Cryo-Man (Cryo-Man series, #1) Read Free Page A

used to,” the voice says. “How about something simpler? Can you open your eyes?”
    I’ve known my eyes were shut but I hadn’t considered opening them yet. Now that I try, I find that I can’t. In my mind, I tell my eyelids to part but somehow the message gets lost between brain and face. I don’t know how to do it, don’t know how to get my body to do as I command. It’s very frustrating but I don’t give up. The best I can manage to do is cause slight metallic vibrations beneath my body as I grow increasingly discouraged.
    “It’s okay, it’s okay, just relax,” the voice says. I do as he says and the vibrations cease. “This is probably my fault, not yours. I’ll try to fix it. It’s all about connecting to the right part. This might feel a bit… uncomfortable.”
    The person’s shadow fades away and I sense bright lights above me again. Moments later there’s a hissing of air and the noises around me no longer sound hollow. It’s a relief when I finally feel something, though the pressure pressing against the back of my head is strange and discomforting. Something seems to poke and prod at my mind and I feel different sensations in my face, twitching that I’m not doing on purpose in my cheeks and chin and lips.
    And finally in my eyelids. The prodding stops for a moment but when it happens again, my eyelids twitch once more, separate just enough to allow in a thin stream of light. The voice speaks and no longer sounds hollow or distant.
    “Think I’ve got it now,” the person says, his voice full of pride. He sounds as relieved as I feel. “Just a moment now.”
    I hear a thwup , the sound like a… like a vacuum being sealed. This comparison comes much clearer than any thought I’ve had yet. In an instant, my thoughts are no longer muddled, as if a light switch in my brain has been flipped on. I think I’ve also regained the ability to move, though I only test that theory on my face. I open my eyes. Light streams in so brightly from above that I recoil. The pain is intense so I immediately shut them. Though I only opened my eyes a moment, my brain somehow registered that the rest of the room around me is dark.
    “I’m sorry,” the voice says, sounding nearby yet hollow once again. “I should’ve realized your eyes wouldn’t be accustomed to light after… such a long time being closed.”              
    The light through my lids soon dims.
                  “Please, try again,” the voice says.
                  I open my eyes slower, allowing in smaller amounts of light until I get used to the soft glow. Lots of blinking ensues but they soon adjust. Soon I see not just the source of light above but the reflection of that light against glass inches in front of my eyes, completely surrounding my head. The word to describe the glass comes to mind much quicker than my earlier realizations.
                  Dome, a glass one covering my entire head. At least I’ve figured out what caused the tapping and the distant hollowness to everything I hear. I turn away from the light just enough to see the reflection of my eyes in the glass. They’re wide and unblinking, unnatural yet familiar. I know they’re mine but even with my mind unfrozen, that’s all I do know about myself. I try to tap into my memory but I can’t connect with it. I can’t remember anything… except a voice, a tiny one not my own, a voice that wonders if I’m going to a place called Heaven…
                  “Very good, I’m getting the hang of this,” the nearby voice says. “We both are. That’s two senses down.”
                  I turn my head toward the voice. It’s hard to pinpoint any sound with everything so hollow; this will take some getting used to. Though I don’t see the other person, my eyes have adjusted enough to take in my surroundings. I’m in a plain white room; the first word that pops into my mind is sterile. I’m in