Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 13, 1999)
Broad horizons Columnist questions career path Today I woke up, and I wanted to be a lion. 1 wanted to stalk zebras through tall, burnt grasses with the sun's heat bearing down upon my back, illuminating the glory of my golden fur. To creep up on helpless, grazing giraffes and chase them down in a chaotic frenzy, a life-or-death situa tion. I wanted to rip into my catch, ravenously, crazed, tearing into meat that meant my survival. Blood dripping from my lion’s beard, I would drag the prey back to my hidden den. There, a lioness would wait only for me and the feast I brought. And after the feast of satisfaction, 1 want ed pure raw sex of lion nature; then contented sleep would come. Happy in my lion’s den, every thing that needed to be done was completed. Tomorrow, if food was needed, food would be found. When sex was needed, sex would come. Pure life, natural life, instinctual life. I wanted to be a lion. Today when I woke up, I was not lion. I thought of a lion, but a lion could not think of being me. A lion u Today when I woke up, I was not lion. does not think of being a lion. A lion is a lion. I have a Spanish test this week. I took Spanish because I wanted to learn another language: Me gusta espanol, porque es una lenguaje especial, y yo no soy con tento con ingles solamente. Yo nece sito aprender mas lenguajes. Last week I turned in my final papers for Educational Psychology 251. Psychology of adolescents. I wanted to know about adoles cents, because I think I want to be a teacher. But I am not exactly sure that I want to teach. Maybe I want to be something else. Trevor Johnson is a junior secondary education and English major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist Science fact . Medical breakthroughs surprise in near future It was 2009 when I awoke. A doctor in a white lab coat hov ered over me with one of those phony smiles plastered to his face. He was a short black man who looked back and forth between me and my chart “Welcome back to the land of die living, Mr. Hicks. How did it feel to be dead?” “Deathlike,” I responded, raising one hand to rub my forehead. An IV was strapped to my arm. I fek-weak, - Had trouble remembering things. “Where am I?” “St Joseph’s, Mr. Hides.” The doctor took a penlight out of his pocket “Don’t worry. It’s common to have some memory loss just after defrost. It will come back to you eventually.” “Defrost?” He smiled condescendingly. “Yes, Mr. Hicks, you had a terminal form of cancer, and instead of letting you die, you were cryogenically frozen until a solution could be found.” I blinked the room into focus. It sure as hell didn’t look like the future: standard hospital white. No one was wearing mylar outfits; the doctor still had on a digital watch. “How long ago was that?” . ADout two years ago. ‘Two years?!” The orderly pushed me gently back against the bed. “I’m sorry if took so long, Mr. Hicks.”''* * ~ “So long? I expected I’d have been frozen for a decade or two!” “Well, Mr. Hicks, medical science is just hopping along. It has been since the late ’90s.” “Forgive me for the spotty memo ry, Doc, but what’s been cured since then?” “HTV, lung cancer, spiral paralysis and blindness, to name a few... it’s a brave new world, Mr. Hicks.” “The blind see? The lame walk? So Stevie Wonder, Christopher Reeves?” “Both are fully functional once again, I’m pleased to say. “You were dying of inoperable brain cancer.” “And you’ve found a cure for it?” “This type, yes.” 4 ' “So,” I cringed, “when do I go into surgery?” “You don’t” “What do you mean I don’t?” Th^doctor smiled and shrugged, - <rYou don’t We’ve developed a tiny little micromachine that goes inside you and bums away the cancer while repairing the flesh. It only works for this type of cancer, but it’s all you need. We call them ...” “Nanomachines.” “Why yes, that’s right. How did you know?” I chuckled softly. It hurt a little. “They were the stuff of fiction back in the day, Doc.” “Oh yes, I do keep forgetting you were something of a writer of this type of thing. You’ll have to excuse me; I don’t have much time for recre ational reading.” “What else has medicine done?” The doctor frowned at me like I was a little child. “Done?” I felt excited now; it was all com ing back to me. “Sure, wnat else has l modern med- I icine done? \ "Can Hook \ around the \ hospital?” I started to get up. “Mr. Hicks! Get back in that bed this instant!” the doc- j tor scolded. ‘m Jm but Doc, / A I wanna \ \ look Yv around and \\j see what the / future ^SA looks rtf like!” I looked at % the orderly. « “You’ll 1 i -sneak me 1/ outtathis V joint, won’t % you?” 1 The order- 1 ly, a thin Vietnamese girl, smiled down at me. “Sorry, Mr. Hicks, no jail breaks planned for another two weeks.” “Besides,” the doctor added, “your wife and son are on their way here.” “Wife? Son?” I rubbed my tem ples. My brain’d started to hurt “I’m having trouble...” “Shhhhh ...just lie back, Mr. Hicks, and get some rest. The dethaw process places heavy strain...” T was asleep before he finished the sentence.' A day later, my brother Curt was pushing me around die hospital a little too fast for my own good. I told him to do it. An orderly ordered us to slow down, and we came up to a big glass window. Both Curt and I were trans fixed as we watched. A man lay on a table, and his left arm was being rebuilt Apparently his arm had been crushed in an industrial accident, and reattachment was impossible, so they were growing him another one. The stump of his left arm was resting against a tank of fluid that was being bombarded by millions of little lights. And inside the tank, a new arm was growing where his old one had once been. a That’s the one thing I’ve learned.... If you ’re alive long enough, almost all science-fiction becomes simply ... science. “Did you ever think you’d see this, Cliff?” my younger brother asked me. I smiled as Curt started to push me back toward my room. I was to be released tomorrow, and that was that. Being brought back to life only earned you a week in the hospital at most anymore. “That’s die one tiling I’ve learned best of all over the last 10 years, Curt: “If you’re alive long enough, almost all science-fiction becomes V, i simpIy • science.” He laughed at that. “Next thing you know, Curt, you’ll be telling me people live on the moon.” He grinned, knowing my memory wasn’t all back yet “Oh, by the way - our brother-in-law, Tony, sends his regards and said he’ll see you next time he’s on the planet” You gotta love die future. Cliff Hicks is a senior news-editorial and English major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist