Health Day

Blagh, getting sick. I'm going to try to head this off with vitamins and rest. I do not want to risk things getting out of control like last time. Now is really not the time to out myself as a cryogenetic. Hell no. Take care of yourself, internet denizens.

Winter Wonderland: I'm Confused

I just heard about the Global Thermostat project. I don't know what I could possibly say. I wish ours was a world in which things like this don't happen. Why do so many people want to destroy the world? How can they be so selfish that they think their vision of the world is worth all the lives they take to achieve it? I'm a freaking cryogenetic, and even I don't want to live in an ice age. This is our damned planet. It belongs to baseline humans, superhumans, metahumans, cyborgs, xenoids, plants, animals, fungi, and whatever else I've overlooked. We all have to live on this one planet. We're not getting another one. The Pan-Galactic treaties are very clear about that. And yet it seems like every day another person tries to destroy it.

I can't think about this anymore. I can't think about the people just like me who are dying. Since this is my blog, I'm going to be selfish and talk about me now. I need the distraction, and the best part about navel-gazing is that I never find something traumatic in there. I'm going to ignore the rest of the world, and the looks on people's faces whenever they hear the word cryogenesis. Here's what's been happening in my life.

Internet's been down here for days due to a combination of nasty thunderstorms and DJ Livewire redirecting communications satellites for some interstellar crisis. The power's been down too, and you can imagine how pleasant that is in June in South Florida. Cryogenesis has never tasted sweeter. On that note, I've been researching peppermint. Science students bear with me here, I know I'm bastardizing this. Peppermint contains menthol, which chemically triggers TRPM8 receptors. TRPM8 receptors are sensitive to cold, which is why peppermints make your mouth feel cool. So I'm wondering if the sporadic spontaneous peppermint taste is less a sign of impending brain tumor doom, and more a matter of crossed wires in my chemical receptors that interpret peppermint and cryogenesis the same way. Or maybe I can produce menthol? I'm confused. Maybe I should conduct a scientific experiment and smooch someone to determine whether or not I'm only imagining the peppermint taste. Or I could just ignore the problem and eat another peppermint humbug. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

Candyland Fail

Babysitting. The kid is asleep and I'm just poking around on the internet until the parents return. Since this isn't Myke's place, I feel secure that nobody is hijacking my internet connection to listen to every word I type. Or read every word. Whatever.
I was playing Candyland with the kid earlier. It's been updated. Since when is Queen Frostine a princess? Seriously, she used to be this awesome queen with the world's coolest blue cupcake dress and transparent blue hair. Now she's just another pink Barbie-wannabe on ice skates. And she's blonde. What the hell? She had a killer, trademark look, and then she traded it in for sparkly snowflake barbie, now with fluffy earmuff accessories. Way to downgrade there. Crap, gotta go. Parents just pulled up.

Laurence Olivier Wants You To Upgrade Your iTunes

Wow, it's been a busy week. For starters, I have a new computer. It survived the electricity thing, and then I kinda more or less drop kicked it. Into the pool. It was an accident, and not really as hard to accomplish as one might think. Anyway. My new computer is tiny. Like, about the size of a hardcover book. It was cheap. It didn't come with much memory at all, and the reason I haven't posted for a while is because Mycroft kidnapped it for some sort of upgrade. Maybe a bulletproof casing. Even though he could do that in like a minute, I think he's been holding on to it in the hope that I'll decide I don't want a computer after all. He seems to think giving me a computer is morally equivalent to letting a rabid hyena babysit a toddler. He finally mailed it to me this morning, and I've been monkeying around with it. It talks to me. The computer, I mean. It constantly nags me to approve esoteric functions and back up my data, and it's very supercilious about it. If I say no to something it wants me to do, it asks me if I'm sure twice, explains why my choice is wrong, and then reminds me five minutes later. And it speaks in Laurence Olivier's voice, which is why I haven't destroyed it yet. I'm not sure if I owe Myke, or if I should kill him. I mean, I was totally fine with a normal computer. This is like owning a toaster that can do your dry cleaning. It's great, but confusing and not entirely necessary.
In other news, I am bald. Well, not entirely. I have something that could be charitably described as a pixie-cut-in-training on my head. It turns out that there was an awful lot of damage from the electricity and heat of that evil hairdryer, and I had to lose pretty much all of my hair. I bought a new hairdryer, but I haven't had the nerve to use it yet. Also, I have no hair to use it on.

