“I do, yes.” Ms. B clasps her hands. “Rich people own this technology and control how it’s used.”

Dr. Iverson cuts in. “Luckily, the people who make this place go aren’t only generous but also operate with the best intentions.” Dr. Iverson smiles. “But that’s not why you’re here. As we confirmed prior to Quincy’s transfer here, he does indeed meet all of our major reanimation criteria.”

I meet the doctor’s eyes. “Those being?”

“He is healthy, his body is largely unscathed, and he had a good amount of brain and heart activity postexpiration.”

“Postexpiration? You mean, his organs were still working after he died?” I ask.

Dr. Langdon grins. “Did you know that right before you take your last breath, there is a large chemical surge within your brain? In fact, it’s more activity than your brain ever experienced during all your life. That was the start of all this,” he says, holding his arms out like he’s selling us a house. “That surge is the key.”

Ms. B presses for more. “But how does it work? What if something goes wrong?”

“While I cannot go into the specifics of the reanimation process, I can tell you that each phase is closely monitored,” Dr. Langdon says.

Dr. Iverson adds, “The technology is new, yes, but we employ many of the world’s most advanced scientific minds. Quincy will be our tenth reanimation. Each time, as with any procedure, we’ve improved the quality of the experience.”

Dr. Langdon frowns, takes a small step forward. “There is . . . a psychological component to reanimation that you should be keenly aware of.”

Ms. B shifts. “Which is?”

“For the reanimation to hold, we need to rewind Quincy’s memory to several moments prior to the moment he jumped into the water.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because the trauma of that incident, its severity, could untether Quincy’s mental health.”

“You said there’d be no pain, but now you’re saying my son could go crazy,” Ms. B says, her voice rising.

“No, no,” Dr. Langdon says, holding his hands up. “The rewind prevents that. It lessens the shock to the system. As such, our team is also determining the ideal window in which to restart your son’s memory of last night.”

Ms. B nods slowly. “There’s a but coming.”

Dr. Iverson tilts her head. “Quincy will not recall any aspect surrounding his death.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’re saying . . .” Dr. Iverson clasps her hands together in that doctorly way. “Quincy will not know he’s dead, but in a few weeks’ time, he will die again, Ms. Barrantes. Physiologically and psychologically, memory rewinding is the safest way for us to reanimate. But once Quincy’s fully regrounded into his old world, it may be beneficial to . . . alert him to the nature of his situation.”