https://youtu.be/II3sc_XDxLw

   Did I just meet the devil? Was I dead? It looked and felt like a coffin. Only it had a clear glass front. It was like that final scene in the Netflix movie Oxygen.

I didn't feel dead. I felt cold. I also felt the rusty cleaver the old man had given me. It was in my hand. I could barely move it, but I did manage to push it into a slot in the inside of the coffin. It fit like a key. The lid above me automatically popped open. I tried to crawl out, but my arms and legs were not exactly listening to me. They felt numb. I sat up and realized I was hooked up to a bunch of wires and tubes which I quickly pulled off. "Ouch," I muttered. Still, everything seemed okay. The numbness was going away.  

I looked around. Where was I? It looked like a warehouse. There were rows of crates in every direction. They were stacked up blocking my view of any exterior wall. I stood up and found a way to climb down. Looking around I got the feeling I was in that warehouse from the Indiana Jones movie. That is probably the Ark of the covenant over there, I mused. Then, I heard a sound like the purring of an electric motor. I called out, "Hello, anybody there?"

No one answered, but the purring was getting closer. I got a bad feeling and considered crawling back into my coffin. What must have been a warehouse robot came into view. It was basically an automated forklift. It came up to the stack of crates I had just crawled down from, but it didn't seem interested in me; so, I got out of its way. It faced the stack, raised its forks, and speared the pallet my coffin was sitting on. It lowered the coffin, turned, and began taking the coffin in the direction Mr. Robot had come from.

I decided to follow. Still, I kept out of sight just in case.

Mr. Robot took the coffin to the far end of the warehouse, through a wide opening and down a corridor that was lined with large windows. I could see through the windows at what looked like laboratories. There were a few people inside the laboratories, but they were focused on their work. You know, looking through microscopes, measuring stuff into test tubes, making entries on keyboards. In one lab there were several people gathered around what looked like a cadaver. They never looked my way. All the same, I crouched down below the windows as I continued to follow my coffin.

Finally, Mr. Robot turned in an opening for one of the labs. I stayed outside peeking around the opening and listening. He set the coffin down in front of a group of people in lab coats. One of them looked at the coffin then at the others and said, "Uh-oh. Looks like we have an escapee."

"The time lock must have triggered prematurely," another man was clearly confirming what everyone was thinking.

"The question is, when did it trigger. This cryo-pod has been in storage for almost a thousand years. We not only don't know where the occupant is, we have no idea when they are!" One of the women pointed out.

"More importantly, how are we going to explain this and who are we going to blame it on?" They all began to eye each other nervously.

I pulled my head back from the opening and braced myself against the wall of the corridor. I had to digest what I had just heard. A thousand years! Miri was right. Here I was a thousand years in the future. Now what? I suppose I could just turn myself in to those guys, but how do I know they weren't planning to do some unspeakable experiments on me? They didn't impress me as being a very ethical bunch.

I really had no other choice. I had to find my way out of there and recon my surroundings. After all, I was supposed to save the world. So, I needed to find out what exactly I was saving it from. Probably those guys in the lab coats.

I wandered down the corridor looking for an exit sign. I found a supply closet. Moans were coming from it. Perhaps someone else had escaped and was hurt and hiding in the closet. I slowly peeked inside. Two practically naked folk were on the floor making the beast with two backs. A thousand years and some things never change. They were so fully engaged that they didn't see me peeping at them. They also didn't see me grab the woman's lab coat which was hanging on a hook near the door. I figured the coat would make me less conspicuous as I continued my search for the exit.

I was right. I was able to walk unbothered through the lobby and right out the front door where I was pelted with a rotten tomato and met with a chorus of boos and jeers from a small group of protesters outside the building. Yeah, some things never change. I wondered what they were protesting, but I wasn't curious enough to hang around. I wanted to put as much distance between me and that place as soon as possible.

   I made it to the street. Totally confused by the alien looking structures around me. I was approached by a smiling older gentleman who asked, "You don't work here, do you?"

I gave him a questioning look.

