Between The Flesh And The Glass: 1/??
Nov. 17th, 2011 01:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lalalive23Title: Between The Flesh And The Glass
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lalalive23
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Warning: Language
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 (well, not yet). I don't make money off this. My whole life is a waste lol.
Note: Ok. So. A couple things. This is Matt's car: I want to fuck this car with everything I am. Also. I put a lot of time and research into the process of cryogenic freezing and the chemistry. It might not seem like it in this chapter, but trust me, it will appear later. Also, Matt is a twatwaffle. If he offends you, I'm sorry, but he gets better. He's just a bitter guy lol. Annnd, now I must thanksunshine_173, seethedream, and millionstar for reading this over as it came and cheering me on. I love them <3 And now we shall read!!
Prologue
I took my time leaving the house in the morning. Because I'm a sentimental bastard, I made sure to get dressed slowly, to walk slowly, and took every inch of my house in before I left. Not that I'm a material person, but in the absence of actual people to care about, my things were what kept me company.
My unused grand piano (because I was wealthy and wanted to be gauche), my Eta dishwasher (because I was a scientist and cared about the environment) and my SmartFridge (because I fucking need to eat). These were the things that mattered to me, sad as it is. And I was leaving them behind.
Come to think of it, I actually think it took me twenty minutes just to make toast because I stood in my kitchen staring at all my shit.
Maybe it was the overwhelming sense of nostalgia I was dealing with, but I found myself craving one last hit of Necozine. I could almost imagine the effects of it just standing still. I didn't go through with it, though, and left it under the loose floorboard underneath my bed.
Why?
Because I'm not a dumbass. Contrary to whatever you might be thinking, I'm actually extremely smart just a bit reckless. Shooting up six hours ago was a gamble on my part, considering there was no proof that any residual chemicals would be left in my body. And if there were, there was no proof that they would react with the cryoprotectant circulating through my blood in nearly 4 hours.
If you were a therapist, you could assume that my hesitation to leave the house was really my subconscious telling me not to go through with the experiment. But you aren't. And so, again, I say fuck you.
And even though I spent all that time running my hands over my touch-counter, and watching the self-cleaning pool…self-clean, the only thing I really didn't want to leave behind was my car.
My Audi SR8. Also known as Helena. She was my gift to myself the year before, after I had officially volunteered, and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her personal assistant service never back talked, her SatNav never failed, and she even remembered my birthday.
If you ask me, I never needed another human relationship.
For the last time in my long life, I swiped my finger along the pad to wake her up. The engine purred and the car raised itself a few inches above ground.
"Welcome back, Matthew."
The console glowed an appealing blue, the car coming to life beneath my hands.
My heart swelled. "Thank you, Helena. Today is our last day together."
"Yes. I remember. You told me this last year."
Oh, Helena. You were always so attentive.
I sighed. Best be getting on with it. "To the ISH, please."
"Of course."
I enjoyed the last smooth ride I would ever have in my car, making myself comfortable in the plush leather. Leaving her was nearly impossible, knowing that she would be turned into recyclable metal at 5PM that day made my heart break. I took several minutes before I exited, stroking the steering pad with my palm. I wanted one last conversation with the love of my life.
"I'm going to miss you Helena." I felt like I was dying.
She said nothing. Helena didn't process human emotions.
"See you soon?" I tried.
"I will always wait for you, Matthew."
That was exactly what I wanted to hear.
On my way towards the building, I fell into step with Amber, a geneticist from the third floor. I took a second to admire her and briefly felt depressed. I would never get the chance to fuck her. What a shame. In one hundred years, she would be dead and gone, and her fantastic tits will be little more than a memory. Again, what a shame.
"I don't really know what to say." She turned to look at me as we scanned our fingerprint ID cards into the door before pressing our thumbs to the pad to make a match. "Good luck seems hardly appropriate."
Christ, she had a fantastic mouth.
I humored her with a smile. "Well, with any luck I might actually live."
I'm pretty sure that put her off the conversation entirely. She moved her head in something akin to a sombre nod and almost ran away from me through the door.
