Larry Gao didn’t appreciate being called an “ambulance chaser.” Not only was the term pejorative, it was inaccurate since there were no ambulances to chase. “Portal parasite” was more like it. Sometimes a bug in the teleportation system allowed two people to port to the same place at the same time. The experience was traumatic for everyone involved. And when that happened, Larry was there to help.
It was good work. And it didn’t keep Larry up at night. At least it didn’t until he represented Calvin Stinson a third time in one year. The teleportation system wasn’t perfect, but the odds of it failing for the same person with such frequency were slim. Even though all of Calvin’s cases ended in lucrative settlements, Larry swore that he would decline to represent Calvin a fourth time, if it came to it. But then he got a call from Calvin’s brother.
Calvin had collided yet again. And this time it was with a robot. His brother wanted to sue for wrongful death and loss of consortium. So, Larry agreed to represent Calvin - well, his estate - one last time.
Larry pulled on some pants and headed to his “office”, a folding table wedged between his bed and his kitchenette. His was one of hundreds of studio apartments in a towering mass of self-tinting glass and 3D-printed graphene. His parents bought him the place his first year of law school. And he didn’t see any reason to leave.
Larry powered on his headset and pulled up the accident report. “August 16, 2075 at 3:42 a.m. - A 40-year-old male identified as Calvin Stinson and a Dreamscape N50 robot Serial No. 378337492 were involved in a collision while attempting to port to 34.0152 degrees North and -84.3618 degrees West using a Sandybridge Teleportation Systems network”.
Larry toggled to the Department of Licensing page and went to their robot database. He searched for the Dreamscape. The results listed the robot’s owner as “Floral Missives”. Further searching revealed Floral Missives to be an LLC owned by one Charlotte Potts.
Larry dialed their corporate number. A generic service bot, wearing a concierge suit in front of a plain metallic panel, appeared in his field of vision. “Welcome to Floral Missives, how may I help you?”
“May I speak to Charlotte Potts?”
“May I ask what you are calling about?”
“I’m an attorney representing the estate of Calvin Stinson. He was involved in an accident with one of your robots.”
“One moment please.”
A minute later, a lady with purple curls and matching chunky glasses appeared on the display.
“Helloooo,” she answered. Larry noticed that she was preoccupied with a bundle of flowers. Maybe a bouquet. Or a centerpiece? A tunnel carpeted in blossoms rotated around a solar panel behind her.
“Hi, Ms. Potts? My name is Larry Gao. I’m a personal injury attorney. I’m calling about…”
“Personal injury attorney?,” Ms. Potts snorted, placing a bioluminescent lily. “I didn’t know those still existed. What is there for you to do these days?”
Larry paused. “Well…there are accidents, like the one that occurred on August 16 involving a man named Calvin Stinson and one of your robots.”
“But, are there really enough collisions to keep you in business?”
Larry had to think about it. “Well, it’s not just collisions. Sometimes the systems port people too fast. Or halfway. And then there’s the occasional slip and fall.”
“Hmm.” Ms. Potts carefully lifted a carnivorous rose. “I’d be worried if I were you. They’re making the systems better and better. It’s only a matter of time before they patch all the bugs.”
“I appreciate your concern, Ms. Potts. Umm. So, are you being represented with respect to the August 16 accident?”
“No.”
“Ok. Regarding the N50, did you happen to disable any of the safeguards?”
“No, of course not. Why don’t they just reanimate him? The guy, I mean.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. Most of his cells were commingled with the robot’s atoms.”
“Oh. That’s awful! I’m sorry.”
Larry nodded solemnly.
Ms. Potts turned from her arrangement with a jolt. “That reminds me! Do you have any experience with class actions? Larry?”
“I do not,” Larry answered earnestly.
“That’s too bad. But it might be o.k. You know that cryogenics company, Therafrost? My grandmother’s body is there. I went to check on her in the body tank, and something seemed off. She looked worse than the last time I visited her. More withered.
