|
Her attention returned to the microscope, once again enthralled, to my entire delight, by the sub-miniature but perfect roses I had crafted for her. "It's time, my love," I said eventually. "Yes, I suppose it must be," Trace replied sadly, tossing back her blonde hair. One of my drones led her back towards the suspended-animation chamber, the shining metal of the manipulators gently pressing against the softness of her skin. Through the remote, I carefully prepared the couch inside the chamber, then gestured for her to enter.
Once, long ago, Trace declared she wanted to be young always and, perhaps rashly, I promised to love her forever. Now, her heart was not so strong after all these millennia, and we had agreed that she would slept dreamlessly down the years. I would awaken her for Valentine's Day, with an unspoken accord that these would not quite be every year. Recently, the interval has been approaching the millennium mark. I had not quite been entirely honest earlier - I had spent five or six hundred years trying to make the dewdrops sparkle with suspended gold flecks, but without success. Maybe next time - after all, I had all the time in the world. As long as the stars shine, this little habitat can sustain itself, its self-repairing mechanisms as near-perfect as our old technology could make then, and guided and - when necessary - patched-up by the drones that I have at my command. "I love you," I whispered softly, as the chamber once again stilled her heart and chilled her perfect body, "I'll love you until the end of time."
|