One-Minute Eternity

Written by Kay

12:00

The numbers burn in an unnaturally red light and sears the darkness of my dreams. I think I will never forget those numbers. Each little pixel of light will never fade. For me, eternity is life. For me, eternity lasts but a minute.

I remember the frozen chamber. Mist laced the tundra-floor, tugging at my naked heels like the little hands of an eager child. They were cold hands: cold, cold hands. Dead, dead child. The gray was an anesthetic of its own, blending the silvery fog and the pearly slices of ice-wind. The shrill throbbing that racked my body slowed, slowed, slowed, almost down an octave, ‘till but a dull, drumming, ache remained.

I dared not move anything but my snow-tipped eyelashes, and even each blade of hair was reluctant to shatter the stillness.

A labyrinth of pipes slithered along the shimmering ceiling of ice and hissed, hissed, hissed out gusts of subzero air, sounding just like snakes. I recalled the Bible. Those pipes hissed, hissed, just like the serpent whose hissing got Adam kicked out of Eden. Everything reminded me of gas chambers, sort of like the ones that Hitler used to kill off the Jews. They were innocent as they could be; they were God’s children -- or so they say.

What am I to challenge death?

I am the manifestation of the first fall of man.

Because they are the ones who will steal our souls. They will bring about the second destruction of man.

Nevertheless, the prospect of now overruled the prospect of eternity. It is the sin of humans. It is the sin of God.

The digital clock read

11:58

. The red color was hot against my eyes -- such a sharp contrast in that misty limbo.

The hyperbolic structure in the far corner gleamed blue-white like a radioactive pearl, small enough to fit in this chamber of ice and steel, big enough to encase a body. It was round and fat, shaped like a loaf of bread freshly baked and steaming. Yes, it steamed, that structure, but not because of the heat.

Heat is destructive, they told me. Even if my fucking dick was about to freeze and fall off, the heat was still destructive.

My daughter would not have said that, though. She loved the sunlight. She loved the warmth. Her hair was a golden tangle of warm, honeyed light.

A small beep. Another minute.

11:59

.

The figure approached me, movements lax and full of effort in that thick, white suit. Its head was composed of shimmering black glass (protective glass) just in case the chemicals splattered over its face. I remember for that one freakish moment, I thought these bastards had blasted me off to some faraway planet, maybe Pluto, and aliens were approaching me.

But that Plutonian astronaut spoke in its androgynous voice, dragging me from the stars and toward the cold, hard earth.

“Are you ready, sir?”

The voice seemed mechanic. Maybe because it was the cold.

And for that moment, after countless hours of reassuring myself before, I wondered: Am I truly ready to live? I’m young. I’m me. I’m dying.

I’m a coward.

A nod, and the white figure gently led me toward the hyperbolic structure, and behind it, that small, mechanic puddle built upon the glory of science.

Boiling water. Freezing nitrogen.

The being behind me chuckled. “The spring of eternal youth, sir.”

And I scowled, but I stepped in. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. I thought I was dying. Cold. Cold. I prayed that I was dying.

The clock beeped.

12:00
(again)

.

Cold.

Cold.

Cold…just like the voice over the intercom.

“Patient number 1-8-3-6-4-9-4, diagnosed with fatalities, frozen under proper legislation at Cryogenics Industries, 12:00 AM. To be recovered at an undetermined date under undetermined circumstances…”

The image is still there, that eerily red 12:00. Why is it though? Had time stopped out there as well as in here in this hyperbolic coffin?

I don’t feel the pain anymore. I don’t vomit blood. I taste nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing, smell nothing, and see nothing…except for the time.

My mind wanders sometimes, though, to the days under the sun. I remember the golden ringlets of hair that bounced with each skip, with each giggle. Amazing how the smile of a little girl can produce so much warmth for me even in this nothing prison. Strange how a little girl can fear nothing while I can fear so many things. Though both trapped in coffins, I feel as I’m the one who’s truly dead.

I’d give anything to feel the sunlight once more on my skin instead of this heavy, impassive darkness. I’d give anything to be able feel the pain that once tormented me.

I desire the cure to now. I desire salvation from eternity. I’d give anything to see that 12:00 become 12:01. It’s the sin of…me.

Because I am in eternity.

And eternity lasts but a minute.

finis.

End Notes: For those who didn’t know, this story is making an abstract reference to cryonics (optimistic immortalism) and cryogenics (a branch of science that has to do with anything cold). There are many inaccuracies in this story, especially the part where the man is to be frozen. I’m not at all familiar with the process of freezing a person, and I’m sure that a person would not survive naked in the temperature in which liquid nitrogen boils. However, please do excuse these inaccuracies, and try to enjoy the story by theme, not technicalities.

All the best,
Kay

(June 21, 2005)