Collective Cryo Dream

The broke and poor were stuffed into cryosleep

their bodies stored segmented on freezer floors.

 

Only clumps of vitrified cells to the ruling class,

blood swapped for antifreeze, dreams detached.

 

Adult humans awoken as convenient labor, flesh

always cheaper than spawning construction bots.

 

Thawed out in 400-year labor cycles, humans are 

recycled as cheap work and then deposited back

 

without wage, only chances to see futures made

by them, not for, raising edifices they can’t need.

 

Families are defunct. Mother and son never held

together out of sleep prevents added distractions 

 

and any bond forming except one between bricks.

There is no communication out into the universe,

 

years meaningless—6763 or 2079 both identical.

Social progress turned illusion when the wealthy

 

altered into immortal effigies of endless appetites.

The only slog forward came from awakened fury

 

of those repeatedly roused from suspended death.

But revolt is easy to stifle when life is abbreviated,

 

clandestine plots opposing cryo guns and ice filling

cells until sealed and subdued to be awoken in 400.

 

The workers rise each reset to no innovation, only

hollow buildings with no one left to haunt any halls.

 

The ruling class constructs measureless shell cities

to one-up a fading population with empty prestige.

 

Inequal immortality breeds cynicism and resilience

bristling deep-coded in frozen and defrosted cells. 

 

Someone sneaks in an infinitesimal system error,

every cryopod cycle accruing a minute sabotage

 

slowly modifying to let sleeping minds connect,

dream as one shared transmitted consciousness. 

 

But revolution still remains 10,000 years distant

because hope, we find, takes the longest to build.

Casey Aimer holds master’s degrees in both poetry and publishing and works for a non-profit publishing science research articles. He is co-founder of Radon Journal, an anarchist science fiction publisher. His work has been featured in Star*Line, Ars Medica, The Fictional Café, and he is a Pushcart Prize nominated poet. An active SFPA member, he was a 2023 Rhysling Award juror.

 

Photo by NASA on Unsplash

Recommended Posts