A 30 Year Nap: Part 2

Continued from [Part 1, see tags below]

Upon awakening, Alexander Winton had a renewed determination to reach his goal: to travel 30 years into the future by means of 
suspended animation in a medically induced coma. Aware that most physicians would hesitate at the idea, he thoughtfully waded into 
the waiting files of potential anesthesiologists organized by his staff. Perusing each profile, he mentally filtered them for a 
physician who seemed adventurous, willing to push the envelope, no, willing to burn the envelope with a match and a generous dose 
of lighter fluid.

Dr. Rajesh Singh was not just any anesthesiologist; his credentials were as impressive as they were unique. Educated at one of 
India’s premier institutions, he had moved to the United States to pursue his passion for managing complex cases, those that other 
doctors in his position would refuse: the elderly, infants and children, multiple transplants, and even patients in the midst of 
organ failure. Over the years, Dr. Singh had carved a niche for himself in experimental anesthesiology, often rising 
controversially to the forefront of cutting-edge research. His publications were routinely refused by top medical journals and his 
frequent lectures at medical conferences often concluded in heated arguments over the Hippocratic Oath and whether he was truly 
doing no harm.

This reputation was perfect, Alexander thought. He arranged to meet Dr. Singh at “Le Mystère,” a high-end San Francisco restaurant 
known for its privacy and exquisite cuisine, an ideal location for the confidential nature of their discussion.
The day of the meeting, Alexander was prompt, as was his habit. He was pleased to see Dr. Singh had arrived early; the confident 
fellow was gesturing with broad movements, speaking casually with the maître d’.

“Dr. Singh, I presume?” Alexander bubbled.

“Yes, hello Mr. Winton. I was just talking about what a wonderful place this is. Great choice!”

They were seated in a dimly lit corner of the restaurant, surrounded by hushed tones and the soft clinks of fine dining. Like an 
architect unrolling his blueprints, Alexander laid out his vision with a mix of cautious excitement and trepidation.
Dr. Singh, a man in his mid-fifties with a distinguished air, listened intently. His eyes, sharp and discerning, occasionally 
flickered with curiosity beneath his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair. He adjusted his glasses as the waiter presented a bottle 
of Hermitage La Chapelle, the 1990 vintage, which Alexander had ordered to complement the restaurant’s sophistication and 
exclusivity.

After several gulps of wine, Dr. Singh pronounced, “Mr. Winton, I must admit, your proposal sounds like something straight out of 
a H.G. Wells novel. Fascinating idea.” He swirled the wine in his glass. Now turning to his host with a more serious tone, “But 
also riddled with complexities and uncertainties.”

Alexander leaned forward, his enthusiasm undiminished. “Dr. Singh, I’m aware it sounds outlandish, but with your expertise in 
experimental procedures, I believe we can navigate these complexities.”

Dr. Singh raised an eyebrow, setting down his wine glass. “Navigate, you say? Mr. Winton, we’re not talking about a simple detour. 

This is uncharted territory. The human body is not designed for prolonged artificial hibernation. The risks involved — from muscle 
atrophy to cognitive decline — are immense. But it truly is a novel thought.”

After a brief silence, Dr. Singh mused, “Have you ever had anesthesia? It’s a brilliant nap,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. 
There was that word again. Continuing the conversation he said, “Thirty years into the future, you say?”

“Yes, isn’t the field of medicine about pushing boundaries — exploring the unknown?” Alexander pressed, his gaze intense.
Dr. Singh leaned back, folding his hands. “Quite the opposite. Medicine generally embraces the tried and true. We call it 
“evidence-based practice.” This is the stance that my procedures often conflict with. There is no evidence to base practice on 
without experiments. This is undoubtedly why you contacted me rather than Dr. Spenser down the road,” he chuckled. “But — there’s 
a fine line between exploration and recklessness, Mr. Winton. Yes, we push boundaries, to treat disease and ameliorate the human 
condition. But this proposal is more like anesthetic tourism.”

The meal began with an amuse-bouche, a delicate spoon of tuna tartare with a a shaving of white truffle and a single grain of sea 
salt. 