What the fuck was I supposed to say? 'Gee thanks. But don't worry, I'll be fine?' Fucking no. I'm not gonna lie, not about my mortality. You can't sugar coat that shit as much as you can't avoid it.
Walking through the building felt like walking through death row. The eyes watching me and the whispers. I didn't stop to talk with anyone, and took the stairs to the fifth floor to avoid any awkward situation that would manifest in the lifts.
I swiped my keycard as the doors slid open, 8:00AM on the dot, and I paused. From my view in the doorway, I could see most of the lab had been emptied to make room for the large cases of coolant; emptied and cleaned as though preparing for a funeral party. Everything was so sterile.
When I entered, everyone went quiet and they turned their eyes to me. They didn't do anything. They just sat there and watched me like I was going to start crying. That was fucking irritating.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." I rolled my eyes. Fucking drama queens.
I barely got my hands on my lab coat before my usual routine was interrupted.
"Hi, Dr. Bellamy."
I paused with my hand on my coat and stared at the wall. "Daniel. I thought we were going to pretend today was a normal day."
Fucking interns.
"I know, sir, you did say that." I could hear him shifting awkwardly, his shoes sliding together on the floor.
I fixed my gaze on him and he colored. As a boy, he'd idolized my work and claimed that it was what got him into science to begin with. He willingly admitted to anyone who asked that he took the internship so he could watch me work first hand. While most of the other lab technicians admired his enthusiasm, I didn't. In my eyes, he took the internship for all the wrong reasons.
In my eyes, I wanted him out.
"So then what about this interaction is normal?"
He was silent for a brief second. "Right. I'll, ah, leave you alone."
I could sense he was a bit hurt, considering this was our last day together for the rest of his natural life. Part of me almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
I know you're thinking I'm a dick. And I agree, you're actually right. I am a dick. But that's a blanket statement for my general nature. You're probably wondering why I was such a rude bastard to Daniel. Allow me to explain.
In my world, science was everything. It was a back and forth space where every time I ran an experiment, I was holding a conversation with the fabric of the universe. Constantly changing and moving, yet under my control. Infinitely more beautiful and more complex than your mother's Coq Au Vin recipe. And when you're in my world, you aren't there to fuck around and follow me around like a lost puppy. In my world, you take an internship to change yourself, not reaffirm something you already know is true. If Daniel had said, 'I'm here to learn,' then at least I would have respected him.
But he didn't. And therefore, I couldn't find it in me to give a single fuck about his childish idealism.
He scuttled away, a droop in his shoulders, only to be replaced a second later by Nathan.
I tugged on my coat with a sigh.
"You're wearing so many layers, Bellamy. Why bother when you have to take 'em off in an hour?"
I snorted. "I bet you would love to see me walk around naked all morning, just for your pleasure."
His laugh was brief and I could tell it was fake. It didn't reach his eyes. After working with him for ten years, I knew when he was feigning humor to avoid tension. Of course he would revert to the first inside joke we ever formed, the one about how we were hot for each other. While it was true that he was a homosexual and my dick carried a preference for one of it's own kind, not once did we cross a line that went beyond professional friendship. And even if he had tried, I doubt I would been mad. He was brilliant, irritating at times, but he got shit done. If it weren't for him, this project wouldn't have seen the light of day for another fifteen years.
He handed me the glass board containing my files, and I slipped on the finger pad that was in my pocket to manipulate the charts. We walked towards the table in silence, and as I slid onto my stool I heard him sigh.
"What is it?" I didn't bother to look at him. I didn't very much care to know if he was getting weepy.
"Are you sure you don't want to put this off? Even for a month?"
It was my turn to sigh. "Nate," I said, finally meeting his gaze. "We put this off for six months because you were worried we hadn't done enough research. I know your dick gets hard at the prospect of theorizing, but there comes a time when theory needs to be put to practice. And I say that time is now."
"Matt -"
Fuck it. I cut him off. "I did not sell this company my formula ten years ago to sit here and beat off to a fantasy that I won't see come to fruition. We have never been more prepared. The protectant is flawless in every trial run, and none of the tissue in the Veldilator has died. We do this today."