How Not To Use Cryogenesis

Well, it finally happened. If I could find a time machine, I would set it to earlier this evening, and bash my hair dryer to pieces to prevent this atrocity from ever occurring. There was something of an incident. It turns out, cryogenesis and hairstyling have never before mixed for a damned good reason. I had the coolest hairdo ever, and I pinned it in place with carefully applied ice instead of gel. I took a bajillion pictures, which I will carefully delete from my camera blah blah blah because I'm not an idiot who leaves evidence around. I'm just an idiot. I shocked myself while defrosting my hair. My eye is still twitching, and it's been hours. My hair is... there are no words in the English language to describe my hair. Let's come up with a term that means "resembling a poorly groomed yeti due to cold-induced brittleness and electric shock". But don't put my picture in the dictionary beside it, because I don't want to go down in recorded history as the person with the worst hair day ever including people with lycanthropy.
Uh, gotta cut this short. Still carrying a residual charge and my laptop is freaking out. Ow.

Back to Blogging

Water is blissfully back to normal, and I've been busy. Babysitting, looking for plants that can withstand ice, weeding the garden (weeds cannot withstand ice, as it so happens), looking for a place a little bit more private than my pool to practice cryogenesis now that my little sister has decided it's swimming weather, and wearing my awesome black leather vest. I've been unable to post because of the weekend rush of parents trying to escape their offspring. You try posting with kids looking over your shoulder and howling about bedtime stories. Seriously, the Gregson boy must be Nosferatu, judging by his sleep cycle. I've been making sure to order garlic sticks with the pizza, just in case.

On the good news front, they finally arrested Dr. Wilde. That creep was hanging out at a zoo. The monkey exhibit, of course. Some supervillains are just extraordinarily hard on endangered species. Remember Snow Leopard a couple years ago, who was all "Snow leopards are my totem, so that gives me the right to wear a costume entirely made out of their fur"? Yeah, the clip of Goldenrod smacking her seven ways to Sunday is one of my YouTube favorites. Snow leopards are just too damned adorable. And there's another great cryogenetic name I can never use, thanks to that jerk. Not sure what happened to her costume. Isn't it a felony to even touch something like that?

Rampant Consumerism

Water still not normal. My sister decided to risk it anyway and take a shower, though I notice she didn't wash her hair or face.
I went out thrift-shopping with a couple of high school friends. Most of my college friends live far, far away in mystical lands with real snow. I've kept in touch with Lisa and Taylor since I graduated high school. Everyone makes those empty promises to keep in touch for the rest of our lives, and gets all emotional and affectionate once yearbook signing rolls around and they don't actually have to see your face ever again. But Lisa and Taylor actually meant it.
We hit up some of the small local stores. Taylor has an uncanny gift for finding them. We tried on hats, laughed over outrageous dresses, and offered scorecards for the pants we found. I found a gorgeous silk jacket. It was deep blue, with silver dragon embroidery on it. Too big for me. Lisa is wearing it now, and I am contemplating stealing Linda Farrow's shrink ray out of the police lockup and using it on the jacket, because I want it. Sigh. Lisa looks good in it. Blue is not my color, no matter how much I want it to be.
I looked through bathing suits and raincoats and winter boots. Nothing worth having. What fabric stands up well to repeated submersion in ice? Does one even exist? Why don't any professional cryogenetics donate their gently-used costumes to thrift stores and save me the trial and error? I feel like I'm constantly reinventing the wheel here. If I ever make it to the big times, I'm going to write a book. Cryogenesis for Dummies, or maybe Everything You Wanted To Know About Your Superpowers But Had No Wise Old Mentor To Explain To You, or Stuff Nobody Bothered Explaining To Me That Could Have Made My Life As A Cryogenetic Much Easier If Only I Had Known What You Know Now You Lucky Reader.
I did get a cute leather vest, though. I need to replace the buttons, but it is totally awesome.

