Julian West was a cryo. Most early cryos who were unfrozen never regained consciousness (and were promptly put down whenever their condition was deemed irreparable), but Julian was one of the few successes. Aside from rather frequent visits to doctors to deal with a minor medical complication, he was fairly self-sufficient and completely lucid.
Prior to his then-incurable illness, Julian had been a Congressman. He had had considerable wealth, as well as an odd feeling of destiny, all of which led him to check into the cryogenic repository nearly 140 years ago. His unfreezing was funded by an obscure foundation, and an agreeable counselor named Edith Rossini was in charge of his psychological adjustment and general orientation.
As usual, Julian was a fountain of questions. “So, the Socialists sound like my Democrats, and the Libertarians are like my Republicans... yeah?”
“Political history isn’t my strongest suit,” Edith said with an exaggerated look of regret. “But that seems about right.”
“And then the Globalist Party, I don’t know where to fit that in. Maybe it combines the ‘elite’ wings of Democrat and Republican?”
“That doesn’t seem quite right. But I’d highly, highly recommend using Know The System, it’ll get you up to speed quickly.”
Julian considered this. “But isn’t Know The System optimized for people of this era, now?”
Edith nodded, and said, “Yes, certainly. And certainly you’re a pretty unique user, but I’m told that they’ve customized your profile. Should work fine. And I’m on call for you – anytime something doesn’t make sense, just ask.”
Julian mulled this over. He knew that his awakening had generated a large amount of interest. But what was the agenda? Why all the attention from Senator Florez? He felt a deep shot of anxiety, though he recalled Edith’s earlier assurance that, in a situation like his, it would be natural to experience all sorts of strange emotions.
With attempted delicacy he asked, “Who is funding this? I mean, me, all of this?”
Edith replied, “I’m sorry if you don’t remember: I’m not able to say. I don’t even really know for sure, but I’m under orders to not even speculate for you. You’d have to talk to the Director—Philippe—about it... sorry.”
“And he’s not going to tell me much, either?”
Edith smiled and shrugged. “Don’t know.”
Julian assumed (or, remembered?) that all of his activity was being monitored and recorded.