So, I got online to see if I could figure out what was going on. A bunch of people were talking about it in forums. They say they’ve been cutting corners - not keeping a close eye on temperature and oxygen levels, not servicing cryo pods, skimping on supplement infusions - that kind of thing.
They probably think they can get away with it because most of the bodies have already been reanimated. You know? Maybe the remaining bodies don’t have living relatives or anyone who cares about them. But that’s not true. Some people can’t afford to pay for reanimation. Or are just waiting for the right time - like me.
So something should be done about it. I think a class action is the way to go. Would you be interested? I’m willing to finance it.”
Larry said he would have to sleep on it.
Larry slept on it. He wasn’t especially interested in trying something new. Words like “malpractice” and “bar complaint” kept flashing across his mind. But Ms. Potts’ words flashed louder. Maybe personal injury was a dying field. This was his chance to branch out.
He called Ms. Potts back the next day.
“We need a lead plaintiff. Someone who would represent the harmed class. But they have to be alive. Do you want me to reanimate your grandmother?”
“Lord, no. The jury is going to hate her. Just pick someone who looks nice. Go to Therafrost, ask to visit the body tank - you can just say that you’re visiting a friend or something - look at the people in the pods and read their bio plaques. Choose one that you think would make a good plaintiff and I’ll place an order for their reanimation.”
Larry entered the coordinates for Therafrost’s cryogenics facility in his telewatch. Flashing out of existence, he reappeared in a brightly-lit lobby with white walls.
After he checked in, an attendant led Larry to the body tank. His eyes took a minute to adjust to the darkness of the cavernous tank. The only light came from the rows of glowing pods lining the warehouse, each with a backlit bio plaque inscribed with a name and obituary.
“What was the name of your grandmother, again?” the attendant asked, adjusting their hologlasses and gesturing to scroll through a directory only visible to them.
“Ernestine Potts,” Larry replied. “P-O-T-T-S.”
“Got it. She’s in Row C, Column 9. That’s right over here.”
The attendant took Larry to Ernestine’s pod and left them to be alone.
Larry read Ernestine’s bio plaque. 1975-2034. “It would take a lot of rejuvenation procedures to get her in working shape,” Larry thought. He looked through the pod’s port hole. Even in death, Ernestine looked dour. Her lips were eternally pursed under a knit brow.
Larry wandered to the next pod. It held a man in his 40’s, his eyes closed in peaceful repose. “Ben Harris: A beloved father, soccer coach, and colleague. He was taken too soon,” read the bio plaque. Larry couldn’t stand the thought of a parent being revived to learn that children were old, deceased, or frozen themselves. He moved on.
The next pod held a teenage girl. Larry was clueless when it came to interacting with teenagers. Besides, a teenager would probably find a class action boring. She could be revived once the lawsuit was successful.
Moving on, Larry walked to a pod holding a woman in her 50’s with salt and pepper hair. Her skin had a bluish tinge and a scar curled around her neck. Larry read her bio plaque “Monica Diaz: An excellent lawyer and an even better sister, aunt, and friend.” Larry tapped the access log on the pod’s display. Last Accessed: August 15, 2075. That was… yesterday. Strange. He thought bodies weren’t touched until someone placed a reanimation order. Had someone already made arrangements? Maybe it was just routine maintenance. Larry ported home and called Ms. Potts. “Monica Diaz. There’s definitely something going on with her pod. Oh, she’s a lawyer, too.”
“Ok. I just hope she’s willing to help with the case. Not set on finding her family or traveling the world the second she opens her eyes,” Ms. Potts noted.
“Right, but that’s a risk we’ll be taking with anyone we choose.”
Ms. Potts said she would place the order.
The day came for Larry to pick-up Monica. Larry checked-in at Therafrost and was guided to a waiting room. An attendant told him that Monica had been alive for three days, staying in a recovery suite where she was monitored by medical staff, provided physical therapy, and fed nutritional supplements.
“There were some complications with her hands,” the attendant explained. “Some blood clotting. We had to amputate one of her fingers. But she seems to be regaining use of them.”