That Funny Taste

Still on a boil water restriction. You know that saying that a watched pot never boils? This might just be me being paranoid, but I think it takes longer for water to boil when I'm around. Is that possible? No, it's just me being paranoid. My cryogenesis can't reach all the way across the kitchen. I'm jumpy around water when other people are around. It's the easiest way to get caught out.
I wonder if this happens to other cryogenetics. I mean, there's no big book of superpowers. There have been a handful of studies, but they're all science gibberish and mostly focused on how much damage we can do to bystanders. There's no cryogenetic support group. I can talk to Myke about superhuman stuff, but I can't ask him if stuff suddenly tastes like peppermint for no reason. Even if I ask another cryogenetic, I probably wouldn't get answers. It's not like we all have the same origin or power level, and some have secondary powers so that really throws off the equation. If something goes wrong with my powers, I don't know if I would even know. For all I know, the peppermint thing is a side effect of a lump of ice building in my brain like a tumor. Or something. I've sworn off all homemade frozen goods for a while. Just in case.

Convenient Cryogenesis

Someone took out the entire county's water supply today. Well, technically it's still there. There are just things in it that aren't water. The news crews were awfully vague about what precisely went wrong, which means it's probably something governmentally hush-hush. Or maybe some M'lar skinny-dipped in the water towers again and nobody wants to make a big thing out of it.
Of course, I found out about this contaminated water stuff in the middle of a shower. So I had to decide between walking around with chlorinated skin and sudsy hair, or using cryogenesis on the sly. What do you think I did? Yeah, I lied to my sister and told her I was already clean and just stealing all her hot water. She's pissed that I got in the shower first, since she didn't get a turn, but since it was contaminated water anyway it all evens out. She's been mocking me, saying maybe it was radioactive water and I'll get superpowers from it. Ha. Ha ha.
Technically I don't really need to take showers. I can make enough water on my skin to keep clean. But I like hot water and the way the water hits my skin, so I take normal showers unless I've touched something extraordinarily gross and I need to get clean immediately. Please don't lecture me about water conservation.
I focused the water out of my hands. All the practice with the sno-cones and stuff helped me pinpoint my cryogenesis. It took forever to wash my hair, since I use very sudsy shampoo and I can't make more water pressure than a faucet, and I was holding back a bit because I didn't want the water to freeze in my hair or get out of control and turn into another sheet of ice. I can make ice a heck of a lot faster than water, for some reason.
I also used cryogenesis to brush my teeth. It saves the drinking water for the rest of my family, who actually need it. And it's not like anyone is checking my water consumption and I need to misdirect them. My family doesn't actually think I have any secrets from them. It could be worse. I could have to deal with the crap Mycroft puts up with.

