Frozen

Cryogenics was never meant to be easy.

You lay naked and exposed inside a large tank made of chrome and titanium. The scientist begins prepping you. It's already cold. Goosebumps rise on your bare skin and the scientist's silhouette blocks the light. "Lay still," they say, "this will only hurt for a moment." You stare straight above you as deft fingers pry tubes and wires from the side of the pod. The wires hover over the tender skin at the crease of your elbow. Detecting a pulse they hum and insert themselves. You try not to squirm, cry out, but you fail. The scientist scolds you. Tubes follow the wires, burying themselves into your veins. 

You try to remove yourself but you can't. The same process occurs at the crease in your other arm, behind each knee. A mask is strapped to your face. The scientist pushes a larger, thicker tube through the material and it enters your mouth, crawls down your throat until you can feel it in your stomach. 

Your blood is being removed and you can feel each drop as it is sucked away from your body. The scientist disappears and glass falls over the pod. Trapping you. There is a cranking sound followed by the sound of preservation fluid filling the tank. It's a cold and heavy oxygen rich solution full of preservers and nutrients. A similar material creeps through your veins in place of blood. The temperature falls as you are completely submerged. 

You close your eyes and feel your eyelashes freeze together as the liquid solidifies. You're loosing consciousness. Somewhere, caught between a memory and the fading thought of air on your skin, you fall into a place deeper then sleep. 

Cryo was never meant to be easy or comfortable. 

Cryo preserves the human body but not the mind. 

Cryo was meant to cheat time.