He fixed me with a hard stare, which I returned in kind. If this was how he wanted to be, fine. If he wanted to back out, that was cool too. I'd do this shit myself.
"It's not the research I'm worried about, Matt, it's you."
I returned my eyes to my forms, swiping aimlessly at the reports that I had already filled out meticulously. "I've seen the company therapist, Nate. I've been cleared."
"How hard did you fuck her to pass?"
I smiled at the laugh in his voice. "He passed me because it turns out I'm relatively sane. And I fucked him hard enough garner a second appointment."
"Lucky for you being a prick isn't a mental illness."
The laugh we shared allowed the atmosphere to return to normal, and I was glad we could at least operate with some ease.
Unfortunately, there wasn't much for me to do. There really never is for the test subject. I spent the last hour before moving to prep flicking through my reports and admiring my work. It really was brilliant.
See, I wasn't lying when I told you I was smart. By all rights, I'm a certifiable genius - and that isn't the arrogance talking. Well, maybe it is.
For years, cryogenic freezing was used only for the dead or brain dead. If their corpse was in good enough condition, they essentially became a human vegetable patch - organs and cells ripe for harvest. Then, maybe forty years ago, a scientist named Kristopher van Wilkhen developed a formula with cybernetic nitrogen that allowed living organic tissue to be kept in a frozen state for up to ten years. In his age, he was a living god.
This process allowed the sick or terminally ill to be put on pause, their life's timeline delayed, while researchers and doctors developed curse for their diseases. Today, most human's are blessed with the gift of dying naturally.
This is where it gets good. See, I'm an attention seeking little twat, and having someone else, someone dead no less, steal all the limelight in scientific culture simply wouldn't do. When I was 18, and too smart for my own fucking good, I one upped van Wlkhen - which isn't hard with a stupid name like that.
By tampering with the basic aspects of his formula, I developed a whole new process, using entirely different math and chemistry, that had the potential to keep organic tissue in stasis for one hundred years, perhaps more. Once I told the right people I potentially had the code of liquid life, well, it wasn't long before the money, the honorary doctorates, and the job offers started coming.
I told you I was smart.
The last ten years of my life were dedicated to the development, advancement, and production of advanced cryogenics. Countless nights and hours were poured into perfecting my formulas and building the right machines to keep the cells alive long enough. We'd tested on single cell organisms first, simple life, before moving upwards. It was a slow process with a lot of carnage along the way. Eventually, we started getting it right. Once we got it right multiple times in a row, we moved to mammals.
And now, I was the first human to be tested.
I know it sounds sick, that I've become my experiment. It actually sounds fucking morbid. But I don't have a death wish. I just want to silence the world for a few years and prove myself right in the process. And if I die? Well, what a way to go.
At nine-thirty, I moved into the prep room. I clicked the button to fog the glass as I removed my clothes. I should have felt nervous or sick to my stomach….or just something. Instead, I was completely numb. Outside the doors, I heard my co-workers muttering.
"One hundred years is a long time."
Aren't you a fucking bright one. Figure that out on your own, did you?
"What would drive him to volunteer?"
That is none of your goddamn business.
"What if something goes wrong?"
Then you better damn well fix it.
I slid on the neoprene briefs that would protect my dick and smiled. That felt really nice. Maybe in a hundred years I could take them outside the building to wear under my trousers. I lulled a moment, regarding my black clothes in a heap on the floor. Folding my lab coat, I placed it on the table before I draped the company robe over myself and stepped out into the holding room.
Nothing about the room was welcoming. Tables moved, except for one, hooks and cables, needles and silver metal all waiting for me to come in and die.
Nathan stood in the corner of the room, dressed completely in white, next to the large tube that was to hold my body in liquid nitrogen. I suddenly felt very claustrophobic.
In silence, I walked over to the table and sat on it. I felt my heart start to race, pounding in my ears and wished that the sounds of metal on metal would block it out. I hated that everyone was being so fucking careful. If only they would make some fucking noise, then I could pretend everything was fine.
