Lab-coats and electron pushers-jumped about the room. They pushed buttons and set dials, calling out technical terms to each other. Everything was centered around a singular pod of thick aluminum alloy. “Begin procedure.” A woman beside the head doctor clacked at her keyboard and a scanning process began on her screen. The whole room paused and waited for her to read out what she saw:
Cell Health—Within Repairable Parameters.
DNA Health—No Detectable Degradation.
Tissue Health—Healthy For Advanced Age.
Bone Health—Healthy For Advanced Age.
Cognitive Lattice Integrity: Ninety-seven-point-two Percent Preserved—Within Acceptable Parameters.
The readout scrolled beyond the limits of the screen. Any deviation was met with immediate nanoscale correction. “Vitals look good, start the pump.” Iron-oxide nanoparticles pumped from a small tank directly into the pod, bringing the saturation in the pod to a far higher level than it needed for simple maintenance. “Magnets on, let’s hope we heeded the warning signs.” The hum began gently at first, but quickly intensified and small pieces of metal from the pockets of big-brains trembled. The screens around the room showed the outline of a body. It was a deep blue—for hours. Team members took shifts monitoring the body. This process continued for days, though no one went home—no one wanted to; who would want to miss the breakthrough of the millennium. Over the course of three days, the body moved towards a more cyan as the magnets excited the nanoparticles. A junior technician called out. “Body warming evenly, Dr. Sarrow, at negative ten C.”
“Accelerate it, wash out the cryoprotectants, start oxygenated synthetic perfusate, then pump in new blood.” It had taken centuries, several world governments, and a lot of money; but it was finally time. “Everyone, get ready, we’ve got to make a good impression!” This man had given so much to the foundation over the years, on the condition that he would be the first to be thawed when the technology was there. It seemed a bit self-centered to Dr. Sarrow.
A skeleton crew was left on the machinery, the rest were busy throwing up banners and bringing in tables, drinks, foods, and all manner of party favors. “Warming at seventy-five percent.” Dr. Sarrow smiled with not just professional pride, but personal too. A long line of men and women had tried to crack this problem, and it was him that finally did it. “Warming complete, beginning coma wake-up procedure.” He straightened his tie, patted at his lab coat to make sure that no hair nor dust adorned him.
Within the aluminum, centuries-old neurons began to fire once more, a slow crawl back to consciousness. Several minutes dripped away without any more progress. The whole room had stopped what they were doing, not even a hammer and chisel could pry any of them away. Those off the clock filtered into the room, jostling each other and fighting for a good view. Despite the fullness, there was never a more silent room in the history of man.
The man in the tube’s eyelids spasmed, first the right, then the left. There was a glossy look to them at first, but they regained their color over the course of a few moments—a brilliant, light grey-blue. Stabilizing to a tight squint, his pupils grew and shrank and lazily drifted around the room. The overly bright laboratory lights dimmed for his benefit. His dilating evened out. “Can he see us?” A woman broke the silence next to Dr. Sarrow. “No, not right now, at least if this is following the rules of a coma. Though this is uncharted territory, Dr. Paige.” She nodded, never taking her eyes off of the man in the tube.
The room parted, and some left the room, to allow a cameraman in. The camera was set up next to the head doctor. “How’s he doing, doc?” Dr. Sarrow sighed and bit his lip. “Hard to say, Neil. Things look good now, but there could be a crash at any time.” The cameraman nodded and peered through his cam-sight, making sure the man was centered in frame, in focus.
The room went silent again. The man sputtered without rhythm, coughing through his nose. His chest was moving, but he had not yet relearned how to breathe.
“Dr. Paige, report?” She jumped and snapped to her monitor. “Blood flow normal, and he’s attempting to breathe and scans show that his tongue is moving randomly in his mouth; I believe that he’s trying to swallow?” Several surrounding physicians were looking over her shoulder at the screen, almost bumping over the camera.
In the commotion, the man’s ears began to twitch, to the beat of the magnet's gentle whirs. One of his eyes would go wide suddenly, the other remaining half-lidded, followed by the other following suit. He was still unfocused.
“Is that drool? Is that a good sign?” Neil looked up from his sight at Dr. Paige and Sarrow. “Looks like it. Might be good, might not be. Sarrow, should we open the pod and intubate him?” Dr. Sarrow brought his hand up and tapped at his temple. He stared intently at the man in the pod. His lazy eyes momentarily focused on Dr. Sarrow before they drifted back into that murky expression.
“Yes, open it. We’re not gonna let him choke on his own spit after all this.”
Two of the assembled doctoral staff moved forward to the pod. They leaned in close to examine the man inside. Despite his time in deep freeze, he did not look frail. The drool was coming out in higher volume, his mouth was now slightly agape. “Slide it open, let’s get him out of there.” Dr. Sarrow called from the back of the room, at this, Neil picked up his camera and approached them.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The casing slid open upwards, a screaming hiss from the venting gases filtered into the room. He had to wipe thin films of frost that had coalesced onto the lens several times. One of the men pulled out a small cloth to dab up the spit trailing down the old man’s face. The other positioned his pen light above him, shining it into his eyes. They dilated and tracked the light with little enthusiasm, the pupils seeming to lag behind the rest of the eye as they did so; but they were fully open now—wide open, almost frightening. The old man looked scared, like he was dead and his face was frozen in that final moment of terror.
