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Title: Between The Flesh And The Glass
Author: lalalive23
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Warning: Language and drug use
Summary: AU. The year is 2166. Matt works as a cryogenicist for the International System of Health. He volunteers to be the first person cryogenically frozen for 100 years.
Feedback: Tastes like a chocolate rainbow.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. This never happened (this hasn't happened yet...see what I did there?). I don't make money off of this. God I wish I did, I'm so poor.
Note: Oh lord. This was a surprise fic. I had no intention of writing sci-fi or anything like this until three nights ago. A conversation with
sunshine_173 got a bit out of hand (I mean...really they usually do) and this just...happened. In the time it takes me to microwave a Lean Cuisine, I had this story worked out. And I'm really excited about it. But this is completely unlike anything I have ever written before. This story is going to be slow going when it comes to updates. There is a stupid amount of research I'm putting into this. I mean, I'm a film student not a scientist. So I'm being careful and constructing a realistic future. I am open to anyone who wants to offer help/advice/beta assistance. That said, thanks to
sunshine_173,
seethedream, and
millionstar for reading this over and cheering me on and convincing me that this story needs to be written. They are extraordinary ladies. And thanks to you for not only reading this massive not, but for looking past the cut. <3
June 16, 2166
In 10 hours, I'm going to die. Well, not really but sort of.
When I volunteered for the project last year, everyone thought I was insane. It didn't phase me, really. They would have thought that of anyone who willingly decided to be cryogenically frozen for 100 years. I assume their opinion was escalated because I was one of the lead scientists at the International System of Health. At first they were operating under the guise that the project couldn't function without me. I saw right through that shit. Once I broke that down, they just admitted that they couldn't understand why I would. Surely, I had something to live for?
My work? Frankly, I could use a break.
My family? Don't have one. And the last remaining threads of the one I used to have can fuck right off.
Friends? Don't have any of those either, unless you count my dealer. But he doesn't exactly call to shoot the shit, if you know what I mean.
I know what you're thinking. 'Jesus, Matt, if you need a break from work just take a vacation.' Right. Well, fuck you. I could go on vacation but what would I do? I have no one to go with and nowhere I care to go. But the one thing I've always wanted to do was time travel. You would think, since we've cured most of the diseases Earth has suffered, we can freeze people for some years to cure the ones we can't, and we've figured out how to print in 3D, that we would have built a time machine.
Nope.
And doing this is the closest thing I'll come to making my dream come true.
Besides, 100 years of basically sleeping? Fuck yes.
Shut up, I'm not stupid. I'm a cryogenicist not an idealist. I know that there's more to this than just sleeping. This is the closest thing I'll come to dying and being resurrected. There's a chance I won't be resurrected at all. It's going to hurt like fuck and probably worse. I told you I was the lead scientist on this project, I know the fucking risks. I just wish there wasn't so much paperwork.
After signing about seventy pages of release forms, I had to work through an entire book on what the government and the facility would do with my assets. I worked through page after page of what I would and wouldn't be allowed to do, endless streams of legal verbiage about my car (my sexy little hover craft, fuck I am going to miss you), my research in the department being turned over to someone else, my closest living kin. I couldn't have cared less about any of these things aside from my house. One hundred years was a long time, and I knew damn well none of the shit I cared about today would be around in the future. All that really mattered was my house.
When I wake up, 100 years from now, the only thing that will be on my mind is if I have a place to stay. Truthfully, I am not too pleased with what's happening to it. My house would remain in tact, members of our department would stay in it through cycles of no more than five years. This was excellent news, in that it meant my house would still be there when I woke up. It was bad in that this was my personal and private space, and I don't care who you are, you don't want a strange motherfucker roaming around your shit. It doesn't exactly make you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
By the time I got home from the facility, I was already aching for a fix. The irritating twitch in my middle finger was coming back. I hate that.