"So. I guess…lay down." Nate sounded awkward and unsure of himself saying the words, even though we had rehearsed this process a thousand and one times. He knew his lines as well as I did. Well, he had significantly more. All I had to do was nod and try not to go into cardiac arrest.
I wasn't sure whose job was more difficult.
Following his instructions, I stripped off the robe and laid down, a shiver coursing through me as my back touched cold steel.
I watched, my head turned to my right, as Nate took my beautiful liquid, the specific cryoprotectant I'd developed just for this process and filled it in the syringe. The perfectionist in me wanted to do it. As much as I trusted him, it felt wrong handing everything I worked on over to someone who could easily make a mistake.
He lingered over me for several minutes before he finally spoke.
"Ok, we are going to start with the morphine. 2000mg."
Beth, a comely girl who had only started working at the ISH two years ago came to my left and passed the IV into my hand. I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing at all.
Nate stared at the timer that had taken up the screen on the wall, waiting for it to be precisely 10:00AM. The seconds clicked by and I became more and more drowsy. My sense of time was becoming blurred and I began to smile.
A shrill beeping overwhelmed the room before Nate swiped the timer away. He brought his eyes back to me. My smile faded.
"Are you ready?" He smiled at me and, again, it was fake. I wanted to punch the expression off his face.
"Such a smart guy shouldn't ask dumb questions."
He kept speaking. I couldn't understand why he was walking me through the process - whether it was to ease his conscious or if he thought I'd forgotten it in the course of 24 hours. I designed this shit. I knew exactly what was going to happen.
"Alright." He covered his face with a surgical mask and showed me the syringe containing cryoprotectant. "This won't hurt a bit."
Now he was just being crass.
"Don't lie to me," I frowned. "It doesn't look good on you."
"You're right. This is going to hurt like a bitch." It was the final thing he said before he pushed the needle into my vein.
Initially I thought nothing was happening. In fact, I almost laughed.
And then I started contemplating suicide. Death became a more appealing option than suffering through the agony of allowing cryoprotectant into my body. And that was with a few extra doses of morphine. I couldn't tell if the pain was maximized from the Necozine left hanging around or if I was just a pussy. Probably both.
I was blinded as the pain hit me like a mack truck. I wanted to puke, I wanted to cry. Every inch of me felt like it was being ripped from the inside out. My right wrist started to spasm violently. I curled my hands into fists to stop the movement, and I think my nails pierced the skin. My bones were trembling, starting to ache, and I bit my tongue hard enough to bleed over a scream.
I stared up at Nathan. His sad fucking green eyes and his perfect fucking flesh. I fucking hated him. He should have tried harder to talk me out of this. The bastard. I wanted to beat the shit out of him, and I would have if all my muscles weren't in the process of what felt like decaying, being ripped off the bone and re-sewn in one motion.
In a brief moment of clarity, I realized the difference between knowing the science of something and experiencing it. Knowing what was happening made it worse. Saying it and feeling it at the same time heightens your focus on it, until you can pick it apart second by second as you walk yourself through it. It isn't comforting. Not in the fucking slightest.
And while you're picking it apart, time seems to slow. It was only supposed to last 30 seconds. That's the blink of an eye. Instead I sat there dying on a table, praying to a god I didn't believe in to get me out of the fire, for what felt like an eternity. Time can go fuck itself.
Eventually, the pain began to ease and I became light headed. My vision blurred and I was unable to tell if Nathan was really there or not.
And then, everything was black.
Author:
lalalive23Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Warning: Language
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 (well, not yet). I don't make money off this. My whole life is a waste lol.
Note: Ok. So. A couple things. This is Matt's car: I want to fuck this car with everything I am. Also. I put a lot of time and research into the process of cryogenic freezing and the chemistry. It might not seem like it in this chapter, but trust me, it will appear later. Also, Matt is a twatwaffle. If he offends you, I'm sorry, but he gets better. He's just a bitter guy lol. Annnd, now I must thank
sunshine_173, seethedream, and millionstar for reading this over as it came and cheering me on. I love them <3 And now we shall read!!Prologue
I took my time leaving the house in the morning. Because I'm a sentimental bastard, I made sure to get dressed slowly, to walk slowly, and took every inch of my house in before I left. Not that I'm a material person, but in the absence of actual people to care about, my things were what kept me company.
