The World at the End of Time by Frederik Pohl Read Free Book Online Page A

him to work.
    Her job had been tugging some of the huge crystal caskets out of their wall racks, setting them in place at the workshop. Empty, they weren’t heavy, but Viktor’s help was welcome. “Why are we doing this?” he asked.
    “For the people that are going into the freezer again, of course,” she said crossly. “What, are you too weak to help me? I was doing it myself until you came along, an old woman like me.” And indeed the work was mostly just awkward. “That one,” she said, pointing to one already stacked, “that one was yours, Viktor. For you and your family. How did you like it, all those years you slept there?”
    He swallowed, looking at it without joy. “Are we going to be frozen again?”
    “Not right away, no, not you; that’s why yours is on the bottom. But before long, I think. This one here, this is for the Stockbridges; they go back in about three days, I think.”
    “In three days?”
    She sighed. “It is my hearing that should be weakening, not yours. Can’t you understand me? The emergency is over, they say, so the extra people can be corpsicles again.” She looked at him, then softened. “Ah, are you worrying?”
    “You told me to worry!”
    She smiled, then apologized. “If I am frightened, that is my business. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’ve already been frozen once, and survived. Was it so bad?”
    “I don’t remember,” Viktor said truthfully. All he remembered was being given a tiny shot that caused him to fall asleep, with the freezer technicians hovering reassuringly around him; and then waking up again. Whatever had happened in between had happened without his consciousness present to observe.
    He worked silently with ancient Wanda Mei for a while, doing as he was told but thinking about Marie-Claude going back into the freezer. A thought had occurred to him. He would, he calculated, be sure to gain at least a few days on her by staying unfrozen longer than she. If only there were some way of prolonging that time— If he could stay thawed and living on the ship until it landed— Why, then he would be almost her own age, even old enough to be taken seriously by her!
    That thought, however, still left the problem of her husband unsolved. “Hell,” he said, softly but aloud, and Wanda looked at him.
    “You’re tired,” she said, which wasn’t true, “and you’re cold—” which certainly was. “Well, we’ve done enough; thank you for your help, Viktor.” And then, back in the warm part of the ship, she thought for a moment and then said: “Do you like books, Viktor? I have some in my room.”
    “There are plenty of books in the library,” he pointed out.
    “These are my books. Kid’s books,” she amplified. “From when I was your age. I’ve just kept them. You can borrow them if you want.”
    “Maybe some time,” Viktor said vaguely.
    She looked cross. “Why not this time? Come on, you haven’t seen my room.”
    Indeed he hadn’t. Actually, he didn’t much want to now. There wasn’t any real reason for that, only the kind of queasy, uneasy feeling that Wanda gave him. It wasn’t just that she was old. He’d seen plenty of old people—well, not usually as old as Wanda, of course; but for a twelve-year-old anyone past thirty is pretty much in the same general age cohort anyway. Wanda was different. She was both old and his own age, and seeing her reminded Viktor, in terms he could not ignore, that one day he, too, would have wrinkles and age spots on the backs of his hands and graying hair. She was his future displayed for him, and unwelcome. It shattered his child’s confidence that he would remain a child.
    He entered Wanda’s room diffidently. It smelled terrible. He saw that it wasn’t in any way like the one Viktor shared with his parents. It had started out identical, of course—every room on the ship was basically the same standard cubicle, since each one would become a separate landing pod when the colonists arrived at