He explained, "The regular employees use the rear doors to avoid the protestors. So, what were you doing at New Life Labs?"

I had no idea how to answer. He seemed like a nice enough man, but honestly, I didn't know the answer to that question myself.

He picked up on my hesitancy and confusion. He glanced down at the tape marks on my arms and forehead where the wires had been attached and softly whispered, "Oh my god! You're an escapee, aren't you?" He quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching, then he placed his hand on my elbow and guided me down the street saying, "Come with me. I can protect you."

He took me to a nearby café. We sat in an isolated booth in the back. "I bet you're hungry," he smiled.

He was right. I was starving. We placed our orders through a tableside AI device that could answer questions and make recommendations almost as if you were talking to a person. Our orders were brought almost immediately to us by a robotic server. It even placed each order on the table in front of the right person.

I devoured what was supposed to be a hamburger although it didn't taste like any hamburger I had ever had. I was so hungry; I would have eaten cardboard which is close to what that burger tasted like. As I was eating, we introduced ourselves. He said I could call him The Professor.

"So, you are a professor?" I asked.

"Sometimes and sometimes people are just using the name to refer to my pedantic nature. It's okay, I don't mind," he answered pedantically.

When I finished eating, I asked, "So, what exactly is New Life Laboratories?"

"The name is somewhat misleading. They say their business is to restore new life to old bodies."

"That doesn't sound bad."

"Oh, it is very bad. The old bodies are ones they've collected from facilities that stored cryopreserved bodies of critically ill people who submitted to the cryogenic process in the hope of a cure in the future. It became quite popular for a while. Thousands of storage facilities opened all over the world and millions of people were put in cold storage. Unfortunately, most of those facilities went bankrupt. New life foreclosed on the bodies."

"So, New life reanimates the bodies and cures the people?" I asked.

"Not exactly." He frowned and explained, "They reanimate the bodies, but usually the body's minds are not fully functional. The parts of the brain critical for life support still function, but if any vestige of their former memories remain, they are basically wiped clean. They are only interested in the bodies. They implant receivers in the brains making them basically remote-control zombies with no consciousness. Bodies that were dead, now have new life, one controlled by New Life who sells them to be servants or keeps them for their own private army. For now, they serve as security guards for all their labs around the world. But, they have so many of these zombies, I suspect they have other plans." He frowned.

"You are one of the lucky ones who regained consciousness and got out of there before they could wipe your memory," he added.

"They can do that?" I asked.

"Not only can they erase memories, but they can also add new ones. They have a side business where they buy and sell memories. I suspect some of the memories they sell are stolen from the repossessed bodies.

"Whoa, whoa. How does that work? And who wants to buy memories?"

"Some people want the memory of an experience, but don't want the risk of having actually lived it. You go to New Life, and they program the experience into your brain. You awake thinking you actually had the experience you recall from that memory. Of course, first they must find someone who has actually had the experience and is willing to sell it. You see, they can only program it into your brain if they can copy it from another brain. The brain that it is copied from loses the memory."

"That is so bizarre. I can't imagine either buying or giving up one of my memories."

"Have you ever wanted to try sky diving?"

"A little maybe, but it is way too dangerous."

"Exactly, but a guy who has made a lot of jumps would be more than willing to sell one of his memories to you. He can always replace it and get the same thrill of doing the jump again as if it was his first time. You can also buy memories of having sex with a movie star or even killing someone. There is an incredible market for both buying and selling memories and New Life is the middleman in this lucrative market.

"You are saying that New Life not only steals memories from foreclosed-on bodies, but they also buy and sell them. And they are also creating a zombie army. Sounds like the zombies aren't the only ones without a conscience.

"The human race now must seem very alien to you.

"I'll say. A total lack of ethics, not to mention zombies everywhere. What became of the human race I used to know?

"I suspect they were the ones who threw the tomatoes at you. Someone just has to help the rest find their way and put a stop to the creation of these zombies.

"I guess that is why I am here. I'm going to save the world from the zombie apocalypse."

"Metoo." He nodded.