“Serveur,” Alexander beckoned one of the several waiters tending to them, “How about a bottle of Château Latour, I think you 
know the one I like.”

“Yes sir, the 2000,” the waiter boasted.

“Right before the dot-com crash,” Alexander smiled. He had sold a company that very year, at the peak of the market.

The waiter scurried away, returning with the vintage promptly, handing the cork to Alexander for inspection.

“Think about it, Dr. Singh,” Alexander urged, twirling the cork in his hand. “It’s not just about overcoming the medical 
challenges. This is improving my human condition. With all of my wealth and experiences, the present has lost its pizazz. I have 
witnessed bleeding-edge technology firsthand, but the pace of development isn’t fast enough for me. I’m ready for more.”
Dr. Singh paused, studying the wine in his glass, contemplating. “Mr. Winton, while the romanticism of your idea is captivating, 
the practicalities are far from romantic. Traveling into the future, as you put it, is not like taking a long flight to an exotic 
destination. The world you’d wake up to would be drastically different. You’d be disconnected from everything and everyone you 
know.”

Foie Gras Terrine was then delivered to the table, served with a fig compote and a slice of toasted brioche. Alexander ignored the 
dish, undeterred. “But isn’t that the point, Dr. Singh? To leap beyond the constraints of our time? To be a pioneer in a new 
world? That’s what my whole life has been about. But now, making my present tenable is what I am trying to achieve.” 

The doctor sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips at Alexander’s unbridled enthusiasm. “Hmmm… your human condition. I am 
not   psychiatrist, so improving a person’s present is really not in my experience. I put people to sleep, then flirt with their 
vital signs while they slumber.”

“Temporary escape is my tool, but we are now talking about long-term escapism. Our lives, our learning, they’re rooted in the 
progression of time, in the experiences we accumulate day by day.” As Dr. Singh spoke, hearing his own words reminded him of his 
colleagues who practiced the excessive caution he despised. “By skipping thirty years, you’re not just traveling to the future; 
you’re forfeiting a part of your life, a part of what makes you, you.”

Alexander straightened, “I see it as a necessary sacrifice.”

The chef arrived as main dish was served, announcing, “Coq au Vin — chicken braised with wine, lardons, and garlic, accompanied by 
sautéed greens with a beurre blanc sauce.” Alexander appeared to be annoyed by the interruption.

“To see thirty years in the future really would be something, wouldn’t it?” Dr. Singh speculated, the powerful Bordeaux beginning 
to manifest its character. “Holograms, robots, and — sex robots and holograms!” Once again hearing himself, Dr. Singh leaned 
forward, holding his wine glass with index finger extended somewhat crookedly toward Alexander, “But you know, human evolution 
happens as live out our days. If you skip to the last page of the book, you lose the essence of the narrative.”
“If it were me,” Dr. Singh began, a reflective note in his voice, “I could not imagine leaving my wife and children. My daughter 
just started high school, and when she actually wants to spend time with me, every one of those moments is precious.”

Alexander listened, then spoke, “I totally get it, Dr. Singh. I never took the path of marriage and family. My life’s always been 
about my work, my vision. I suppose I’ve always feared that personal commitments would distract me from my goals. But I have 
different precious moments I want to enjoy. The present has really become quite boring. My legacy has already been created, my 
companies have now taken on lives of their own. Now it’s time to jettison into something new.”

Dr. Singh nodded understandingly. “Life is about balance, Mr. Winton. Having a family, forming those bonds — they don’t detract 
from our ambitions. If anything, they add a layer of meaning and purpose.”

Alexander shifted in his seat, mulling over Dr. Singh’s words, looking dreamily into his glass of wine. “I suppose I’ve always 
viewed time differently. For me, the future has always held more allure than the present. It’s why this project, this journey, 
means so much to me. I want to be a part of that future, even if it means sacrificing the present.”

Dr. Singh looked thoughtful. “You know, a legacy is more than just the achievements we leave behind. It’s also about the 
connections we make, the lives we touch. I’m not encouraging marriage, no, no, no — if anything marriage is a mistake for most 
men. But, whether you realize it or not, your human connections in this world are just as impactful as your technological wonders, 
maybe even moreso.”

