Sleeping Beauty (An original science fiction short story)

"Damn, that headache!" Chris Clark squinted from fluorescent light.
He got into a fight yesterday while drinking in a bar near the spaceport. Nature endowed Chris with a quick reaction, and in a one-on-one skirmish, he, as a rule, could strike first. However, yesterday's fight soon turned into a general brawl; someone hit him from behind and broke the bottle on his head. Chris woke up already in an ambulance with a moderate concussion.

Now, lying in a hospital bed, he thought about why he got involved in this fight and, in general, about a life that was not evolving quite the way he wanted.
All and all, it wasn't that bad. Chris secured an excellent job as a mechanic at the Mars spaceport, where he manages a couple of hundred robots. A certain contingent of girls found him attractive. Usually in a bar after a couple of glasses, listening to the tragic story of their lives, he expressed his sympathy to them; and then brought them to his place, delighting them with the observation that nature rewarded in addition to a quick reaction him with additional virtues.
Yet, while he could still intrigue a young girl in his thirties, he wanted more. All his friends were already married, some of them more than once. Chris felt that he was losing contact with them.

He felt more inclined to something calmer and more permanent. Yet, although knowing Chris didn't want "bar regulars," he didn't exactly know what he wanted.

Chris got out of bed, wandered around the hospital, and looked into the wards with nothing to do. In one of them, he saw a sleeping girl, about twenty-five years old. Disheveled red hair framed her head, against which a bluish-pale face with symmetrical features and clear skin stood out. There was a vague feeling of melancholy on her face. Chris even felt a tickle in his throat. "Here she is. I want something like that, for me," he thought.
Approaching the nurses’ station, he asked the nurse on duty about the girl.

“Ah, the one from the fourth room? She has been in a coma for two months already. We call her Sleeping Beauty.”
The girl indeed corresponded to the image that Chris formed in his childhood upon acquaintance with this fairy tale.

“What happened to her?”

"The paramedics brought her here already unconscious."

"And… can't you do something?"

"Not yet," the nurse shrugged and stared at the computer again.

"How come? It seems modern medicine can even replace organs, yet it cannot bring a person out of a coma. Or is it too expensive?"

"She is not in just coma," the nurse uttered a long medical phrase denoting the diagnosis of the disease, "she needs a donor of vital energy."

She covered her mouth with her hand and chuckled.

"Unhappy love."

"Stupid," flashed through Chris's mind addressing the nurse. "It's amazing what a depth of feeling this girl has! A real

Sleeping Beauty!"

***

"Young man, are healing like a dog," the gray-haired doctor looked through the results of the tests, "for the first time in my practice, I meet such a quick recovery. How are you feeling?"

"Good," a smile stretched Chris' lips, revealing the lines around his mouth.

The doctor shook his head in satisfaction.

"All right, then. I'm going to let you go home. And, of course, you should refrain from alcohol for two weeks and in general ..." the doctor looked at Chris's slim figure, "refrain from the VERY ACTIVE lifestyle that brought you to our facility. Questions?"

“Doctor, here in your hospital, have a girl in a coma. I heard she needs a donor.”

“Yes. Exactly. Sad story. Such donors are hard to find, really hard to find. Do you have someone in mind?”

“I thought of myself.”

“Hmm... Do you understand the risks involved? You see, energy is not an organ that one can replace. It is YOUR life energy, and if you draw from it, you cannot replenish it later. You can forget about such a speedy recovery. Are you getting my drift?”

“I understand, doctor. However…” Chris lowered his head and noticed that the tiled floor in the room was a dirty yellow.
During his stay in the hospital, Sleeping Beauty's room drew him in, and his thoughts carried him away in the direction of the do-gooding and selflessness. One wouldn’t even be able to call them thoughts – pure flotation as if someone else's took control of his emotions.

Narrowing his eyes, the doctor looked at Chris and grinned knowingly, with warm sadness.

"Oh, youth - a gift of nature... Well then. Since you've made up your mind, let's schedule the procedure in two weeks. I want you to be in the best shape."

