By Racon Gunner
Edited for Man of Ages

The thought struck me as I awoke from another night of abstract, restless dreams—those strange fragments that flicker just beyond reach. Lately, my sleep has been troubled, agitated by the uncertainties of each coming day. Somewhere in that fog of memory, an old film resurfaced—its name lost to time, its cast long forgotten. But one scene remains: a man awakened from cryogenic sleep, possessed by a demon, his soul already departed. The body lived, but the spirit was gone.

‍

Yes, it’s a horror cliché. Yet that unsettling image—an empty vessel, soul displaced—has lingered with me. And in the worldview of Christianity, it raises urgent questions. We are not mere clusters of atoms waiting to be reassembled like cargo in a Star Trek transporter. Our existence is more—mind, body, and spirit intertwined. All three must be accounted for, especially when confronting the far-fetched, but not unthinkable, idea of cryogenic sleep.

Science fiction has long danced with this theme. From Alien to Interstellar, humanity is placed in hypersleep to journey across the stars, conserving fuel and time. Sometimes it works. Sometimes... it goes terrifyingly wrong.

Stephen King’s The Jaunt left the deepest mark on me. Not exactly cryogenic sleep, but close—teleportation across space, requiring unconsciousness during transit. A boy, curious and defiant, chooses to stay awake. When he arrives, he’s mad beyond repair. For him, the journey was eternal. A vast, blank void. Alone.

‍

That tale haunts me. It forces the question: If our bodies are preserved, what happens to our souls? If we are suspended in time, is our spirit as well? Or worse—left behind?

To freeze the flesh is one thing. To preserve the soul is another matter entirely. In the Christian understanding, life is not just breath and pulse. It is spiritual. Cryosleep without spiritual protection risks disconnecting soul from body—leaving the mind vulnerable, the spirit exposed.

And then there’s the enemy.

The Apostle Paul warns us that we do not battle against flesh and blood, but against Principalities and Powers.

Ephesians 6:12 (Amplified Bible):‍"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood [contending only with physical opponents], but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this [present] darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly (supernatural) places."

Picture Lewis’s Screwtape given access to a slumbering soul—half-aware, half-lost, with no worship, no fellowship, no encouragement from fellow believers. Such a soul would be the devil’s playground.

‍

Even for believers, armed with truth and shielded by grace, the prolonged absence of worship and community could wear down the strongest spiritual warrior. How does one fight the enemy while unconscious? How do we withstand spiritual assault in a state where even thought may be suspended?

This is no mere science fiction puzzle. If, before the return of Christ, humanity is granted the means to explore the stars, then we as Christians must reckon with this. The body may be kept alive. But can the soul endure such isolation? Can the mind remain whole?

It’s a question I return to often in my stories—this tension between exploration and spiritual cost. Perhaps, by God's mercy, a solution will come. Or perhaps it will never be needed. For His return may come first.

But the question remains.

And maybe it finds its answer in our own dark tales—in the Dark Realm itself. There, in our latest Man of Ages adventure, players step into a place where the soul is tested, the mind fractured, and the body strained against unnatural horrors. And for those who endure to the end, the final revelation… Well, I won't spoil it. Let’s just say, the themes echo louder than I ever imagined.

After all, what is cryogenic sleep but a mirror of spiritual slumber—a test not just of survival, but of what lies within?

—R.

‍