Sugar and Snowballs

Did you know that cryogenetics and frozen treats have a long and honorable history? It turns out DuBois ice cream was started up by a cryogenetic. I may have to buy some caramel chocolate chip ice cream as a gesture of solidarity with my people. I guess I was reinventing the wheel with my experiments with ice cream and freeze pops. It seems really freaking obvious in retrospect, doesn't it? Yeah, I really need to research the history of my powers some more, or I'm going to wind up looking really stupid in the superhero arena.
I've been thinking of how I can use cryogenesis in my ordinary life if I go public. Whether or not I go pro, I'm going to be a cryogenetic 24/7 for the rest of my life, and I might as well turn that to my advantage. My powers (and a jug of syrup) can win me love and acceptance at any barbecue or picnic. I can drive my own little ice cream truck around and listen to the jingle all day. Hey, a girl's gotta dream.
I'm totally paying my respects to my superhuman heritage (figuratively, of course- my power isn't hereditary) by my quest to create the perfect sno-cone. This has required some rigorous experimentation, of course. There are a lot of variables, such as temperature and granule size. I stayed home while my parents and sister went out, put on a swimming suit and sunscreen (just because I can create ice doesn't mean I'm immune to skin cancer), hauled a jug of grape syrup and a plastic cup and spoon outside, inflated the big rubber ring and floated around the pool idly practicing my cryogenesis. I generally don't go swimming when there's someone else nearby, because the water gets cold awfully fast, and people would wonder why I'm the only one without blue lips. Of course for me, every weather is swimming weather. I practiced making tiny grains of ice with each hand, and crunched into the results to test their texture. The ones that passed the test got doused in syrup and eaten. I dumped the rejects into the pool, where they vanished without a trace. I'm thinking I need to spend a lot more time in the pool, especially since we have a hedge right next to it where I can hide large chunks of ice. The ferns are already full of hail balls, and my mom wonders why they're looking kind of wilted. Oops. I water them as often as I can to get rid of the evidence. My mother sees this as a budding interest in gardening.
My tongue is so purple right now. For the record, the ultimate sno-cone is soft and powdery on the inside, with a crisp (but thin) shell. It's really hard to compensate for the syrup and the sun, but I am a consummate professional, and diligently practiced until I got it right.

I Do Not Like Green Fire And Spam

Back at home. Myke was very reluctant to surrender the laptop into my hands. He doesn't have a lot of faith in my technological aptitude. Actually, he called me a Luddite when I told him I didn't need more RAM on my computer. I think he installed it anyway.
Now to the interesting news. The green fire was not a data download. Myke can see every single file I've ever deleted off the computer, and knows how often I've turned off my computer "improperly" and can tell where all my pirated music came from, and knows which web sites I've been visiting and how often (to the nanosecond!). I stopped listening to the specifics right about the time he started talking about cookies and virus protection, in the tone of voice my mom uses when my sister paints her toenails on the antique Persian rug. But hey, now I have great custom-made virus protection with a cute little red rabbit logo. Anyway, the point of that was, nobody's spying on me. Except Myke.
So what was that creepy green fire?
He doesn't know. Myke, the internet demigod, doesn't know. He says it was a gibberish transmission. It's not coded messages or mind control or anything. It's just white noise, a freaky electric phenomenon that scrambled my computer's brains for a few minutes. At least, that's what I think he was explaining. He's not too good at speaking in plain non-tech English when there's a computer in the room.
I'm willing to just call it a gremlin. Now that I know it's not a worst case scenario, and I'm not going to get my brains irradiated or eaten by tentacle monster gods, I'm kind of okay with it. You know, it's a weird world we live in. I can accept freaky green light. As long as it doesn't happen again.