***

A technician laid Chris and the girl in adjacent beds and attached complex aggregates similar to artificial octopuses to their heads. While doctors and assistants exchanged abstruse combinations of sounds, Chris thought about the girl. He longed terribly to absorb her first glance.

It was all over in fifteen minutes. The technician removed the equipment, but the girl continued to lie with her eyes closed.

“Well?” Chris asked the surgeon.

“We siphoned off fifty milliwatts of power from you.”

“When will she wake up?”

“Let’s wait and see.”

“How come?”

The doctor shrugged.

“No one knows when,” he grinned, “AND IF. This procedure does not have a 100% guarantee of success. Didn’t you read the small print when you signed the papers?”

Chris nodded.

“I tell you what. Leave your phone number. If anything, we’ll call you.”

***

After the procedure, Chris did not feel much change in himself. It seemed that part of the usual joy and recklessness left the body, and as if someone pumped in an excessive portion of irritability instead. So Chris began to avoid friends.

Sixteen days later, the hospital called and said that the patient he was interested in, Miss Lauren Stone, had come to her senses and wanted to see him.

***

Chris came over with a large bouquet, which best symbolized recovery from his point of view. When he stuck his head into the room, the girl watched TV, leaning on the pillow with her hair tidied up. She turned her face toward Chris and smiled widely and happily, immediately realizing that this was her savior.

Her eyes were radiant and bright, just the way Chris thought the eyes of "Sleeping Beauty" an awoken from a dream should be.

"Are you Chris, right? Come closer," she held out her hand to him. Chris realized that the girl also asked what his name was and nodded.

"Thank you!" she pointed to the flowers, "put them in that vase. I'll pour water myself."

"How are you feeling?"

"Still weak. Nauseous and am having high temperature. Yet, I'm not complaining. Regardless of how I feel, it's a much better alternative," the girl continued to look at Chris attentively, "I would prefer to meet you under other circumstances," she glanced around the ward.

"Yes, sure. I just wanted to check on you and see how you're doing."

"Well, yes, only ..." Lauren turned her head to the flowers and grinned, "sure, let's do it. I'll call you myself, and we'll meet somewhere outside the hospital walls."

"Yes, of course. Then, I'll see you when you are fully recovered, all right?"

***

Chris arrived before six. He loved this bar. The brown lacquering of the rack and the stack of bottles of all sizes and colors had a reassuring effect. Soft music was playing in the semi-darkness, and muffled conversations sounded from different bar parts in several unfamiliar languages. In this linguistic oblivion floated a sense of the romantic, as if absorbing triviality of its content.

Lauren entered the bar, looked around, and sat down in a half-turn to Chris on a chair at the bar with a somewhat tense smile.

"What should I order you?" Chris's face glowed with the expectation of something beautiful.

Lauren didn't answer but beckoned to the bartender and asked for a glass of orange juice.
Judging by this choice, Chris figured that the story of the unfortunate fate would not follow.
After taking a sip, Lauren sat looking down for a couple of moments. As if making an effort, she looked up at Chris and smiled. Chris was immensely enjoying just being able to look at her closely. Slightly highlighted eyes and lips accentuated the purity of her skin.

“Chris…” she finally said. “I’d like to express my gratitude for that “immeasurable,” she said, emphasizing this word, “yes, I am not afraid of this word, the unprecedented sacrifice you’ve made. Without your intervention and goodwill, I would have been lying lifeless in a hospital bed for a long time, and who knows whether I would have gotten up from it.”

Seeing that Chris was about to protest, she put her hand on his.

"You are a very good person, Chris, a wonderful person! Not everyone would do such a thing. No, no. Do not object," she touched his hand, "what you have done noble, and I am touched and grateful to the depths of my soul. But…" Laurent took a deep breath. – "But..."

She lowered her eyes and then raised them quickly, and Chris saw their tension.

"But at the same time, I understand that you wouldn't do that for anyone. I don't know why you have a special kindness for me. Although, wait. I didn't express myself correctly. So why play a cat and mouse game. I know why. I'm not a fool, and I understand that nothing happens just like that. That I am indebted and ..."

