#tryingthingsout

“You’re waking up. Try to stay calm.”

Why should I stay calm? thought Dunlop Grace. I’m a billionaire. I’m untouchable. He opened his eyes. Or, tried to. Dunlop took a deep breath. Or, tried to. “What the hell is happening?” He demanded – it came out a wheeze, but Dunlop was pretty sure the incompetent taking care of his decryonization understood his tone. They better, for the price this trip had cost.

At least there weren’t any regulations here. He could sue this idiot for everything he was worth under “good faith” corporate courts that always answered to the highest bidder, and there was no way some podunk icebox manager made more than Dunlop Grace.

“Can you confirm your pronouns, Dunlop?” The doctor asked.

“MALE WHEN I’M PISSED FEMALE WHEN I WANT PEOPLE DEAD.” Dunlop hissed at maximum volume. It didn’t sound very loud, but he meant it.

“Those aren’t pronouns, but it’s a start. The year is 2521. You’ve been frozen for forty-three years.”

“I’m late.” Dunlop groaned. So many investments would be mismanaged by this point. Who knew where his stocks were right now. He needed a trade update, not triage.

“No one’s late to life, Executive Grace.”

“Let me open my eyes and stop coddling me like a child. I’m losing money sitting on my ass.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tape pulled away. Dunlop opened his eyes. A mirror faced him, body-length and unblemished. The body reflected in it was blue. Dark blue, with long ears that thinned to shadows above midnight-black hair. A face that had once been shovel-shaped and brutish was now sharp as a spearpoint.

“What in Hark’s name happened to me?”

“From our current understanding, you’re an elf.”

Dunlop stared at the façade facing him. His skin was extremely smooth.

“I do have the ears… Do I have immortality?”

“Bullets still hurt, but you do age slower. Seems the ghosts are more a danger to you than old age.”

“…”

“Let’s get you to orientation.”

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