My unused grand piano (because I was wealthy and wanted to be gauche), my Eta dishwasher (because I was a scientist and cared about the environment) and my SmartFridge (because I fucking need to eat). These were the things that mattered to me, sad as it is. And I was leaving them behind.
Come to think of it, I actually think it took me twenty minutes just to make toast because I stood in my kitchen staring at all my shit.
Maybe it was the overwhelming sense of nostalgia I was dealing with, but I found myself craving one last hit of Necozine. I could almost imagine the effects of it just standing still. I didn't go through with it, though, and left it under the loose floorboard underneath my bed.
Why?
Because I'm not a dumbass. Contrary to whatever you might be thinking, I'm actually extremely smart just a bit reckless. Shooting up six hours ago was a gamble on my part, considering there was no proof that any residual chemicals would be left in my body. And if there were, there was no proof that they would react with the cryoprotectant circulating through my blood in nearly 4 hours.
If you were a therapist, you could assume that my hesitation to leave the house was really my subconscious telling me not to go through with the experiment. But you aren't. And so, again, I say fuck you.
And even though I spent all that time running my hands over my touch-counter, and watching the self-cleaning pool…self-clean, the only thing I really didn't want to leave behind was my car.
My Audi SR8. Also known as Helena. She was my gift to myself the year before, after I had officially volunteered, and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her personal assistant service never back talked, her SatNav never failed, and she even remembered my birthday.
If you ask me, I never needed another human relationship.
For the last time in my long life, I swiped my finger along the pad to wake her up. The engine purred and the car raised itself a few inches above ground.
"Welcome back, Matthew."
The console glowed an appealing blue, the car coming to life beneath my hands.
My heart swelled. "Thank you, Helena. Today is our last day together."
"Yes. I remember. You told me this last year."
Oh, Helena. You were always so attentive.
I sighed. Best be getting on with it. "To the ISH, please."
"Of course."
I enjoyed the last smooth ride I would ever have in my car, making myself comfortable in the plush leather. Leaving her was nearly impossible, knowing that she would be turned into recyclable metal at 5PM that day made my heart break. I took several minutes before I exited, stroking the steering pad with my palm. I wanted one last conversation with the love of my life.
"I'm going to miss you Helena." I felt like I was dying.
She said nothing. Helena didn't process human emotions.
"See you soon?" I tried.
"I will always wait for you, Matthew."
That was exactly what I wanted to hear.
On my way towards the building, I fell into step with Amber, a geneticist from the third floor. I took a second to admire her and briefly felt depressed. I would never get the chance to fuck her. What a shame. In one hundred years, she would be dead and gone, and her fantastic tits will be little more than a memory. Again, what a shame.
"I don't really know what to say." She turned to look at me as we scanned our fingerprint ID cards into the door before pressing our thumbs to the pad to make a match. "Good luck seems hardly appropriate."
Christ, she had a fantastic mouth.
I humored her with a smile. "Well, with any luck I might actually live."
I'm pretty sure that put her off the conversation entirely. She moved her head in something akin to a sombre nod and almost ran away from me through the door.
What the fuck was I supposed to say? 'Gee thanks. But don't worry, I'll be fine?' Fucking no. I'm not gonna lie, not about my mortality. You can't sugar coat that shit as much as you can't avoid it.
Walking through the building felt like walking through death row. The eyes watching me and the whispers. I didn't stop to talk with anyone, and took the stairs to the fifth floor to avoid any awkward situation that would manifest in the lifts.
I swiped my keycard as the doors slid open, 8:00AM on the dot, and I paused. From my view in the doorway, I could see most of the lab had been emptied to make room for the large cases of coolant; emptied and cleaned as though preparing for a funeral party. Everything was so sterile.
