Phoenix in Ice
By Nelly Asher
Copyright 2014 by Nelly Asher
It was four below zero on the thermometer behind the window, and Justine wanted to put on a wool sweater, but quickly changed her mind. Though warm, it's boring, worn for a whole week already, so it's better to change into something fancier. The girl pulled on a thin rose-colored turtleneck sweater with black pattern that was fitting her body flatteringly. She put on boots and fur coat right in the room – didn't want to make a noise in the hallway and draw her mother's attention. Mom wouldn't have let her out at this time of the night... Justine picked up the boombox, the packet with a bottle and sneaked out.
Yes, mom suspects something for sure. Even though Justine never came home late, was always finding plausible excuses as to where she spent her time – it was hard to overlook that she feels herself much happier than usual. This person, a tall man with dark red hair, brought a meaning, a purpose into her life. One day he took a sit next to her in a café, saying that he can't walk past a pure soul in disarray. They had long conversations, but with him Justine didn't feel the flow of time – hours flew by like minutes. The man never introduced himself, even when she openly asked how to call him – he replied that names don't matter, ideas are what's important. He was narrating about the life around, about the miracles of nature, about how precious purity and innocence are. All of this was incredibly important to him, to people who shared the same views, one of which the girl has become in time. She got imbued with these ideas and wanted to help those people, especially the man she loved. People from their community did something like that before. Justine hasn't told anything about her decision, she knew that he realized everything, but didn't try to dissuade her. In the end of the meeting that turned out to be their last one he embraced her tight and kissed for the first time, saying: "Unfortunately, you will remember me only until the next New Year". Of course, she actually wouldn't have forgotten about him till her very death...
Recalling this, Justine couldn't hold her smile and tears. Some of her companions in jolty train ride were looking at her askew, but most of them paid no attention. These people are into their own business, never looking around, never realizing what an unnatural abomination grows and gets stronger by their side... They need to be warned.
Justine came out of the subway to the central square, took off her fur coat, put it on the snowdrift near the roadside, placed the boombox on it and turned the record on. The girl headed to the center of the square, pouring the colorless liquid from the juice bottle on herself.
"Listen to us," her voice on the record said. "Miracel corporation is a devil's trick! They pervert the human nature, take the dead out of their graves!"
It was freezing enough on the street, and in wet closes the wind was just chilling to the marrow. But it'll get hot soon... Without the slightest hesitation, Justine struck a lighter.
***
Mark and Dorothy Torsen were having dinner at home when another news report started on TV.
"Last night the third shocking protest against Miracel corporation has occurred. This time a girl has set herself on fire, but was rescued. Our correspondent reports from the press-conference where Milla Selion, company's executive director, made a speech".
"Oh, the horror," Dorothy crinkled her nose. "Why do we watch TV while we eat anyway?"
"We usually don't, but we argued a bit an hour ago, and in a mutual undeclared decision turned the TV on, because it's better than an awkward silence at the table," replied Mark in a voice of robotic answering machine.
"What a hubby I have, everanalysing," woman laughed. "You know, even though your straightforwardness rubs me the wrong way sometimes, I just can't be upset at it... Wait, is that you?" she exclaimed when a short sequence of people sitting in the hall flashed on a screen.
"What a wife I have, so observing," he grinned. "I have nothing to do with this company's case, but I was on press-conference with my journalist friend, because this story piqued my interest – it gives something to think about."
"Really? What happened there?" Dorothy's eyes sparkled. Both spouses were keen on discussing interesting and controversial issues – this very habit has brought them together, even though it caused serious arguments sometimes. "I've heard about these suicides, but I didn't know the details."
"Actually, I also have nothing but the general information... About two months ago a woman cut her throat near the monument of city founders. In a couple of weeks a man jumped off a bridge. And yesterday this girl makes a self-immolation attempt – unlike two others, survives, but with severe burns, synthetic clothes fused into the skin..." Mark stopped short, noticing how his wife ceases chewing. "They'll prosecute an inquiry when the girl will be able to speak. They weren't able to establish any connection between those people, but their cases have a lot in common. Shortly before the suicide all of them were turning on a record where they accused Miracel of profanity, because it changes the natural human body, "resurrects the dead", heals the crippled, gives sight to the blind – in summary, tries to pose as God, meddling with the state of affairs that the Lord created. And into the bargain, they were speaking of themselves in plural, like on behalf of some group."