Larry winced. “Is that normal?”
“It’s actually pretty common. And she can always get a prosthetic.”
Larry took a seat and waited. A few minutes later, a door swung open and Monica tottered out, a loose hospital gown clinging to one of her shoulders and sliding off the other.
“Monica? Hi, hello. I’m Larry.” Larry extended his hand.
“Get me out of here,” Monica croaked, ignoring Larry’s gesture, and lumbering towards the nearest exit.
“But your clothes! You can’t go out like that!” Larry shouted chasing Monica outside. He caught up with her. “Hey, we can leave, but not walking. Here.” He pulled out his telewatch. “Hold onto me.”
Larry and Monica ported to an apartment Ms. Potts had provided. Larry helped Monica to a bed and placed an order for delivery - clothes, groceries, a headset, and a telewatch. He left Monica a note introducing himself. Then he left her to get some rest.
Two days passed. Larry messaged Monica. “You doing o.k.?”
“Just napping,” was the reply.
A few days later, he got another message from her. “Can you meet this afternoon?”
“Sure,” he replied. “At your apartment?”
“Your office.”
Larry almost fell off his yoga ball, which he used as a chair. “Um, let’s meet at a coffee shop. How about Percolation Station? I’ll send you the coordinates.”
Larry beamed in. He scanned the cafe and spotted Monica waving at him from a corner table. As he made his way towards her, he noted changes. Her skin had lost most of its blue tinge and her hair looked lustrous, almost silver.
“So, when are we getting started?” Monica asked. “Have you filed the complaint?”
“Uh, no.” Larry replied. “Did Ms. Potts tell you what’s going on?”
“Charlotte? Yeah, kinda. She spent most of our chat calling you an ambulance chaser and ranting about what a bitch her grandmother was.”
“Ah, o.k.
Well, before I file the complaint, I need to do some investigating.”
“Are you going to depose those scumbags?”
“No, that happens during discovery - after you file the complaint. Shouldn’t you know that? You’re a lawyer right?”
“Was a lawyer,” Monica scowled. “I did mergers and acquisitions. So, no, I should not know that.”
“Ahh,” Larry nodded, comprehending. “Were you at a firm?”
“Yep. A ‘biglaw’ in Atlanta.”
“Nice. I bet the pay was good.”
“You could say that. It was more than I needed.”
“Well, I hope you’re ready to dip your toes in litigation. Are you onboard?”
“Am I onboard?,” Monica threw her head back and laughed. She held up her left hand showing off the stump where her ring finger used to be. “What kind of standard of care is this? I’m gonna sue those assholes into oblivion.”
“Yeah. Great.” Larry bobbed with mounting enthusiasm.
“So what are we going for? Breach of contract? Negligence? Desecration of a corpse?”
“Well, it depends what they did. That’s why we need to investigate some more…
So, it’s obvious they aren’t taking great care of the bodies. But it’s not clear how and why.”
“Probably to save money, right? They figure that everyone that wants to reanimate someone has already done it. Nobody is coming for the remaining bodies and Therafrost will have to store them indefinitely.”
“That was my initial theory. But I looked at their annual report, and they’re actually doing quite well. People aren’t freezing folks much these days. No need since you can just revive someone as soon as they die. But Therafrost has verticals like anti-aging and brain dump, which are booming.”
“And if they didn’t want to store the remaining bodies, they could just reanimate them, right?” Monica added. “Hmm. There must be a reason they’re keeping the bodies frozen.” She sipped her coffee in thought. “Maybe they’ve been harvesting organs!”
“No, we grow synthetic organs now.”
“Holy cow. That’s awesome. Can they grow me a new finger?”
Larry shrugged. “Probably. Anyways, I think we should go back to the facility and poke around. We haven’t filed the complaint yet, so they have no reason to be suspicious of us. We can say that we’re looking for one of your friends or something.”
“My friends,” Monica rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.’
“That’s not what your bio plaque said.”
