Brighton City Hospital was a state-of-the-art facility; its staff was brilliant, its machinery cutting-edge, and its procedures revolutionary. The building brought the city billions through both its influx of patients and the best-and-brightest who came to work in the rising metropolis.
However, that reputation was to be put to the test today, with the hospitals new group of patients. The “Anomalies” they were called. Patients whose conditions baffled even BCH. Patients that even modern-day medical science couldn’t treat, much less cure. With no way to save these patients, but bound to their Oath, Bridge City Hospital decided they weren’t going to play by the rules anymore. If they couldn’t attack head-on, they’d hamstring the problem until they could do a direct assault.
One of these Anomalies was Jacob Bentley; thirty-six, and once the poster child of a playboy. Wealthy. Charming. Arrogant and too focused on his appearance. His playboy days had been over for a decade now thanks to his ‘condition.’ The horrific genetic disorder that afflicted the man had baffled even Bridge City Hospital’s staff and seemed to defy explanation. Every single part of Jacob’s body was in terminal decline, all the way down to his DNA. His whole body was breaking, falling apart at the seams even. Jacob was already on life support, and things were only expected to get worse from there.
The man had lost almost everything too. Family. Acquaintances. Girls. He’d been given enough of the estates fortune to keep him ‘alive,’ but everyone knew Jacobs days were numbered, especially Jacob. He had three months to live. Maybe.
That was where the Deep Freeze Project came in.
The staff had gotten Jacob to buy into the idea before making him sign a dozen various contracts he could barely read through his failing eyesight. The dying man wasn’t sure of the specifics (though based on the name, he could figure out the general idea), but even a medical Hail Mary sounded better than a slow, painful death.
Jacob didn’t know when this ‘procedure’ was going to happen, and had the secret fear he was going to die before he was operated on. In the meantime, he resigned himself to watching the increasingly blurry television, and fuming about his stolen future. I’d better regain my share once this is over… he thought, his failing eyes making out most of the room as fuzzy blobs. This isn’t fair that I’m kicked to the curb because I’m dying. For all I know, they did this to me to bump me off the will. How else does one develop a disease that nobody has seen before?
The others… whatever their names are seem like the types to cook up a custom disease so they get to split up my share. Hell, for all I know this is going to go on until there’s only one of us left standing.
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Jacob sighed, leaning back in the hospital chair and listening to the sounds of the machines keeping him alive. I’d better make it before they finish… whatever they’re doing to me. I’m not spending all that money just to kick the bucket right before they start the procedure.
After another hour of stewing, the door to the room beeped and opened. With difficulty, Jacob turned his head and saw some fuzzy outlines that he vaguely recognized as the nurses. “Is… it time?” he asked. Please let it be time.
“We are here to take you to the operating room,” one of the orderlies said, almost whispering to Jacobs failing ears. “Please let us place you into the wheelchair.”
“Okay…” the dying man said, voice hoarse and faint. This better fucking work…
With that, the two orderlies walked up, one with what Jacob recognized as a portable life support unit, the other with a wheelchair. With practiced ease, one of the orderlies began re-hooking Jacobs suits tubes and sensors from the beds to the portable unit. Once that was done, the other orderly picked Jacob up and placed him in the wheelchair. “This should only take a few minutes,” one of the staff said, and he was wheeled out of the room and down the hallway.
Jacob was taken into an elevator, where one orderly pressed the lowest button on the number pad. With a soft beep, the doors closed and Jacob felt a smooth descending sensation. Within ten seconds and twenty floors, the doors opened and Jacob was wheeled into an industrial-looking basement area. The lights here were dim and spread out, making the dying man’s failing vision seem like he was being blinded and then plunged into darkness ceaselessly. Good thing I don’t have seizures. Yet.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Jacob was taken through a heavy-looking door and into a room filled with blue light. Long bulky objects surrounded him, blue glowing lines attached to the sides. The man was wheeled up to a box at the end of the row, where he could make out a group of people. One stepped forward, and spoke in a voice Jacob recognized as his lawyer.
“Mister Bentley,” she stated. “You have agreed to this procedure four times. However, you are required to give your formal consent one last time.” The lawyer motioned to the machine. “This is a cryogenic storage unit. Once placed inside, you will be put in suspended animation until a cure or treatment for your condition can be found. However, it is possible that no such cure or treatment will be created or found. Do you accept?”
“Yes,” Jacob answered, voice feeble and hoarse. “I… accept.”
The lawyer nodded and stepped aside as orderlies took Jacob out of the wheelchair and began plugging him into the box's interior. Tubes, hookups, and needles of all kinds were attached, while a full-coverage air mask was placed over the man's face, blocking out sight and hearing. Jacob’s arms were folded over his chest, before the doors closed with a juddering feeling. As they sealed shut, air was pumped out of the interior, replaced by a sticky, warm gel.
Jacob could feel the needles and tubes starting their functions to keep him alive, pumping in liquids and taking out others. There must have also been a sedative in some of the fluids, because his consciousness was already going under. There better be a cure… the man thought, his mind dimming before he fell asleep.