Elementary Deduction

Hey, remember that part about me questioning whether I should tell Mycroft about me being a cryogenetic? It turns out that when you borrow Myke's internet, he gets all Big Brother on you. I wiped the browser history, but he poked around and kinda put two and two together. I've already threatened him in person, but since I know you're reading this Myke, if you tell ANYONE, I will distribute your naked baby photos to the entire state of Florida and a couple choice parts of Oregon via snail mail. That will be all.
So, to the rest of my readers, here's how my day went. Despite my heartwrenching sick puppy impression, I got dragged out fishing. Because fresh air is good for me. And there were pierced worms and flopping fish and inconvenient sprays of water. And muggy weather, and bright sun, and so many bugs. I was sulking behind a slightly damp book when Myke dropped down beside me and said, "You might as well power up. Nobody's going to notice except the mosquitos."
As you can imagine, my razor sharp wit came up with an appropriate reply. About thirty seconds later. I smacked him over the head and told him to keep his voice down, because my sister was like ten feet away. But I upped the frost aura a bit more. The bugs left, and Myke stopped sweating. We talked. I'm halfway terrified at my secret being out to a real live person (besides maybe Dani), and a bit annoyed that he snooped, and a bit thrilled to have someone to actually talk to. I know Myke's been following the news (I don't think he can NOT follow it, actually) but he wasn't scared. I cooled his soda for him. I actually like drinking mine warm, but it's kind of impossible to do that anymore, because it starts cooling down the moment I touch it. I didn't dare do any more, or even sneak Myke an ice chip, since the parental units were kind of watching me to make sure I didn't steal a vehicle and flee the premises.
But he knows. And it's okay. Out of all this horrible weekend, after hearing everyone talk about Killer Frost, after putting up with fishing and camping and car rides, I have someone who understands. I'm typing this on his computer, because he's got my laptop wired into something and the screen is displaying things that aren't my desktop. The computer is actually working for him, and I think he might be debugging it and downloading stuff while he looks for green fire residue, since he's making disapproving noises at me. Like I'm some sort of idiot who doesn't take the lint out of the dryer and then it bursts into flame. Whatever. If he keeps doing that, I'm going to make a sheet of ice down his back.
Wait, are you reading this, Myke? I haven't even posted it.
Myke is a slobbering troll.
You ARE reading it. Quit it. At least be polite and look over my shoulder or something because that's really creepy that you're reading it off a different computer while I'm writing it on the other side of the room. Don't you dare sign into my account and edit this. And stop mocking my typing speed, you jerk.

Wholesome Family Fun

I spent four hours in the car today, with my little sister whining that I was obviously hogging all the air conditioning despite all the vents being aimed at her. Sigh. I am thankful for the inventor of text messaging, since it kept her busy for most of the trip. I buried my nose in a book, but towards the end of the trip I started counting cows. Yes, I'm in THAT part of Florida. We're at my aunt and uncle's house. They don't personally own any cows, but they have a few horses. We're staying there for a whole weekend of fun. We had a family picnic, where I made subtle use of cryogenesis to discourage ants from attacking me, and also ward off food poisoning from the potato salad. I don't even like potato salad, but I had to eat some to make Aunt Eliza happy, despite the obvious risks of mayonnaise in the sweltering sun. I managed to keep from restocking the ice in the cooler, even after it all turned into slush because Jordan left it open. That would have been a little too obvious, and now is really not the time to out myself as a cryogenetic. Not in the wake of what Killer Frost did, and definitely not to my extended family. I mean, they're not even willing to admit that Mycroft is a metatech.
Mycroft is my cousin. I call him Myke, and I can get away with it because I'm older and stronger than he is, and I can get him in a mean headlock. He is the only reason I have internet access right now, way out in the sticks. He's more of a software metatech than the engineer type, but he's managed to do something with turbines and satellite programming so we have internet at his house. Despite the fact that his parents still think they have dial-up. I'm not too curious about the details, because I'm not certain that this is strictly legal. Knowing Myke, he's got some sort of arcane legal loophole prepared in case he gets caught. The whole family knows he's a metatech, even if his parents refuse to admit it. No, their son just has natural talent, by gosh. None of that cheating superpower stuff for him. He's just a whiz with computers, and would love to fix the family computers in his free time. It's his hobby, isn't it? And of course he'll set the timer on the VCR. And explain the functions of the microwave. Myke drew the line at fixing cars, though. He hates engine grease with a passion.
I haven't told Myke that I'm a cryogenetic. I think maybe I should. I mean, we don't get along all the time, but he is my favorite cousin. He's reliable and knows how to keep secrets. I'm pretty sure he's even keeping a few government secrets that aren't really his to keep. He's a metatech, so he could understand where I'm coming from with the superpowers thing. I tried to bring it up subtly in conversation, but Myke's not too good at nuances, and he spent most of the day twiddling morosely on some sleek little phone thing that projects a hologram touch screen about twice its size. I think it might have started as an iPhone. He loves the outdoors just as much as I do. Anyway, I gotta sign off. We're fishing tomorrow. I think I'm gonna fake a cold and stay home. I can certainly fake shivers, a cold sweat and clammy skin.