"Seems like fanatics of a religious sect," Dorothy assumed. Meanwhile, Miracel's executive director spoke from the box again:
"Yes, response to our activity has always been ambiguous, though we never could imagine that the protests will turn so barbaric," the voice of copper-haired woman sounded soft but confident. "Our specialists work successfully, due to our implants hundreds of people were given a new life. Fear of unknown is human nature, but none could stand in evolution's way."
"...Religious fanatics?" Mark repeated. "Perhaps, and it's the first thing that comes to mind. Investigation found that the victims weren't satisfied with their lives, prone to depressions, and such people have a greater chance to fall under someone's influence. Besides, judging by various indications, they had a high suggestibility... and, most probably, hypnoability."
"Do you think someone had hypnotized them, and all of this happened not because of their own will and persuasions?" Dorothy raised her eyebrows. "But, as far as I heard, even under hypnosis person can't perform something he or she stands strongly against?"
"The first woman had two unaccomplished suicide attempts, most likely a way to draw attention. I don't know about two others, but it's quite possible that propensities were similar. At least here I don't see the contradiction."
"So, some sect turns people into zombies and sends them to death to damage the reputation of a profane corporation... Do they really rival gods themselves?" she asked skeptically.
"It isn't ruled out," Mark replied. "Company was created by a group of scientists more than fifteen years ago, and provided all sorts of physiological and psychological healing. They really worked wonders – for considerable amounts of money, so for a while their services were available only to the rich. But many of their methods are still experimental and quite dangerous. Some failures led to huge scandals, and company appeared in sight of general public. They changed their discredited names a few times before they became Miracel. Half a year ago there were replacements in company management, politics also changed – they decided to make services more affordable for common folk, even backed it up with some idea of universal good. Like they wanted to realize human potential, to use capabilities of person's own body and mind for recovery and improvement. There were rumors that they need as much real patients as possible to research the effects of their technologies. Some considered new management to be actual idealists who wanted to advance the humanity – even at the cost of losing its certain representatives. In either c
ase, negative reaction towards the company only increased... Perhaps those people just were ahead of their time."
"I see..." his wife said pensively. "So, some religious group took it to heart so much that has even sent its zombified members to protest? But hold on, you seemed to hint at a contradiction? Where do you see it? In the fact that these suicide cases were making their point about non-intervention into natural course of human life while trying to end their own?"
"I thought about that too," Mark nodded. "On the other hand, there are many sects with largely varying rules. There's something else that disturbs me more – if they hated Miracel that much, why did they make their protests anywhere but in front of their building? In the records themselves, if one will listen carefully, company is spoken about quite neutrally as for people who are willing to give away their lives to fight it. Not even a statement like "Miracel is evil", "Experiments on people must be prohibited". It seems that the subject is actually the company's virtues, shown as disadvantages only because people who give the message are ignorant."
"Yeah..." Dorothy sighed. "The way you retell it their message was short of an advertisement..."
"There were no trails of the sect. For that matter, people can be hypnotized into having memories that don't exist," Torsen frowned. "Whatever it was, now, if someone will make public statements against Miracel, they will be compared to "barbaric opponents of the progress"... No, the assumption is too flagrant," Mark shook his head. "I'm even ashamed of saying this aloud. Can company resort to such unspeakable measures in an attempt to manipulate their public image?"
Spouses looked at the screen as their eyes widened. Milla Selion was finishing her speech:
"We don't blame Justine for what she did; she's a confused child who got into the bad hands. Miracel company takes responsibility for her physical and psychological rehabilitation. Soon the girl will be able to return to normal, full life!" when she said it, the audience burst into applauding.
"Even I was clapping back then," Mark's voice was barely heard. "It seemed so logical... Were they playing some tricks on people in the hall, too?"
Justine's ward appeared on the screen. Standing next to the bandaged patient's bed, Milla spoke:
"She's conscious already, though she can't talk yet. Don't be afraid, everything's going to be fine," Selion said to the girl. "We will help you. You will be as good as new even before the next New Year."
###
Also, you can subscribe to my page to follow the updates:
https://www.facebook.com/byNellyAsher