Sitting on my king size bed, in nothing but my black briefs, I unroll the leather pouch that has my stash of Necozine. This is the drug to to beat all drugs and you've probably never heard of it. That's not an insult, it's just the truth. See, this is the drug the ISH doesn't want you to know about. Why?
Because we invented it.
Actually, this drug was an accident. A mishap in the lab that cost a lot of people a fuckload of money and only three people their jobs. I got my hands on it because a buddy of mine knew a guy with the right pass codes and the right information. I owe those blokes everything.
I was never meant to be addicted, though. See, I'm too fucking curious for my own nature. I couldn't help myself. But what the fuck would you do if you found out the company you worked for put a synesthetic under lock and key? It was too easy and it was too fascinating. I just wanted to try it. Just once.
Once turned into twice turned into 10 turned into I-lost-fucking-count-but-I-don't-even-care. No one had ever tried it. No one knew the side effects. All we knew is that the formula had been written down in excruciating detail and I knew where to get it. Once I passed it on to a chemist I knew I could trust, well...
Me and my endless supply of Necozine. Best friends forever. Well, and my dealer...but again, he doesn't count.
I fill the syringe with the liquid that looks like absinthe but probably tastes like glycerine. It took weeks of trial and error to figure out how to use it. Injecting the needle into your arm made you violently ill; the vein in your hand never allowed it to circulate and took no effect. No, the only way for this drug to work was if you injected it straight into your femoral artery. That gave you the best high in the quickest fashion.
Sliding back to my pillows, I kick the pouch to the side and spread my legs wide. I can see myself in the mirror in front of my closet and smile. Fuck you, I'm a pretty bastard. A short chirping from my mobile interrupts me. Picking up the glass rectangle, I see that it's my boss, Nathan. He's probably checking in to make sure I'm ok, that my nerves are settled. That I wouldn't be a pussy and back out right before show time. I ignore the phone call and slide the glass mobile away from me.
Fuck off, Nathan, I'm in the middle of injecting liquid courage.
As usual, the needle glides in with little more than an awkward prick, meeting no resistance from me at all. Eyes wide open, I stare around my bedroom, looking at all the little luxuries I'd be giving up, as I press the liquid into my artery.
Twenty seconds is all it takes for me to hear colour and see sound. A sooth sensation fills my body and my muscles relax. I smile.
In 10 hours, I am going to die.
But right now, I have never felt so alive.
Author: lalalive23
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Warning: Language and drug use
Summary: AU. The year is 2166. Matt works as a cryogenicist for the International System of Health. He volunteers to be the first person cryogenically frozen for 100 years.
Feedback: Tastes like a chocolate rainbow.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. This never happened (this hasn't happened yet...see what I did there?). I don't make money off of this. God I wish I did, I'm so poor.
Note: Oh lord. This was a surprise fic. I had no intention of writing sci-fi or anything like this until three nights ago. A conversation with
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June 16, 2166
In 10 hours, I'm going to die. Well, not really but sort of.
When I volunteered for the project last year, everyone thought I was insane. It didn't phase me, really. They would have thought that of anyone who willingly decided to be cryogenically frozen for 100 years. I assume their opinion was escalated because I was one of the lead scientists at the International System of Health. At first they were operating under the guise that the project couldn't function without me. I saw right through that shit. Once I broke that down, they just admitted that they couldn't understand why I would. Surely, I had something to live for?
My work? Frankly, I could use a break.
My family? Don't have one. And the last remaining threads of the one I used to have can fuck right off.
Friends? Don't have any of those either, unless you count my dealer. But he doesn't exactly call to shoot the shit, if you know what I mean.
I know what you're thinking. 'Jesus, Matt, if you need a break from work just take a vacation.' Right. Well, fuck you. I could go on vacation but what would I do? I have no one to go with and nowhere I care to go. But the one thing I've always wanted to do was time travel. You would think, since we've cured most of the diseases Earth has suffered, we can freeze people for some years to cure the ones we can't, and we've figured out how to print in 3D, that we would have built a time machine.
