038. Welcome to 2117. Try not to drip on the carpet.

Theresa’s neck ached from lying to one side for more than a century. She was beginning to think she should’ve sprung for the deluxe preservation orb. After all, when it came to cryogenics, you got what you paid for.

When she could walk, the first thing she did was look out the window. Through the smog, a labyrinth of overpasses crawled with traffic. The shapes of the cars had changed, but they still moved on wheels.

“Where are the hovercraft?” she asked, and Dr Montgomery laughed. He was still in his first-life, so he didn’t know what it felt like to arrive in a disappointing future. He ushered her into another room, and sat her down next to a box of her old belongings.

There were documents for a bank account, with what amounted to quite a lot of money in the new currency. She would need it to retrain, of course – her skills as a games programmer would be hopelessly out of date. Rummaging through the box she also found photographs of now-very-old friends and her childhood teddy. A few of her favourite dresses. A battered copy of Catcher in the Rye. And – she laughed a little – a Snickers bar. She wondered if they still sold those.

One of the staff had thoughtfully included a book, “Avoiding an Icy Reception: The Cryogenician’s Guide to Social Norms in the Year 2117.”  Under the “Politics” heading, she noticed the US president was George W. Bush.

“I see the Bush family still has a hold over American politics,” she said.

“Actually,” Dr Montgomery said kindly. “Mr Bush is from your life-era.  You’ll be pleased to know there are quite a few of you around.”

Theresa stared. “They brought him back?”

“More than once, actually,” Dr Montgomery said. “His popularity shot right up after the second assassination.”

There was a pool of water in her now-vintage shoes where her toes were still thawing out, and that wasn’t the only reason Theresa was uncomfortable.  She was beginning to think she had made a terrible mistake.