Chapter 4:
"You're late," said a strange wobbly looking man standing in the front of the room. He looked about 50, some gray hairs here and there. Thomas recognized his voice from the recording he had listened to. He glanced around the room. Sitting in the corner adjacent to him were two other men and two women. The one man looked to be as old as time, hunkered over in his chair. He was, by all appearances, asleep. The other man looked to be in his mid twenties, and otherwise had no immediately noticeable features. The first, older woman was probably in her late thirties--possibly early forties--and fairly pudgy. She had on a white lab coat, large, coke bottle glasses, and long, ruby red nails. Putting those things together, Thomas reckoned, was not a normal combination by any "standard" definition of fashion. Last, but certainly not least in Thomas' eyes, was a beautiful young woman. She had long, flowing black hair, a fashionable looking sweater and khakis, beautiful blue eyes you could lose yourself in, and big, pouty lips that Thomas imagined would be very soft and loving...
"Ahem!" The wobbly man cleared his throat, jolting Thomas from his thoughts and back to the present.
"Oh, err, yes?" said Thomas.
"I said you're late! I can't stand it when people are late. Didn't you hear the message? Be punctual! I tell you, you can't plan on starting anything on time in today's world. Well go on, sit down!"
Thomas looked around awkwardly for a chair, something that was completely unnecessary given that the group had the entire meeting room and about fifty chairs available to choose from. Thomas started to walk one way, then the other, and finally plopped himself down on a chair that he deemed a safe distance from everyone else. He had this paranoid feeling that he may need to bolt from the room and wanted to be out of arm's reach of the small, ragtag looking group. He was unsure of why he was so anxious, but it certainly wasn't the first time he had felt that way. His breathing was still irregular, but Thomas couldn't be sure if it was from the run or the feelings of paranoia.
"Well Doug, it's 2:05. Check your...computer thing and see how many people called in."
The young looking man produced a notebook computer from a backpack and set it in his lap. Thomas now noted that Doug was wearing blue jeans and a baggy, ill-fitting sweatshirt that appeared to be at least three to four sizes too big. A few keystrokes later Doug announced his findings. "Server says only two people called, one yesterday and one today, about twenty minutes ago."
"Well twenty minutes ago must've been this fellow here given the way he stood there panting. He probably ran here from somewhere. That or he was just completely captivated by Vera..." The wobbly man cracked a smile.
Thomas flushed, and glanced over at the girl, who was equally, if not more, red. "Realtor's office on 42nd and Dodge..." He muttered.
"That is quite a ways. Well Doug, I don't think anyone else will be coming now if they're this late, so whoever called yesterday is a lost cause. Let's get started." He glanced at Thomas. "What's your name?"
"Thomas."
"Have a last name?"
"Gordon. Why?"
"Just curious is all. My name is Frank, that's Doug with the laptop, Ervin next to him asleep ... again ..." Frank looked slightly worried about this fact for a short time. He finally shook his head and proceeded. "That's Flo there, and I believe you already noticed Vera."
Thomas flushed again, getting slightly angry with this Frank character. "Do you all have last names?" He said sarcastically.
"Of course we do!" Frank said, staring at Thomas as if there was a loud parrot perched on Thomas' shoulder that had hurled an insult at his mother. "What kind of question is that?"
Frank obviously wasn't getting it. Thomas sighed and decided not to fight it, no matter how obvious the question was in his mind. There was a period of awkward silence. Thomas fought the urge to leave. Finally, he got the courage to ask the question that was running through his mind.
"So, what are we doing here?"
"Ah," said Frank, pausing for a period of time longer than what Thomas deemed necessary. He seemed lost in thought. "Oh. Right then, well, you see, we're all members of this little group of people--coalition if you will--that are simply sick and tired of the world as we know it. We see the way things are heading and we've basically come to the conclusion that humanity is in a rough spot right now and things are only going to go downhill from here. After all, things must get worse before they can get better." He chucked to himself. Thomas attempted to grasp why that statement was so funny, and failed. "Well, anyhow," Frank continued, "we've come up with an idea that we think can help solve this frustration--for some of us at least. You see, for years now, Ervin, myself, and Flo have been working on something that you might at first think of as impossible: cryogenics."
Thomas raised an eyebrow.
Frank paused, looking for a more averse reaction. Upon not finding one, he continued. "You know ... human cryopreservation?"
Thomas allowed his eyebrows to trade elevations.
"Well the research has been going on for years now. Scientists in San Diego have been working for over two decades, freezing cell matter from different species of rare animals for their 'frozen zoo.' They have one at the University of New Orleans as well. All very fascinating, but there's not been much work done on the process of preserving a full living body. At least not so far as anybody in the public knew. Can you imagine the backlash certain groups would have created?"
Thomas gaped. "Wait ..." he started. He stopped. "But... that's just science fiction and urban legend! You can't seriously expect me to believe that you can freeze a human and then just thaw them out later, good as new. That's impossible!"
This was the argument Frank was waiting for. "Ah, but nothing is impossible if you put your mind to it! That's precisely what we've been doing now for many, many years--Ervin, Flo and I--working on preserving a full human body for--in theory you see--an indefinite period of time!"
"So you're looking for guinea pigs?"
"What? No, we already have those, they're frozen down at the lab now."
"You have frozen guinea pigs already?"
"Well, yes, along with several other animals. We've had great success!"
"OK, but what I meant was that now you want human test subjects..."
"We have some of those now too, yes."
Thomas prepared to bolt from the room...
"They've already signed up and are due down to the lab in a week."
Thomas relaxed again.
"Well ... so how does this apply to the fact of being fed up with life? I mean you can't solve Earth's problems by freezing people!"
"Obviously not!" Frank scoffed. "No, no, we don't want to freeze everyone, just a select few who wish to volunteer to get away from it all, to essentially go to sleep and then wake up in a brave new world--no pun intended of course and all the love in the world for Huxley--but don't you see? If you're fed up enough with the world now to even come here then you're leagues ahead of everyone else out there! Most people are so content to go about their sad, pathetic excuses for lives that they don't even notice how chaotic everything is around them! But you! You know what's going on, you understand what's happening, you want to see change. Maybe before you only envisioned changing yourself or your comfort zone, but what if the whole world were to change, and for the better? Wouldn't that be spectacular?!"
Thomas thought about this. Fleeing the city was, at best, only temporary, and it probably wouldn't be without its own problems. The future... That could be completely different, and it would have to be better than the present, it would have to be! He grinned, and then quickly grimaced.
"Getting frozen?" he thought to himself. It didn't sound at all pleasant, or safe.
"I don't know, the whole freezing thing just sounds so ... strange, so dangerous." He said.
Frank looked baffled for a split second, failing to comprehend the danger of his life's work. He then remembered that he was dealing with a naïve outsider, and he had to be more understanding.
/> "Well, Tom, I'll tell you what: here's my card. That's my number there at the bottom. You go home and think about it. If you're at all interested, in any way, shape, or form, give me a call, and we can arrange for you to come see the lab for yourself."
Thomas took the card, handling it as if it may spontaneously combust for no apparent reason at all.
"Thanks," he said, "I'll definitely be doing a lot of thinking about this, you can be sure of that."
He stood up to leave and turned one way, then the other. Finally, just as awkwardly as he had picked a seat, he made his way to the door and left. As the door clicked shut, Ervin sat up suddenly.
"What? Meeting start yet?"