The sterile white of the cryo-chamber slowly faded into focus as he blinked open his eyes, his sclera a striking shade of amber. He winced at the brightness, the lights piercing his long-dormant senses. Then, he noticed her – a pretty blond woman in a crisp suit, her presence starkly incongruous with the clinical surroundings.
Realizing what had happened, his hand instinctively clutched his abdomen, seeking the familiar pain, but found none. Confusion etched his features as he turned to the woman, his voice raspy from disuse. “Am I cured?”
The woman, with a practiced smile, nodded towards his right arm. “Take a look.”
He followed her direction and saw a small, high-tech patch adhered to his skin. It hummed faintly, its intricate circuitry a contrast against his pallid flesh.
“The first patch is complimentary,” she began, her tone shifting subtly, “but to continue treatment, you'll need to join our program.”
He furrowed his brow, disbelief mingling with a dawning realization. “Program?”
“Yes, it’s a fantastic opportunity. This treatment is revolutionary - and, of course, patented. You won't find it anywhere else in the observable Universe.”
“So, you're only reviving those with my condition? For this?”
“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “Our company holds exclusive rights. We pay for each revival because it's a unique opportunity for us – and for you. Without the patch, well...”
She trailed off.
“So what do you say?” she continued after a pause that was half a beat too long. “Do you want to embrace the transformational potential of Herbalife?”