Nope.
And doing this is the closest thing I'll come to making my dream come true.
Besides, 100 years of basically sleeping? Fuck yes.
Shut up, I'm not stupid. I'm a cryogenicist not an idealist. I know that there's more to this than just sleeping. This is the closest thing I'll come to dying and being resurrected. There's a chance I won't be resurrected at all. It's going to hurt like fuck and probably worse. I told you I was the lead scientist on this project, I know the fucking risks. I just wish there wasn't so much paperwork.
After signing about seventy pages of release forms, I had to work through an entire book on what the government and the facility would do with my assets. I worked through page after page of what I would and wouldn't be allowed to do, endless streams of legal verbiage about my car (my sexy little hover craft, fuck I am going to miss you), my research in the department being turned over to someone else, my closest living kin. I couldn't have cared less about any of these things aside from my house. One hundred years was a long time, and I knew damn well none of the shit I cared about today would be around in the future. All that really mattered was my house.
When I wake up, 100 years from now, the only thing that will be on my mind is if I have a place to stay. Truthfully, I am not too pleased with what's happening to it. My house would remain in tact, members of our department would stay in it through cycles of no more than five years. This was excellent news, in that it meant my house would still be there when I woke up. It was bad in that this was my personal and private space, and I don't care who you are, you don't want a strange motherfucker roaming around your shit. It doesn't exactly make you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
By the time I got home from the facility, I was already aching for a fix. The irritating twitch in my middle finger was coming back. I hate that.
Sitting on my king size bed, in nothing but my black briefs, I unroll the leather pouch that has my stash of Necozine. This is the drug to to beat all drugs and you've probably never heard of it. That's not an insult, it's just the truth. See, this is the drug the ISH doesn't want you to know about. Why?
Because we invented it.
Actually, this drug was an accident. A mishap in the lab that cost a lot of people a fuckload of money and only three people their jobs. I got my hands on it because a buddy of mine knew a guy with the right pass codes and the right information. I owe those blokes everything.
I was never meant to be addicted, though. See, I'm too fucking curious for my own nature. I couldn't help myself. But what the fuck would you do if you found out the company you worked for put a synesthetic under lock and key? It was too easy and it was too fascinating. I just wanted to try it. Just once.
Once turned into twice turned into 10 turned into I-lost-fucking-count-but-I-don't-even-care. No one had ever tried it. No one knew the side effects. All we knew is that the formula had been written down in excruciating detail and I knew where to get it. Once I passed it on to a chemist I knew I could trust, well...
Me and my endless supply of Necozine. Best friends forever. Well, and my dealer...but again, he doesn't count.
I fill the syringe with the liquid that looks like absinthe but probably tastes like glycerine. It took weeks of trial and error to figure out how to use it. Injecting the needle into your arm made you violently ill; the vein in your hand never allowed it to circulate and took no effect. No, the only way for this drug to work was if you injected it straight into your femoral artery. That gave you the best high in the quickest fashion.
Sliding back to my pillows, I kick the pouch to the side and spread my legs wide. I can see myself in the mirror in front of my closet and smile. Fuck you, I'm a pretty bastard. A short chirping from my mobile interrupts me. Picking up the glass rectangle, I see that it's my boss, Nathan. He's probably checking in to make sure I'm ok, that my nerves are settled. That I wouldn't be a pussy and back out right before show time. I ignore the phone call and slide the glass mobile away from me.
Fuck off, Nathan, I'm in the middle of injecting liquid courage.
As usual, the needle glides in with little more than an awkward prick, meeting no resistance from me at all. Eyes wide open, I stare around my bedroom, looking at all the little luxuries I'd be giving up, as I press the liquid into my artery.
Twenty seconds is all it takes for me to hear colour and see sound. A sooth sensation fills my body and my muscles relax. I smile.
In 10 hours, I am going to die.
But right now, I have never felt so alive.