When I entered, everyone went quiet and they turned their eyes to me. They didn't do anything. They just sat there and watched me like I was going to start crying. That was fucking irritating.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." I rolled my eyes. Fucking drama queens.
I barely got my hands on my lab coat before my usual routine was interrupted.
"Hi, Dr. Bellamy."
I paused with my hand on my coat and stared at the wall. "Daniel. I thought we were going to pretend today was a normal day."
Fucking interns.
"I know, sir, you did say that." I could hear him shifting awkwardly, his shoes sliding together on the floor.
I fixed my gaze on him and he colored. As a boy, he'd idolized my work and claimed that it was what got him into science to begin with. He willingly admitted to anyone who asked that he took the internship so he could watch me work first hand. While most of the other lab technicians admired his enthusiasm, I didn't. In my eyes, he took the internship for all the wrong reasons.
In my eyes, I wanted him out.
"So then what about this interaction is normal?"
He was silent for a brief second. "Right. I'll, ah, leave you alone."
I could sense he was a bit hurt, considering this was our last day together for the rest of his natural life. Part of me almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
I know you're thinking I'm a dick. And I agree, you're actually right. I am a dick. But that's a blanket statement for my general nature. You're probably wondering why I was such a rude bastard to Daniel. Allow me to explain.
In my world, science was everything. It was a back and forth space where every time I ran an experiment, I was holding a conversation with the fabric of the universe. Constantly changing and moving, yet under my control. Infinitely more beautiful and more complex than your mother's Coq Au Vin recipe. And when you're in my world, you aren't there to fuck around and follow me around like a lost puppy. In my world, you take an internship to change yourself, not reaffirm something you already know is true. If Daniel had said, 'I'm here to learn,' then at least I would have respected him.
But he didn't. And therefore, I couldn't find it in me to give a single fuck about his childish idealism.
He scuttled away, a droop in his shoulders, only to be replaced a second later by Nathan.
I tugged on my coat with a sigh.
"You're wearing so many layers, Bellamy. Why bother when you have to take 'em off in an hour?"
I snorted. "I bet you would love to see me walk around naked all morning, just for your pleasure."
His laugh was brief and I could tell it was fake. It didn't reach his eyes. After working with him for ten years, I knew when he was feigning humor to avoid tension. Of course he would revert to the first inside joke we ever formed, the one about how we were hot for each other. While it was true that he was a homosexual and my dick carried a preference for one of it's own kind, not once did we cross a line that went beyond professional friendship. And even if he had tried, I doubt I would been mad. He was brilliant, irritating at times, but he got shit done. If it weren't for him, this project wouldn't have seen the light of day for another fifteen years.
He handed me the glass board containing my files, and I slipped on the finger pad that was in my pocket to manipulate the charts. We walked towards the table in silence, and as I slid onto my stool I heard him sigh.
"What is it?" I didn't bother to look at him. I didn't very much care to know if he was getting weepy.
"Are you sure you don't want to put this off? Even for a month?"
It was my turn to sigh. "Nate," I said, finally meeting his gaze. "We put this off for six months because you were worried we hadn't done enough research. I know your dick gets hard at the prospect of theorizing, but there comes a time when theory needs to be put to practice. And I say that time is now."
"Matt -"
Fuck it. I cut him off. "I did not sell this company my formula ten years ago to sit here and beat off to a fantasy that I won't see come to fruition. We have never been more prepared. The protectant is flawless in every trial run, and none of the tissue in the Veldilator has died. We do this today."
He fixed me with a hard stare, which I returned in kind. If this was how he wanted to be, fine. If he wanted to back out, that was cool too. I'd do this shit myself.
"It's not the research I'm worried about, Matt, it's you."
I returned my eyes to my forms, swiping aimlessly at the reports that I had already filled out meticulously. "I've seen the company therapist, Nate. I've been cleared."
"How hard did you fuck her to pass?"
I smiled at the laugh in his voice. "He passed me because it turns out I'm relatively sane. And I fucked him hard enough garner a second appointment."