Monica leaned forward in her seat. “People always give you the benefit of the doubt when you’re dead.”
They had no problem getting into the body tank a second time. The attendant bought the story about Monica wanting to see if any of her friends were there and left them alone to peruse.
”Look!” Monica hissed, waving Larry over to a pod. “This guy is also blue.” Larry snapped a picture.
They weaved between rows of pods, documenting anything peculiar like missing limbs, discolored skin, and damage to equipment.
They stopped to watch some attendants transferring a pod to a dolly.
“Do you think they’re reanimating him?” Larry whispered.
Monica shrugged. They watched as the attendants wheeled the dolly to a set of thick metal doors. To the side of one of the doors was a scanner. An attendant waved their palm over it, and the doors swung open. The attendants pushed the pod through.
Monica and Larry continued wandering down the aisles. Less than an hour later, the metal doors reopened. The attendants emerged, pushing the man in the pod out.
“Maybe they were unsuccesful?” whispered Larry.
“Mm. Kinda weird to just roll him back in. Let’s get a closer look.”
Monica moved between pods casually, pretending to be scanning bio plaques. Larry trailed behind. When an attendant emerged from the doorway, Monica slid-in from behind and grasped one of the doors. She looked in. She shrieked.
“Excuse me! You can’t be here!” an attendant called. “This is a classified area.” The attendant touched his headset. “I need security. To the body tank. Now!”
“Don’t bother,” Larry heaved as he jogged towards Monica. He put his arm through hers and punched coordinates into his telewatch.
Monica was hyperventilating when they materialized in her apartment. Larry pulled her out a chair and set to prepare tea. They sat for a while, until Monica’s breathing returned to normal. Then, Larry asked her what happened.
“I don’t know…I don’t know what I saw. I think I’m going crazy.”
“Hey, now. You died in 2035 and woke up in 2075. Of course you feel like you’re going crazy. But all things considered, you seem pretty with it.”
Monica took a deep breath. “Ok. I think I saw me.”
“Like…in a mirror?”
”No. Like a doppelganger. I saw a person who looked like me.”
”What? Could it have been a relative?”
”No, it was like a clone. She even had my birthmark.” Monica pulled back her hair to reveal a port wine stain spanning from her left temple to her left ear.
Larry’s brow furrowed. “What was she doing?”
“Just…sitting there. In a chair. Like, watching something or waiting for something.” Monica closed her eyes and shook her head. “We need to go back. I need to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.”
”I don’t think they’ll let us back in. We’ve probably been added to a blacklist after today’s kerfuffle.”
“What if we go wearing disguises?”
”Like wigs? Or costumes? That’s not going to cut it. They likely scanned our retinas.”
“And we can’t change that?”
”Well, we can. Genetic modification is pretty popular these days. But it would be invasive. I don’t think I’m willing to go through it. We can just wait until discovery to get more information.”
”Well, maybe I’m willing. What else can they modify?”
”Pretty much anything.”
“And you’re still 5’5”?”
Days later, Larry called Monica to check on her post-operative recovery. She accepted the call and appeared on his display.
“What do you think?” she asked, showing off golden irises.
“Snazzy.”
”They have night vision, too.”
“Sweet.”
”So, should I go back this afternoon?”
”Uh, there’s really no rush. Let’s make sure you’re at 100% first. And that we have a solid plan.”
Larry advised against the ombre shag wig. He said it looked more 2025 than 2075. But Monica insisted. With her golden eyes and outmoded wig, she made it past Therafrost’s reception - almost. The receptionist frowned through hologlasses. “Who are you looking for?” “No one in particular. I want to see if any of my friends are here. They were stored at facilities all over the world. Hard to know which ones are where.” “Were you here recently?” “Nope.” The receptionist hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Head back to the tank. But keep your visit under thirty.” Monica smiled politely and walked off — fighting the urge to run. “Head to the metal doors,” Larry said through her earpiece. “You might not have much time. It’s so dark in there.” “Good thing I have night vision.” “But I can’t see. Can you turn up the brightness on your glasses?” Monica adjusted the dial until she heard Larry’s voice: “There! Great. Ok, I’m going to start recording.” Monica weaved through the pods and stationed herself in front of one close to the metal doors. She pretended to read the bio plaque. An attendant pushed through the metal doors. Before they closed, Monica slipped through.
