Bastion Science Fiction Magazine - Issue 4, July 2014 by Alex Hernandez George S. Walker Eleanor R. Wood Robert Quinlivan Peter Medeiros Hannah Goodwin R. Leigh Hennig

and realised that this group was comprised of the more radical protestors. They had a huge effigy of a stocky middle-aged man, spray-painted all over with the word ‘HYPOCRITE.’ It stood directly in the path of traffic, preventing travel in both directions. The other motorists were getting impatient, blaring their horns or yelling insults at the demonstrators, who were dousing the effigy in liquid.
    “Who’s that supposed to be?” Damian asked.
    “Curt Denning,” Anna replied. “He’s the ex-leader of the Anticry Brigade.”
    “Ex-leader?”
    Anna looked up at the effigy’s cardboard face. “He was all over the news boards recently. He was wanted by the authorities for years on terrorism charges and inciting violence. Then he shocked everyone by turning himself in and opting in to the cryonics programme immediately.”
    “Wow. Talk about a drastic U-turn.”
    “It turns out he was diagnosed with an incurable neural disease. I guess being faced with his own mortality was enough to turn him against everything he stood for.” She gestured at the demonstration. “His former followers weren’t impressed.”
    They were setting light to the effigy now. A siren announced a police vehicle, which overtook the line of queued traffic and pulled up in front of the demonstration. Denning’s likeness went up with a whoosh, his former admirers leaping back from his already-consumed figure, chanting and clapping as they watched him burn.
    Silence filled the car as they observed the scene. After a few minutes, Anna broke the quiet. “I’m beginning to have some idea what he must have struggled with.”
    Damian looked at Denning’s crumpling face and prayed Anna would follow his path. Hypocrisy was nothing when faced with slow, undignified death.
     
    #
     
    Sleep eluded Damian that night. He was still reeling from the news of his mother’s death, and now he struggled with the prospect of losing Anna. He could only pray he would lose her to cryo instead of her illness. He should have been celebrating his return to life. Instead he was forced to confront the mortality of those he loved.
    As he lay in Phyllis’ spare room, staring at the ceiling, he thought of a book he once discovered in a second-hand bookshop. It was a beautiful thing, leather-bound with gold-edged pages. The simple title, Greek Myths, was embossed across the cover. Damian wrote an inscription to Anna on its first page and gave it to her for an anniversary present. Six months ago. That’s when he gave her the gift, wrapped in red tissue paper and propped against a vase bursting with tulips. Tulips were always her favourite. He had saved up to afford dinner at Olivio’s that evening. The food was divine; he ordered champagne. She was beautiful, sitting opposite him wearing that off-the-shoulder dress she knew turned him on. He had been so in love with her that night.
    They made love into the early hours, and afterwards Anna sat up in bed with a sheet draped around her to read aloud from the book. She read the myths as if they were sacred in their ability to peel back the layers of human experience and describe the universal truths affecting people across the ages. She had always loved Prometheus the most. Six months ago, she read Damian his story.
    Only it hadn’t been six months. It had been eight-and-a-half years, and the memory would be much more distant for Anna. They had discussed more than mythology that night.
    “Isn’t it rather…bloodthirsty?” Damian asked, caressing Anna’s bare shoulder.
    “It’s poignant, not bloodthirsty. It’s topical. And I know it better than the others. It’ll be perfect for my presentation.”
    He had always loved the way they could go from pillow talk to academia in moments. Anna had been fretting over this assignment for days, and had suddenly found inspiration in his gift.
    “But you’re focusing on his torture?”
    “Prometheus’ torture is the whole point, Day. It’s what relates his story to modern