"Lucky for you being a prick isn't a mental illness."
The laugh we shared allowed the atmosphere to return to normal, and I was glad we could at least operate with some ease.
Unfortunately, there wasn't much for me to do. There really never is for the test subject. I spent the last hour before moving to prep flicking through my reports and admiring my work. It really was brilliant.
See, I wasn't lying when I told you I was smart. By all rights, I'm a certifiable genius - and that isn't the arrogance talking. Well, maybe it is.
For years, cryogenic freezing was used only for the dead or brain dead. If their corpse was in good enough condition, they essentially became a human vegetable patch - organs and cells ripe for harvest. Then, maybe forty years ago, a scientist named Kristopher van Wilkhen developed a formula with cybernetic nitrogen that allowed living organic tissue to be kept in a frozen state for up to ten years. In his age, he was a living god.
This process allowed the sick or terminally ill to be put on pause, their life's timeline delayed, while researchers and doctors developed curse for their diseases. Today, most human's are blessed with the gift of dying naturally.
This is where it gets good. See, I'm an attention seeking little twat, and having someone else, someone dead no less, steal all the limelight in scientific culture simply wouldn't do. When I was 18, and too smart for my own fucking good, I one upped van Wlkhen - which isn't hard with a stupid name like that.
By tampering with the basic aspects of his formula, I developed a whole new process, using entirely different math and chemistry, that had the potential to keep organic tissue in stasis for one hundred years, perhaps more. Once I told the right people I potentially had the code of liquid life, well, it wasn't long before the money, the honorary doctorates, and the job offers started coming.
I told you I was smart.
The last ten years of my life were dedicated to the development, advancement, and production of advanced cryogenics. Countless nights and hours were poured into perfecting my formulas and building the right machines to keep the cells alive long enough. We'd tested on single cell organisms first, simple life, before moving upwards. It was a slow process with a lot of carnage along the way. Eventually, we started getting it right. Once we got it right multiple times in a row, we moved to mammals.
And now, I was the first human to be tested.
I know it sounds sick, that I've become my experiment. It actually sounds fucking morbid. But I don't have a death wish. I just want to silence the world for a few years and prove myself right in the process. And if I die? Well, what a way to go.
At nine-thirty, I moved into the prep room. I clicked the button to fog the glass as I removed my clothes. I should have felt nervous or sick to my stomach….or just something. Instead, I was completely numb. Outside the doors, I heard my co-workers muttering.
"One hundred years is a long time."
Aren't you a fucking bright one. Figure that out on your own, did you?
"What would drive him to volunteer?"
That is none of your goddamn business.
"What if something goes wrong?"
Then you better damn well fix it.
I slid on the neoprene briefs that would protect my dick and smiled. That felt really nice. Maybe in a hundred years I could take them outside the building to wear under my trousers. I lulled a moment, regarding my black clothes in a heap on the floor. Folding my lab coat, I placed it on the table before I draped the company robe over myself and stepped out into the holding room.
Nothing about the room was welcoming. Tables moved, except for one, hooks and cables, needles and silver metal all waiting for me to come in and die.
Nathan stood in the corner of the room, dressed completely in white, next to the large tube that was to hold my body in liquid nitrogen. I suddenly felt very claustrophobic.
In silence, I walked over to the table and sat on it. I felt my heart start to race, pounding in my ears and wished that the sounds of metal on metal would block it out. I hated that everyone was being so fucking careful. If only they would make some fucking noise, then I could pretend everything was fine.
"So. I guess…lay down." Nate sounded awkward and unsure of himself saying the words, even though we had rehearsed this process a thousand and one times. He knew his lines as well as I did. Well, he had significantly more. All I had to do was nod and try not to go into cardiac arrest.
I wasn't sure whose job was more difficult.
Following his instructions, I stripped off the robe and laid down, a shiver coursing through me as my back touched cold steel.
I watched, my head turned to my right, as Nate took my beautiful liquid, the specific cryoprotectant I'd developed just for this process and filled it in the syringe. The perfectionist in me wanted to do it. As much as I trusted him, it felt wrong handing everything I worked on over to someone who could easily make a mistake.
