struck by the remarkable speed & precision of the electric eels. There was no weather in the metropolis. It was always 68 degrees Fahrenheit. Zig felt neither warm nor cold. The detachable car dropped him off at an apartment complex of irregularly stacked glass cubes. Sure enough, Eliška’s name was listed under the buzzer: ELIŠKA NURSE. Zig smiled & thought: really? After a few moments, a female voice crackled in radio static, a little too loud: “Hello?!” “It’s me, Zig. The 300-year-old man.” Eliška laughed, “Come in.” She lived on the 46th floor. Zig imagined taking the stairs. So many people. So many cubes. The 46th floor hallway had carpet. Carpet! Apparently, this was a retro-building. Designed to echo a past architectural style. Indeed, there was even a potted plant. An impoverished palm tree of some sort. Eliška was waiting for Zig in an open doorway. She gave him a hug & a kiss on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me again,” she said, “after a resurrection, people sometimes act on impulse. I hope you do not feel like I took advantage of you.” Zig shook his head. “Not at all. What we did was beautiful.” Zig was also struck by something she said. “You mean you’ve resurrected others?” he asked. “Yes. Of course. I am a specialized nurse.” Zig stepped further into the apartment. In the living room there was a sofa & an old-fashioned cathode-ray TV. Eliška made a motion to sit. She was not wearing a jumpsuit. She was wearing jeans & a white blouse. Sandals on her bare feet. “So what does it feel like,” she said. “To be awake?” “Startling, really. I am not sure I know who I am.” “Understandable,” Eliška said. “The concept of identity has changed significantly in the last 200 years.” “Mmmm,” Zig murmured. He was thinking. But what was he thinking? “Are you hungry? I have some boxed cereal & milk,” Eliška offered. “Not right now,” Zig said. “Maybe later.” They made love again that night. It was not as fantastic as the first night. But it was still pretty damn good. It was also comforting. Zig felt afraid.
-- R.G. Vasicek is a lo-fi novelist & machine elf in NYC. His latest project is AUGENBLICK (755 pages!), a collaboration with Kenji Siratori. X marks the spot @rg_vasicek