Don't Eat That Cherry Snow

So, I've given myself a stomachache from all those Freeze Pops. Not really sure if that means I'm vulnerable to cold from the inside, or if I'm allergic to red food coloring, or if I just need to try eating less sugar water and more real food.
I've got to get to bed now, because we have wholesome family activities to do at a disgusting hour of the morning tomorrow. More updates later.

Winter Wonderland: Movies

I've been trying to find reasons to keep using my cryogenesis. The media is bombarding me with images of how NOT to use cryogenesis. I'm not sure if I'm glad that everyone can see what Killer Frost has done, or if I'm angry at how predatory the paparazzi are towards the victims. Mostly I'm just horrified. Nobody deserves to die like that. Not supervillains, not murderers, not anybody.
So I've devoted the past couple of days to therapeutic fluff movies and rediscovering what I love about my powers. I missed yesterday's Winter Wonderland installment, so here it is.
The classic cryogenesis movie is The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I never really got a feeling of bleak winter horror out of what the White Witch did to Narnia. It seemed like a really awesome place: snowball fights every day, misty breath, frosted windows, ice castles, kickass fur coats. And imagine what that would do for the winter tourism industry. You know the Archenlanders were totally skiing there. I would. I thought Narnia was much cooler in its beautiful stark winter than in spring with all those flower people and snooty lions prancing around. The White Witch had some very pretty sparkly ice effects. I kind of envy her, the way she never gets her outfit wet despite all the snow. The more recent Narnia movie has a really cool scene involving a frozen river. You know, whenever anyone crosses any frozen body of water in a movie, someone is inevitably going to fall in. It's like that rule in theater about how the loaded gun in the desk has to go off by act three. Except this rule is more likely to result in someone pulling the old let's-cuddle-for-body-warmth act, which I don't think you can do with a gun scenario. Unless it's a freeze ray.
Carrying on the tradition of evil cryogenetic women is the Snow Queen, in the movie of the same name. The movie takes place in a wonderful little Germanic town with ice skating, hot chocolate, sledding and all the other seasonal perks of living in a place that isn't Florida. I wish I could make it snow all over Florida for just one day. I've seen real snow before on vacations, but some people never have. That strikes me as unutterably sad. Anyway, the Snow Queen has an awesome sled and a polar bear and some sort of mirror mind control-ish power that I never quite got. I highly recommend the movie.
In the X-Men movies, Bobby (Iceman) has a cameo. He does a cute thing with his powers, making a blooming rose out of ice. I admire his delicate touch, and the way he got the ice so clear, but perhaps it's not a good idea to hand something that cold to someone you like. Just because you're immune to cold doesn't mean your sweetheart is. Also, she probably doesn't want to carry around a chunk of ice that will melt all over her textbooks. In later movies Bobby does standard stuff like walls of ice, but he doesn't get much screen time. I know he's fictional, but I'm kind of relating to him. My powers look a lot like his, except not as good. I might be able to make a wall of ice, but then I'd have to find some place to hide it until it melts. I tried making an ice rose. I had to make all the petals separately and then make more ice to stick them together. It was kind of blobby, but it looked rose-ish. Kind of. I don't think I've seen Bobby make snow in the movies either, but I think he can in the comic books. Maybe I'm the type of cryogenetic who's just supposed to make ice instead of snow.
More recently, there is Frozone in the Incredibles. I like how he breaks away from the stereotype of Aryan cryogenetics. Seriously, just because I can make ice doesn't mean I'm descended from people who lived in icy climates. That's like saying every hydrokinetic has the last name Fisher. It doesn't work that way, people! Frozone was more of a cryokinetic than a cryogenetic, because he used ambient humidity, but he managed to produce amazing amounts of ice, really fast. His power also produces fluffy snow, which I envy because he uses it to cushion a couple impacts. Also, he could hypothetically start a snowball fight AT ANY MOMENT. Imagine living with that potential. I just have my little hail balls, and I wouldn't want to use those in a friendly fight because they're solid ice. It's like having a pillow fight after stuffing your pillowcase with bricks. Frozone has very aerated ice for the most part. It's white, unlike the mostly clear glasslike stuff Bobby makes in the movies. Frozone also does that classic violating-the-laws-of-physics skating ramp ice thing, except he disintegrates it behind him to reuse the water. I totally wish I could do that.
So in essence, I've been avoiding the news and watching movies that make me want to use my cryogenesis in new ways. I've also invented a way to motivate myself to practice every day: Freeze Pops. Little tubes of flavored water, which I can turn into popsicles merely by holding them and concentrating. I think I'm going to run out of room in my stomach and Freeze Pops in my fridge before I hit the limits of my power or even get appreciably better at freezing things in my hand, but this is the best practice tool ever.

