FRANK STEIN –
UNFROZEN
By Travis E. Hughes
When the news broke that the cure for cancer had finally
been achieved, Mary Wollen Stein wasn't thinking about her husband who had died
so many years before, but instead she thought of her niece Alliah, who would
now be saved. But it was a phone call from the Cryonics Institute that reminded
her of her obligation. Her husband had achieved great things in his short life.
A billionaire by the age of thirty, Frank Stein had ensured his family's legacy
for generations to come. But all that money couldn't stop the cancer from
taking him at age thirty-seven. It was a family secret, one forged out of
embarrassment perhaps, that her husband had made arrangements to be
cryogenically frozen in liquid nitrogen just as he was dying, fifty years
before. Once the cure was announced, the cryo-lab had set about making several
phone calls to families who's loved ones had died from the disease.
Mary made no public announcement. She didn't even tell her
children or grandchildren about it. She'd always been skeptical of the whole
thing and assumed that instead of being buried or cremated, Frank had simply
been frozen, but either way he was long dead and gone. She'd remarried, twice,
once divorced and the second left her widowed. She'd seen more life without
Frank than with him. She was pleased that her third husband Tom hadn't been
frozen.
It took her a few days to respond to the lab, but on a cold
rainy morning she made the drive to Boston from Manhattan to be there when they
revived her first husband. The place felt very sterile and the acrid stench of
chemicals clung to the air as she was ushered through plastic curtains into a
large room. A metal tank had been wheeled into the room and a hose drained away
the liquid nitrogen, slowly as the body was gradually warmed. Still feeling the
shock of anticipation commingling with fear and skepticism, she waited as the
body was carefully lifted out of the tank and placed on the table. Several
tubes were attached and a blood transfusion pumped the thawing body full of not
only fresh blood but mixed in it was the nanotechnology responsible for eating
the tumors and the cancer cells. Seeing Frank there on the table became
overwhelming and she threatened to pass out. To what end would this venture
take? His body had been preserved at thirty-seven, she was in her late eighties.
What was the point of it all? More questions than answers swirled her brain as
the procedure continued into the hours.
Finally, well into the night, with only a doctor, a lab tech
and two assistants, Mary stood as they set about reviving her long dead
husband. "His vitals are good," said the doctor to the tech. "We
are waiting consciousness."
And then, in the wee hours of the morning, Frank's eyes
blinked and his fingers twitched. His toes curled and his mouth sucked in a
deep draught of air. She could feel her limbs tingle and again the threat of passing
out washed over her.
"Mr. Stein?" asked the doctor. "Can you hear
me?" Frank eyes blinked open. They were pale and watery. But more
than pale, they were dead. Lifeless. Frank slowly looked around the room, a
frown of confusion his only expression.
"Can you speak?" asked the doctor. But Frank
remained frowning and contemplative.
"Have you done this before?" asked Mary, standing
to get a better view. But the lack of an answer concerned her. "Have
you ever revived anyone before? What can we expect here?"
"We have not," the doctor finally said. "You
were the first family member to oblige the patient's wishes."
"What place is this?" Frank's former body asked.
It was enough to startle everyone in the room, but the one startled the most
was Mary. Frank's voice... It wasn't Frank's voice at all. Frank had a slight
New York accent, having grown up in Brooklyn. This sounded nearly English.
"What manner of witchcraft do you play at?" Frank
asked trying to sit up, but failing due to muscle atrophy. Mary screamed and
covered her mouth.
"Who is this man?" she asked finally. "What
is your name?"
Frank slowly turned his dead, pale eyes to her. It sent ice
shards down her spine.
"I am Emptiness. I am Despair," whispered Frank's
mouth in an English accent. Mary screamed and hurried out of the lab and down
the long corridor. She wanted to run, but her aging body would no longer allow
for that, so she walked as briskly as she could. She felt her hips pop,
bone against raw bone. Once in her car, she looked back at the tall, unassuming
building with its grey brick and subtle sign that read; Cryonics Institute. The
lights flickered in the windows and then the streetlight snapped off with a
spark. Screaming again, she floored her car and missed the turn. Her car
careened off the road and down an embankment.
