Brave New Worlds

'A nightmare. '

'Miami Isle?'

'Forget it. '

Connie lays the font on the bulwark then clambers onto the rail, straddling it like a child riding a see-saw. A loop of heavy-duty chain encircles the font, the steel links flashing in the rising sun. 'then what's our course?'

'East,' says Valerie. 'Toward Europe. What are you doing?'

'East,' Connie echoes, tipping the font seaward. 'Europe. '

A muffled, liquid crash reverberates across the harbor. The font disappears, dragging the chain behind it.

'Father!'

Drawing in a deep breath, Connie studies the chain. The spiral of links unwinds quickly and smoothly, like a coiled rattlesnake striking its prey. The slack vanishes. Connie feels the iron shackle seize his ankle. He flips over. He falls.

'Bless these waters, O Lord, that they might grant this sinner the gift of life everlasting. '

'Father!'

He plunges into the harbor, penetrating its cold hard surface: an experience, he decides, not unlike throwing oneself through a plate glass window. The waters envelop him, filling his ears and stinging his eyes.

We welcome this sinner into the mystical body of Christ, and do mark him with the Sign of the Cross, Connie recites in his mind, reaching up and drawing the sacred plus sign on his forehead.

He exhales, bubble following bubble.

Cornelius Dennis Monaghan, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, he concludes, and as the black wind sweeps through his brain, sucking him toward immortality, he knows that he's never been happier.

Peter Skilling by ALEX IRVINE

Alex Irvine — a k a Alexander C. Irvine — is the author of the original novels A Scattering of Jades; One King, One Solider; The Life of Riley; The Narrows; and Buyout. He's also written some tie-in novels, such as Transformers: Exodus, Batman: Inferno, and Iron Man: Virus. His work on this last property has lead him to script the Iron Man: Rapture miniseries for Marvel Comics. Irvine is also a prolific author of short fiction, with more than forty stories published since making his debut in 2000. His short work, which frequently appears in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, has been collected in Unintended Consequences, Pictures from an Expedition, and in a four-story chapbook, Rossetti Song.

Since the late 1970s, Conservative Christians have united their voices to take an active and highly visible role in the American political sphere. It is an interesting development in a nation founded on the separation of church and state, and one that provides fodder for a great deal of speculation. Even science fiction writers sometimes wonder: what would the United States be like if current trends in conservatism and religiosity continue?

Our next story spins just such a future world, a world that has taken a significantly dark tone. This United States is a surveillance state bristling with rules and rigid strictures. Within such a complicated framework, it would take years to learn all the right things to do or say — years Peter Skilling never had. He's awakened ninety-eight years after his own death, a stranger in his own homeland. Medical science has given him a second chance at life, but living it just might be beyond his grasp.

Here is a new dystopian America. Thomas Jefferson would be glad they can't bring him back to live in it.

* * *

Peter Skilling did not remember falling into a glacial crevasse on the north slope of Mount McKinley, so it came as a surprise to him when he awoke to find what appeared to be a robot sitting next to his bed.

'You're a very lucky man, Peter Skilling,' the robot said to him. 'A genuinely unique set of circumstances. You might have sustained fatal trauma from your fall, but look! You fell into a subglacial stream, resulting in scrapes and bruises only! And you might have been ground to gel by the glacier but for the earthquake that struck hours after your death and sheared away a portion of the mountain, leaving your body exposed in a depression away from the redirected glacier. Then, too, consider the above-average snowfall that encased your remains and protected you from the depredations of weather and wildlife. '

'My remains?' Peter croaked.

Noting the dryness of his throat, the robot moved swiftly to unspool a thin hose from the wall and placed its nipple in Peter's mouth. Reflexively Peter sucked, and his mouth filled with cool water.

'This is the truly amazing chapter in your saga, Mr. Skilling,' the robot gushed. 'You died so quickly and in such cold water that — if you'll permit me an inorganic figure of speech — your autonomic system shorted out. Your brain function is astonishingly well preserved, and we have been able to surgically reconstruct damaged pathways. You were our perfect candidate. Quite a find, if I do say so myself!'

The robot paused. 'Do you consider yourself sufficiently apprised of the fortuitous circumstances in which you find yourself?'

Peter hadn't caught much of the robot's effusion, but he gathered that he'd been in an accident on the mountain and survived. That seemed lucky. 'I guess,' he said.

'Very good,' the robot said. It extended a hand, and Peter shook. The robot's hand was warm. 'I am called Burkhardt,' the robot said. 'I wish you all the very best. '

It left, and Peter noticed a woman in a white coat who had apparently been waiting near the door while the robot, Burkhardt, had told Peter how lucky he was. She stepped forward and smiled at him. 'I'm Dr. McBride,' she said. 'I hope the steelie didn't overload you. We have to observe protocols as part of our grant mechanism, and it's easier to have robots take care of them than entrust the process to people. '

'Okay,' Peter said.

'Why don't you sit up?' Dr. McBride suggested. 'I think you'll find everything's in working order. '

Peter sat up, surfed a brief wave of dizziness, and discovered that he did feel pretty good. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I feel okay. So why am I in the hospital?'

Dr. McBride looked annoyed. 'Yes. I thought maybe Burkhardt had rushed a little. These federal programs, you know. Not that I'm criticizing, it would be much more difficult to address everything on a case-by-case basis when we don't have access to all the intelligence, but it's only natural. 'Although she still looked in his direction, the doctor was no longer talking to Peter.

He took another drink from the wall nipple. Dr. McBride looked up at him and smiled again, apologetically this time. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Skilling,' she said. 'I haven't answered your question. '

Peter raised an eyebrow and sucked at the nipple.

'You see, you died in 2005. We've spent the past several months working you through the rejuvenation process, and I have to say it's gone very well. '

The nipple fell out of Peter's mouth and a little water dribbled down his chin. Dr. McBride's smile regained some of its strength.

'There's no way to cushion it,'she said. 'Although God knows Burkhardt tries. You've been dead for ninety- eight years. And now you have another chance to live. '

Her gaze shifted to a monitor by Peter's head. 'Mm,' she said. 'I was afraid of that. ' Crossing to the monitor, Dr. McBride opened a drawer and removed a shiny instrument.

Peter couldn't breathe. He tried to speak, and a breathy whine came out of his mouth.

'I've going to give you something that will alleviate your shock response,' Dr. McBride said. Peter heard a