The Vault


Written in a very emotional state, Cryogenia flooded from my head in the space of an hour one dark November night. The previous evening I’d watched a documentary on racism and it had filled me with such frustration with the world that I guess Cryogenia was the distorted result. Originally set at the end of the millennium, only dates, spelling and minor wording have been changed since the night I wrote it. One day to go. James Mason sat in the same cafe he had sat in what seemed like a hundred times before. It probably had been a hundred. This was nothing to do with the quality of the cafe. The place, imaginatively named “White with sugar” was, to understate it, a bit of a hole. But it was the only hole where he could meet his friends and talk about their chosen subject without having to worry about offending anyone. To say they were friends was probably an overstatement too. Acquaintances was a much better word to use when you have something in common with people, but don?t really like them. And the only thing James had in common with his acquaintances was that they weren?t scumsucking blacks.
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