Broken Prison

Have you been watching the news? I never realized that ice could do that much damage. It's a sobering thought. They'll have to build an entirely new prison, and prisons aren't exactly delicate works of architecture. It's not just broken pipes and frosty windows. The prison doesn't really have right angles any more, just bulging mounds and spires of ice with dark lumps trapped in it. There are no sharp lines in the ice, just irregular wobbles and curves, but it doesn't look funny or harmless or beautiful at all. I've seen those National Geographic pictures of icebergs and shattered rocks, but it always seemed so abstract, so artsy. When you look at something like a broken concrete and iron building, wrenched from its foundations and shattered into jagged boulders slimed over with ice, then cryogenesis stops seeming all winter wonderland pretty. There are people impaled on icicles, or frozen to death, or with blocks of ice in their lungs. There are parts of people everywhere, and the ice is so dirty that there's no way of telling what's grime and what used to be part of a person. The media has been merciless in its coverage. They're still extracting prisoners from the wing that was furthest away from Killer Frost, and they've had to pull a lot of the Midwest pyrokinetics to do it without boiling anyone to death. Even with all the professionals and tools far more sophisticated than hairdryers and screwdrivers, people are coming out minus their faces, fingers and skin.
This is ugly. I got the shivers watching the news feeds. It makes me afraid of what I can do. I would never, ever do something like this. But one day, I might be able to. And nobody is going to have as much confidence in the strength of my principles as I do. Nobody would think my word that I'm a good person would be enough to keep everyone else safe. And I'm not entirely sure I could blame them for that.
When a cryogenetic like me starts seeing eye to eye with people like Angela Slater, it's confusing to everyone's world view. But honestly, superhumans can be terrifying at times. Even when you're one of them.

Killer Frost: What's He Up To?

If you guessed 'killing people,' you are correct. It's shit like this that makes me cringe to call myself a superhuman, let alone a cryogenetic. It's not that all the cryogenetics out there are batshit crazy serial killers. It's just that the most visible ones are. There was even a freaking league of evil assholes specifically devoted to cryogenesis, trying to start up a new ice age. Cryo isn't around any more to tip the scales with cute charity events like free ice skating for orphans or whatever. Every time you hear of a cryogenetic there's always some picture of frostbitten faces and people shattered into little bloody ice shards. Now that Killer Frost is out of jail and murdering people again, it's just going to get worse.
On less depressing topics, last night I babysat for the demon kids next door. Their parents were escaping for a date or anniversary or whatever, and I had to entertain them, feed them, then stuff them into their beds. Naturally, they're picky eaters, they're easily bored, they argue over ridiculous trifles, and don't like listening to me. And to top it off, one of them managed to douse himself in orange juice, and he just LOVES baths, let me tell you. I'm almost willing to trade jobs with Vector right now, if only to watch him suffer.