Magazine section
4 essays examining this part of cryonics history, practice, evidence, or possible futures.
I wake to the hum of a city that looks the same and sounds different. The morning light filters through tall windows, but the air has a calm, almost clinical cadence I didn’t expect. I’m sixty one years old…
I have been thinking about the day after waking up, if such a day ever comes. Not the spark of the moment when the machine hums and time seems to fold in on itself, but the long stretch after. The ordinary work…
The night I woke, the clock said it was quiet in the room but loud in my head. It wasn’t the hiss of machines or the glow of a monitor that startled me most. It was a rush of ordinary sounds, each one louder…
My name is Andrea Cole. I am sixty one, living near the edge of the Pacific Northwest where rain lingers in the streets and the trees hold their breath a little longer than before. The idea of waking up two…