As the waiter placed dessert in front of him, a dark chocolate Crème Brûlée, Alexander tapped at its surface gently, pondering his 
limited human connections. His staff, his driver, maids, and sometimes the gardeners. Each relationship had the pleasant 
superficiality of the bland life he was now trying to escape.

“Speaking of children, I should be going home soon,” Dr. Singh said. “My son just had his school science fair this evening. We 
were up all night working on it and I really must hear about how it went.”

Just as Dr. Singh stood up to leave, a sudden commotion at the entrance of the restaurant caught everyone’s attention. The maître 
d’ was hurriedly escorting a family to a table near where Alexander and Dr. Singh were seated. To Dr. Singh’s surprise and 
delight, it was his own family — his wife Anita and their two children, Aarav and Priya.

“Rajesh!” Anita called out, a bright smile on her face. “We thought we’d surprise you! Aarav just won first place for his science 
fair project, so we decided to come celebrate with you!”

Dr. Singh, taken aback and overjoyed, quickly introduced his family to Alexander. “This is Mr. Alexander Winton, a… colleague of 
mine. And this is my family, the joy of my life. You see, son, hard work does have its rewards.”

Alexander, who had been immersed in the depths of their philosophical discussion, was suddenly pulled into a warm, lively family 
scene. He shook hands with Anita, who had a kind, welcoming demeanor. Alexander then high-fived Aarav, the budding young 
scientist, while Priya, a bit shy, smiled and nodded from behind her mother.

“Rajesh, you have been drinking. I can hear it in your voice.” Anita observed.
 
“We have had some very fine wines, Anita.” Dr. Singh, now in a more jovial mood, turned to Alexander. “Well, Mr. Winton, I believe
the universe has its own way of punctuating our discussions. I think I’ll stay and enjoy dessert with my family. Will you join us?

Alexander hesitated for a moment, Mrs. Singh appeared less-than-pleased that the two men had polished off two bottles of wine, 
regardless of the vintage. The thought of joining an awkward family dinner was not in his plans, but the warmth from Dr. Singh’s 
family did have some appeal. “Thank you, Dr. Singh, but I should be on my way,” Alexander replied apologetically.

Walking outside to meet his driver, Alexander’s mind replayed images of the smiles from Dr. Singh’s family seeing one another in 
celebration — it was a poignant reminder of what he had missed in his own life. His own accomplishments were reflected in his bank 
account, but few people were there to cheer for him. As his driver pulled up, he reflected on how most of the people in his life 
were paid to be in attendance.

The drive home was quiet, with city lights blurring past him as stared out the window, lost in thought. His usually clear, focused 
mind was now clouded with introspection. The joy and simplicity of Dr. Singh’s family life stood in stark contrast to his own 
solitary existence. Was he missing some fundamental human experience, one that perhaps presented a new challenge in itself? If so, 
it felt generally unappealing.

Upon arriving home, Alexander’s spacious house felt more empty than usual. The echoing halls and the immaculate, untouched spaces 
spoke of a life lived in the fast lane, with little time or inclination for the warmth of a family home. He wandered from one room 
to the next, each filled with the hi-fi audio equipment and expensive art, yet they lacked the personal, lived-in feel of Dr. 
Singh’s world.

Settling into his Eames lounge chair, Alexander gazed out of the large window, overlooking the city he had helped shape. The stars 
above seemed to twinkle with a hint of mischief, as if mocking his sudden existential dilemma. For the first time in a long while, 
he felt a disconnect between his ambitions and his emotional state. He felt overcome by a sense of needing to cry, a foreign 
feeling; and he refused to relent.

Uncomfortable with these emotions, he sprang up to prepare for bed, redirecting his thoughts toward his achievements and his 
singular goal of seeing the future. This obsession that had felt obvious was now fraught with complexities of a different kind, 
not just scientific or ethical, but now too deeply personal. Completing his nighttime routine, he nestled once again into his 
luxurious cocoon and took a break from his racing thoughts, allowing himself to drift off to sleep.


tags: A-30-Year-Nap, short-story