Cars drive by outside the window, and Chris heard the rain starting drumming on the glass.

“I see that you like me, and maybe more than just like. And,” she squeezed his hand again, forestalling objections, “You are a very good person. Wonderful person. But, you see?”

She sighed heavily again, her eyes sparkling with tears.

Chris was silent.

"You are a very attractive man," it seemed to Chris that she tried justifying this thought to herself, "I notice how other women look at you. But, you see, I like men of a different type."

It was evident that she wanted to explain more but stopped herself.

"And… Even if we" Loran looked at him point-blank, "Well, you see... It won't change anything in my feelings towards you. Trust me; it hurts a lot to refuse you like that. I am not a pig. And if you. Then I know I have to thank you."

"Who do you take me for?" Chris finally interrupted her rather rudely, "do you really think that I will take advantage of this situation? You don't owe me anything. Hey, love whomever you want. I don't have any problem scoring!" he grinned, although feeling empty inside, "only one thing ..." he said with mock cheer, "Can I kiss you? Just once?"
Her eyes shone with relief. She laughed, "Oh, yes! How can I refuse the prince in a chance to wake up Sleeping Beauty?"
"Great. Hold that thought. I'll disappear for a second," he winked, "don't go anywhere. I'll be right back!"

***

Chris Clark took off his SVK-4765 - "sleep helmet," as people commonly called it, went down from the top bunk bed and pulled off the same helmet from the head of Adam Haydon, who was lying on the bottom bunk bed.

"What the heck?" Adam's pimply teenage face twitched, "you woke me up at the most interesting point. The wedding ceremony with Cinderella was over, we were in the bedroom with her, and I was already taking off her wedding dress!"

"Shut up!" Chris kicked Adam, "you fucking geek!"

"What the fuck are you doing? It's not a fucking dream! It hurts!"

"Shut up! You better tell me what have you screwed up in the settings?"

"Why, didn't you get any?"

Chris looked at Adam angrily, spat, and kicked the stool, which fell to the floor.

"What do you mean I didn't get any, dumb ass? I worked there in the spaceport and went to bars; there was as much alcohol as you like, gin, whiskey, cognac. I was getting pussy every night. The matter is entirely different. It was like in the olden days when a man and a woman had feelings for each other. Before the ban."

Chris referred to the Feminist United Planet Alliance's ban on sexual relations.

"It was your idea to have more R E A L I Z M," Adam mocked.

"Not the kind of realism, you fuck! I wanted the feelings to be sharper. Shit!" He waved his hand in annoyance. "You can't understand that, wanker!"

There was a pause. Red-faced, Chris paced the small room back and forth where he and Adam lived, the so-called "dwelling compartment," an accommodation that met survival needs. It had bunk beds, a refrigerator, a convection stove, a toilet with a shower, and "helmets" for controlled dreams. Chris and Adam lived from the age of fifteen after being distributed from the "house of care," where both were raised since artificial insemination.

“You’re saying I don’t understand? No, I understand it very well” Albert was offended, “It’s you, buddy, who don’t understand diddly squat in controlled dreams. In a dream, everything happens according to a script written by someone and played by actors. And filming equipment records their thoughts and emotional experiences!”
Albert pointed to his temple, where he, like all people, had a chip made from organic materials that monitored his vital medical signs.

"During the sleep, you feel what the actor felt. Realistic settings not only can provide a consumer with a primitive masturbator but are also able to convey scenario variations. Only the top-notch wealthy users can afford private dreams," he sighed, "and Sleeping Beauty is a low-budget film – for an average Joe. In general, though, a dream scriptwriter is a cool profession," he dreamily looked at the ceiling.

"Yeah, really cool," Chris twisted his mouth, mocking Albert, "shit, if only I could work at the spaceport, or even fly on a ship… That is a job for a real man!"

"Hey, speak for yourself. I could care less for spaceports. I just don't want to work for wankers like us. I wish I'd design real artistic dreams."
Chris wanted to protest, but instead, he opened the refrigerator.

