Marcus leaned back on the padded couch. He was in his shrink’s office, modestly sized and soundproofed for the privacy of her patients. Books ranging from the simple paperback to thick padded books and leather and iron-bound tomes filled the shelves lining the walls. If found genuine, the collection should fetch a lot of money but still gave off a cozy atmosphere even if they are found fake. For a second, Marcus wondered about the conversations that happened inside these walls and if they were in any way relatable to his reasons for being here.

“So, how was your week?” Ylena asked. She sat leaned back on her recliner, legs crossed in front of Marcus. She wore an office skirt and a well-fitted blazer, both colored in a dark gray with hints of a checkered pattern. On her left hand was a datapad and a stylus on her right, ready to take down notes as soon as she deems fit.

Marcus took his gaze away from the shelves, then towards the doctor. She was young. Marcus guessed her age to be in her mid to late twenties, which is an accomplishment, given that she already had her own practice and an office. He then shrugged, recalling what he had been busying himself since he got discharged from the hospital. “Good, I think. I’ve been working out. Just finished settling into my apartment. Paperwork is done finally, thank god. Still in massive debt. Still expecting to look outside the window to see a blue sky instead of dusty red. But other than that, I think it’s been pretty good.”

The doctor’s gaze panned over Marcus as she scrutinized what should be under his three-striped black tracksuit. Fortunately, hundreds of years failed to make much of a departure in what was functional and fashionable. Cementing his theory that those creatures working in high fashion were actually aliens failing to understand what a real human being would consider a good outfit.

“I could see that going to the gym had been paying well for you. You’ve gained weight since last week.” She said.

Marcus shrugged again and leaned further back, the couch padding pressed against his sore muscles. It felt good. ‘He should try finding a massage parlor after the session,’ he thought to himself, ‘or at least it’s equivalent of it.’ Thinking further, he decided otherwise, not like he had money to burn. “Yeah, been working on getting some muscle wrapped around these sticks I have for limbs. Been running too. I couldn’t get up a flight of stairs without catching my breath at first, but its getting better. Buying meat was the hard part. The meal replacements do the job well enough, but taste weird. Probably what soylent green would taste if it ever was real.”

“Soylent green?” she asked, tilting her head in genuine curiosity.

“It’s a reference to a movie, back then. It’s not important.” He replied, waving her off.

“I see. Do you miss it? Back then?” She asked, adding an emphasis on the words ‘back then’ with a tilt of her head.

Marcus frowned for a second. He should be as open as he could with her, considering that the doctor could catch him on a lie, and therefore get a bad mark on his evaluation. He wouldn’t want that. “Been thinking about it, but its like just thinking about your childhood, you know. Like, I’m missing home. Sure, I fully expect to never see them again at some point given my condition back then, but. It’s weird, it’s like homesickness with me being this far away, but the only difference is that you can’t call anyone and tell them how you miss them. You know.”

“I’m sure it will pass, giving time is part of the healing process.” She said.

“Yeah,” Marcus nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure it will.”

Silence settled as Marcus contented himself on simply looking at the floor, chewing the inside of his mouth as he spent the time deep in thought. Ylena let him, watching her patient.

“Tell me about the party thrown by your family.” Ylena broke the silence after a minute had passed.

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. “Relatives. They’re there. Still couldn’t remember a fraction of their names given of how many they were back at that time. It’s weird. It’s like, I was the stranger at the party dedicated to me. I don’t know them, but they sure know me. They’re technically my great-great-grandchildren and it’s the same closeness you could get between generations.” He paused. “Don’t know if they still exist, but have you ever been to the zoo?”

“On earth, yes.” She replied.

“It’s like that. But instead of a reinforced glass keeping between you and them, it’s time. I’m their great great great great uncle, wooo...” He said, waving his hand, “It’s like what? Around two hundred fifty years?” He sighed, absentmindedly plucking a pack from his jacket pocket and plucking a cigarette between his lips. “Might as well be a zoo exhibit to them.” He said, looking up and caught himself, “Oh, do you mind?”

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“Go ahead, but please direct the smoke to the vents.” She said, pointing over to Marcus’ right. “And make sure none of the ash gets to the furniture.”

“Thanks,” He said, pulling out a shiny metal canister and popped it open, revealing a portable ashtray. “And also for hooking me up with a prescription for this. It calms me down more than you think. You can count that on one of the many things I find dumb in this time.” He said, then chuckled. “Well, maybe not that dumb, but you should see the look people send to me the first time I pulled one of these out.”

“Do they bother you?” Ylena asked, almost pouncing with the question.

Marcus took another drag, blowing a stream of smoke to his right where the doctor pointed. “Not really. I mean, I understand. Every breath of air we got here is filtered, and someone smoking in the open is like someone pissing on the watering hole. Its disrespectful, not personally, but societally or something like that. Well, as for you and me, I’m going to have to abuse that patient-doctor exclusivity thing and just do it right here. I hope you won’t judge.”

“I won’t.” She replied, scribbling something in her notes, but her tone slipping through her veneer of professionalism told Marcus the opposite. He chuckled, watching as his shrink wrote notes on his datapad with a stylus.

The two fell into silence again as Marcus contented himself on inhaling smoke while the doctor went on to taking notes, despite the session being wholly recorded for later review.

“Do you have anything, in particular, you want to talk about?”

Marcus sighed. “I guess better to get this out. Don’t know how much information you have on me, but I’m screwed. I’m deep in debt from getting my brain wirings fixed. I got no job. My qualifications and industry knowledge have long been obsolete, and if I go the manual labor route, anything I could do, a machine could already do better. Sure, my trust had taken a good chunk off the debt but it still wasn’t enough, if it wasn’t for the government social security system, I would already be in the streets, or the case here in Mars, on the corridors begging for every person passing by for any spare change.”

“I see.” She said, scribbling even more. “Would you like assistance in finding a job?”

“If you could hook me up with one, then I won’t say no.”

She nodded. “Moving on. Do you have anything to be grateful for?”

“I’m still alive.”

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“This is technically a second life for me. My first ended the moment I got into that cryo chamber and turned into a popsicle. My second began when I got cured. Not many people get to have that chance, so even though I’m in deep shit, I still find myself thinking that I am very lucky for the chance.”

“I am happy to hear that. Have you been making friends?” She said, noting a short scribble on her pad.

“Not yet.” Marcus grinned. “But I’m thinking of getting one of those reality pods, maybe get some friends that way. Back then, those things were just science fiction, now I could just buy it off the store.” He chuckled. “Would be a nice chunk off my cash and it would likely be my last splurge for a long while, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything else either. Maybe I could take my chance at making money playing games. I hear they’re treated like athletes now, unlike back in my time where they’re only considered as entertainers. That, or maybe I could write a book with my time, a first-hand account of someone living two hundred and fifty years in the past and all the bullshit that happened back then. You think someone’s interested in reading the thoughts of just another two hundred and fifty-plus-year-old man?”

“I’m sure someone would find it interesting.” She replied noncommittally. Marcus bitterly laughed at that. He knew there was no chance. She smiled just as an alarm beeped, indicating the end of their session. “On your last note, I support that you should try virtual reality. I hear that they could be really fun. And as you say, could be a source of income.”

“Right, I guess I’m off then. See you next week.” Marcus said as he stood up and they shook hands.