Larry couldn’t believe what he was seeing. What Monica was seeing. Triplets, quintuplets, identical people walking around in hospital robes.
Monica pushed past shuffling gowns, heart hammering. She locked eyes with herself—a face, a birthmark she’d checked a thousand times in childhood mirrors.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
The woman’s gaze was cold, glassy. “I am M490. Just like you.”
”Intruder!” Someone shouted. An alarm sounded and the robed figures froze.
“Her!” A voice shouted. All the heads in the room swiveled and fixed their gaze on Monica. A squad of attendants rushed in and a shot rang out.
“Monica. Can you hear me?” Monica heard but couldn’t see. A field of infinite blackness stretched before her.
“Who is that? Where are you?” She felt someone take her hand.
“Monica. It’s me!”
Suddenly points of light perforated the darkness. Monica attempted to sit up. She could make out silhouettes, fuzzy shapes. Machines. An IV. A curtain. Larry sitting in a chair next to her.
“Larry! My god. I thought I died!”
Larry patted her shoulder. “You did.”
”What?” Monica winced, feeling a sharp pain in her chest.
”You did die. You died. But it was just a gunshot through the lung. So, reanimating you was super easy. You’ve got a new lung and everything!”
“Oh…” Monica sank back into the pillows. She felt dizzy.
Larry sat quietly.
Monica turned to him: “Did you record everything?”
”Yeah, I did. Already shared it with the police. Seems like Therafrost might be facing criminal charges now, too. You were right. They have been cloning bodies.”
”What? Why?”
”They’re probably selling them.”
“For what?”
“Illegal activity, like espionage or insider trading or fraud. Things that robots can’t do. Like mating.”
”Gross.”
”Yeah, so the FBI is involved now. And I filed our complaint! They’ll probably settle after all this.”
Monica looked like she was going to cry. “So, no trial?”
”Probably not. Sorry. There’s no need given the case you built against them. It’s pretty damning. I knew you were a lawyer when I picked you But, I didn’t expect you to be such a force! You’re the best partner I could ask for.”
“Barely makes up for all the shit I did the first time around.”
”You mean M&A? That does sound pretty boring.”
”No. I mean fraud.”
Larry looked confused.
“It was sort of a Ponzi scheme. That’s probably why nobody reanimated me. I bet my family regretted even paying to freeze me after the facts came out. Hopefully the statute of limitations has passed.”
“I’m sure it has. Hey, Monica. How did you die? I mean, the first time around?”
Monica pointed to the scars on her neck. Larry nodded.
”Well, I think the third time’s the charm. So, what do you want to do now that the case is closed? You could see if you have any living relatives. Or you could travel around the world. It’s pretty cheap nowadays.”
“Do you have any experience with civil rights?”
“No.”
”When I was waiting for my eye surgery, I was talking to a lady in the lobby. She was saying that teleportation companies have been denying service to low-income neighborhoods and rural areas. They restrict hubs and create artificial price barriers, so people in those communities can’t travel easily.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that.”
“If a business, neighborhood, whatever signs an agreement with a company like Sandybridge, they’re barred from letting people arrive via other teleportation networks. It’s basically a balkanized porting grid. Textbook Sherman Act violation if you ask me. Terrible for consumers. What do you say we go after them? First chair, second chair?” Monica winked.
That means these people are cut off from opportunities and basic needs, things like education, jobs, healthcare. It’s not just about convenience. It’s about equal access. What do you say we go after them? First chair, second chair?” Monica winked.
”Isn’t your bar membership expired?”
”So? What? I need to do a few CLE’s or something? Nothing I can’t knock out while I’m stuck in this bed. Hand me my headset.”
Larry did as he was told.
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