"Let's eat. Soon there will be a lesson on the educational channel. We need to get credit for it if we want to play at a higher level and get permission to move to higher levels."

"Thanks, as if I don't know that. Maybe tell me one can accumulate crypto for winnings."
Chris just waved his hand. Teenagers on Mars could only make money in two ways: winning sports competitions or playing planetary computer games.

"What would you like, Peking duck or Chicken Curry?"

"Is that all that's left?"

"Yes, next time, let's ask for Indian food or something…."

"Well, all right, Chicken Curry, then."

Chris took two square bags with convenience foods out of the fridge and put them into the convection oven. The food was ready in two minutes. The guys opened the bags and began to eat. Sitting next to the control panel, Albert turned on the screen and selected the educational channel.

The presenter appeared on the screen and described events that started flashing on the net.

"In 2035, the world finally emerged from the global crisis. Many economic, scientific, and political events became the cause of this turn in the fate of humankind. However, a special place in this breakthrough should attribute to the invention of the so-called "health chip" - an electronic device driven by artificial intelligence technology, which made it possible constantly monitor the human body's indicators. It became possible to take immediate actions at the first sign of terrible diseases that have been the cause of human suffering, such as cardiovascular disease, cancer, kidney and liver disease, and many others. The expression "live hundred years" has changed from a figurative birthday wish to literal reality. Statistical live expectance people on earth became a hundred years or longer. Most importantly, this made it possible to save people from suffering associated with serious illnesses and maintain cheerfulness and clarity of thought until the end of their days."

"Well, yes," Chris grumbled, "with the help of these health chips, the AI now knows all our ins and outs and manipulates people as it pleases."

"Hm. Would you rather die of some stupid illness at fifty?"

"No, but..."

"Shut up, then, and let's watch!"

"The second global innovation was the almost complete replacement of human labor by the labor of friendly robots. The centuries-old dream of people about "bread and circuses" has come true. People no longer starve; disease, crime, and accidents are minimized.

Chris sat stretching in a chair, with a disgruntled critical mine on his face. He balled up the food bag and tossed it into the trashcan with a basketball wrist motion.

"Three-pointer. Swish!"

"The third global event in the life of mankind," continued the TV, "was birth control. With the average life expectancy reaching a hundred years, people can no longer leave to chance the issue of spontaneous fertility. Yes, historically, a man and a woman had to live together and provide for their offspring until they reached the age when they could feed themselves. However, today these wild prediluvian ways are over, and the scientific community, led by the United Feminist Alliance, has taken control of procreation into their own hands. Today, people are born in exact quantity and gender that allows maintaining healthy optimal numbers and proper gender diversification on the solar system's planets. As a result, humanity's better half has become completely independent of its coarser and more primitive part. With a more thorough scientific analysis, it turned out that biorobots can completely replace the male part of humanity. Designed by female design teams, biorobots are dozens of times more effective, both in emotional availability and physical compatibility. Today, a woman and other gender minorities can satisfy any desire - from a cozy family nest to the most unexpected and extravagant. Still, to fully exclude spontaneous births, scientists made a wise decision to isolate genders by settling males on Mars!"

After that statement, the screen crackled and flashed images of the beautiful present for a while.

Seeing that Chris had dozed off, Albert shook him.

“Don't sleep. We need to remember this shit. You said it yourself. We have to pass the test! Then we’ll be able to apply for shifting to the next game level, and instead of wanker dreams, we’d be allowed to have a real doll. You whine that you want to bang a real body all the time.”

Not finding anything to retort, Chris patted his face with his palms, and they listened to the lesson to the end.

Chris yawned deeply, climbed back onto the top bunk, and put on his sleeping helmet.

"Let's dive again. Turn on the virtual dream!"

"Which one now? Do you want to jump to Cinderella? I also downloaded Beauty and the Beast.

Haven't tried it myself, but I've heard it's really good!"

"No, I'm going back to Sleeping Beauty. Only now take the hell out of these realistic settings!"