17

At 17, Edgar Redfield had no memory of his previous life. Edgar was a clone and his predecessor died a century earlier.

Although he’d read notebooks written by the original Redfield, that dead 20th century man seemed a stranger. The current Edgar had adoptive parents nothing like the wealthy born original. And the clone lived in a different part of the country in a very different world. Only one thing persisted: even in the mid 21st century, doctors could not re-animate a frozen dead man.

The unlucky original died of cancer in the mid 1960s. He planned for a new life, assuming his cancer-ravaged body would be better replaced by a future mechanical one. Saving money and space, he’d had only his head frozen. It might take time, but what’s time when you’re dead? He felt certain he’d come back.

Things didn’t turn out as planned. Western Cryonics Ltd. was sued and bankrupted. Relatives of most of the deceased were unhappy that their inheritance was tied up in a fund dedicated to preserving the cold remains of their dearly departed. Ultimately, the descendants offed them. Bodies and heads were unfrozen and turned over to the winners. Uncomfortably, the winners collected solid flesh with their money.

Angela Redfield was 19 when she scraped off a bit of great grandpa’s chin, putting the tiny bit of flesh into an ice cube tray in her small fridge in the dormitory. When they buried the head, they just assumed Redfield had cut himself shaving prior to his freezing. Whatever. Angela was upset when one of her roommates accidentally used that ice tray during a party. Fortunately, the important cube was undisturbed.

Angela left the ice tray and its contents to her son Jim. And Jim turned it over to a 21st century cloning lab before he died.

And so eventually, pretty much for practice, Edgar Redfield was cloned and he (or a genetic facsimile) reappeared finally in the 21st century. Raised by a couple who worked at the lab, the adoptive parents of young Edgar kept nothing from him. He was given the notebooks of his predecessor, and knew from an early age that he was a clone. This occurrence wasn’t an uncommon one. But that Redfield was cloned from a failed 20th century cryonic attempt was unique.

Young Edgar made his own fortune. It turns out, he was personable and talented. Handsome, tall and a good performer, he became a holographic-movie star. A sought after bachelor, women pursued him—as did scam artists seeking a piece of his fortune. A team of well-paid lawyers and guards protected Edgar from stalkers and scammers.

He lived a charmed life. Until cancer struck. Sadly but unsurprisingly, he shared the genetic curse of the first Edgar.

As he weakened, Edgar considered his options. In the mid 2060s, scientists still couldn’t bring back a frozen corpse. But they could freeze him better, doing less damage and leaving open the possibility that a century or so later, a frozen corpse could be brought back.

Edgar dedicated his fortune to that. He died peacefully, with little pain or fear. Strangely, at the end, the life that flashed before his eyes was that of the first Edgar.

The obituary got even more attention for Edgar than did his illustrious life. Among the readers were several descendants of relatives who sued the first Edgar. Together, they filed a new class action suit.