He lingered over me for several minutes before he finally spoke.
"Ok, we are going to start with the morphine. 2000mg."
Beth, a comely girl who had only started working at the ISH two years ago came to my left and passed the IV into my hand. I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing at all.
Nate stared at the timer that had taken up the screen on the wall, waiting for it to be precisely 10:00AM. The seconds clicked by and I became more and more drowsy. My sense of time was becoming blurred and I began to smile.
A shrill beeping overwhelmed the room before Nate swiped the timer away. He brought his eyes back to me. My smile faded.
"Are you ready?" He smiled at me and, again, it was fake. I wanted to punch the expression off his face.
"Such a smart guy shouldn't ask dumb questions."
He kept speaking. I couldn't understand why he was walking me through the process - whether it was to ease his conscious or if he thought I'd forgotten it in the course of 24 hours. I designed this shit. I knew exactly what was going to happen.
"Alright." He covered his face with a surgical mask and showed me the syringe containing cryoprotectant. "This won't hurt a bit."
Now he was just being crass.
"Don't lie to me," I frowned. "It doesn't look good on you."
"You're right. This is going to hurt like a bitch." It was the final thing he said before he pushed the needle into my vein.
Initially I thought nothing was happening. In fact, I almost laughed.
And then I started contemplating suicide. Death became a more appealing option than suffering through the agony of allowing cryoprotectant into my body. And that was with a few extra doses of morphine. I couldn't tell if the pain was maximized from the Necozine left hanging around or if I was just a pussy. Probably both.
I was blinded as the pain hit me like a mack truck. I wanted to puke, I wanted to cry. Every inch of me felt like it was being ripped from the inside out. My right wrist started to spasm violently. I curled my hands into fists to stop the movement, and I think my nails pierced the skin. My bones were trembling, starting to ache, and I bit my tongue hard enough to bleed over a scream.
I stared up at Nathan. His sad fucking green eyes and his perfect fucking flesh. I fucking hated him. He should have tried harder to talk me out of this. The bastard. I wanted to beat the shit out of him, and I would have if all my muscles weren't in the process of what felt like decaying, being ripped off the bone and re-sewn in one motion.
In a brief moment of clarity, I realized the difference between knowing the science of something and experiencing it. Knowing what was happening made it worse. Saying it and feeling it at the same time heightens your focus on it, until you can pick it apart second by second as you walk yourself through it. It isn't comforting. Not in the fucking slightest.
And while you're picking it apart, time seems to slow. It was only supposed to last 30 seconds. That's the blink of an eye. Instead I sat there dying on a table, praying to a god I didn't believe in to get me out of the fire, for what felt like an eternity. Time can go fuck itself.
Eventually, the pain began to ease and I became light headed. My vision blurred and I was unable to tell if Nathan was really there or not.
And then, everything was black.
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no subject
Date: 2011-11-17 05:44 pm (UTC)I also really like his exchange with Daniel. Lays a great cornerstone of his personality.
My sense of time was becoming blurred and I began to smile.
Great detail -- both a taste of what's coming, and a cruel, false sense of comfort. And God, the description of everything post-injection was spot-on. It's that moment when you want to turn to the people running the show and ask if it's normal to be feeling this much agony, but you can't. In this case, because it's literally never been done to any living being who can answer that question. Fucking scary.
"Twatwaffle" though he may be (I'd never heard that one before; me LOL long time!), I think the end of this chapter proves he really is quite smart. Or retrospectively conscientious, at least, lol...
I can't wait to see where this is going. XD
no subject
Date: 2011-12-24 12:49 am (UTC)The thing about Matt is that he just doesn't like bullshit. He wants you to work for what you want and what you think you deserve because you can't be spoonfed. Science is his lover (at the moment heee) and he wants it to be respected.
He knows he's smart. But he doesn't realize that he's spent so much time learning knowledge that his personality has suffered. He'll get kicked into shape soon :D
*BIG HUGS*