For him, the fresh, cold air of the sterile room felt both intoxicating, and as if he was being torn to shreds by an ice storm. The LEDs burned his eyes, not just from brightness, but from their constant rapid flicker. His eyes could move, though not much of his own accord; his entire body was otherwise stuck rigid. He could feel the warming of new blood entering his arteries, feeling as if his entire body was drinking a just brewed coffee—he could not wait to drink it once more. But that mild heat did not stop, it grew hotter and hotter—fire, he could feel fire inside of his skin; it was seeping into every part of his being.
He tried to scream, nothing. He tried to get up and run from the fire inside him, nothing. He stayed locked in place, despite his brain yelling for him to run. He scooped up air quickly, unable to keep it within himself; his lungs wouldn’t work. He could only manage rapid, spasmodic sucks and blasts of air through his aching nose. His pain level rose and dipped as his nerves continued to wake up from their long sleep. He could make out muddy shapes of people in front of him, they were speaking—that much he could tell, however what they were saying was still an enigma to him. It was only an incoherent mix of babbles and ‘whale songs.’
“How does he look?” One of the group asked from the back. “Indignant, but definitely conscious now, at least somewhat.” The pen light man answered. “Calling in a gurney, let’s get him to a proper rejuvenate-room.” The group remained still.
“That means clear out, everyone.” Dr. Paige spoke up, on the verge of pushing the people out herself. They followed her orders, and soon the room was empty, save for the necessary members of the team. The two men that were by the old man had left with the crowd and returned with a gurney, which they rolled into position in front of the capsule. “Gently now, his vitals looked good, but some parts of his body could still be fragile.” Paige watched over them, hands clasped. One of the two men lifted the fossil so that the other could slip a thin blanket under him. They used that sheet to lift him out of his aluminum coffin without touching him, and he was placed onto the gurney. Simple for those in the waking world, but the sudden feeling of being under the effect of gravity once more sent his mind spiraling, the movement from diagonal pod to horizontal bed made him want to vomit—but he could only hang his mouth open slackly as his body thought it heaved the nothing in his stomach as he tried to keep his tongue from falling down his own throat.
He was now blinking very slowly. Staring up at the four doctors and into the lens of the bulky camera, he was now moving his lower jaw up and down by only a centimeter of two in a vaguely rhythmic jutting, but never fully closing it again. “Cover him up, he deserves at least some dignity for what he’s gone through. Let’s get him to his room—it is ready, right?” Dr. Paige affirmed and got the door for them. Their patient was pushed calmly out of the room, and into the hallway full of the awestruck doctors who had been in the room, paparazzi, and even the odd government officials.
The onlookers battled each other to get a better look. Several men almost pushed Dr. Sarrow to hit them, and Neil did smash the camera of one of them, shooing away the rest of the non-medical staff; though he allowed one of the government men to join their entourage to their room—along with several of his personal guard.
It was not very ostentatious. A simple, single bed medical room—with the best medical tech that even kings would find it hard to get their hands on surrounding his bed. He was lifted with the sheet once more into his hospital bed, which had been lowered to make it easier. The two men pulled the gurney out of the room and left Doctors Sarrow and Paige alone with the official and the old man. “So, how did it all go? Smoothly?” The man had a tired smile as he shook both of the doctors’ hands. “It’s uncharted territory, there’s no telling what he felt during all of that, but physically speaking—he’s at least stable. For now.”
“Don’t sound so dour, Dr. Sarrow. As a politician, I know how hard it can be to play God.” His chuckle brought a warmer grin to his thin face, a grin that spread to both doctors. “I guess so. Guess his awakening party is going to have to wait. Are you going to stay here, President? Or would you prefer me to give you a ring when he’s really up.”
“I’m a very busy man, and though I would love to be here to greet this marvel of a man, I have to get back to work. You two are a credit to your profession, and to you, Mr. Montaigne, if you can hear me, I bid you farewell, and hope that the future here is all that you hoped it would be.” The President shook their hands once more, and snuck out of the room. His guards kept the press at bay from him, and the room. Dr. Paige locked the door and fell apart in one of the supplied chairs by the door. Dr. Sarrow looked at the old man in the bed. “I’m glad that politicking jack-ape is out of here.” Dr. Paige looked to her colleague. “You dislike the President?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t. Not entirely. Just don’t like him using something like this for his campaign. It’s undignified.” She nodded, and she looked to the old man with Dr. Sarrow.
Once, he was one of the richest men in his time—earning his wealth young, he funded the research to perfect cryonics in his lifetime. He had succeeded.
He, Rafael Montaigne, was the Man Who Cheated Death.
