Who: News people and a few servants What: The Lazarus Pits are introduced into Los Angeles When: Sunday evening news Where: All over LA Status/Rating: Complete/PG
According to the doctors the woman' cancer had vanished, but because this was Los Angeles, that was the second part of the news segment. The real news, according to the local personalities, was the fact that this fifty-five year old woman now appeared to be in her twenties after her dunk in the beach's newest healing elixir. It was LA, after all, home of the face life, tummy tuck, and nose job. Plastic surgery minus the surgery was bound to make the news. Still, there were those out there –sensible people—who sat in front of their televisions with rapt attention because they actually did care that a cure for cancer had been discovered in their city.
They were finally rewarded for their patience four minutes and thirty-eight seconds into the report. An heiress was offering the cure for caner. (In a UCLA dorm one student turned the channel off at the mention of an heiress and thus went to bed wondering how Paris Hilton had come across what scientists could not.) She was reclusive, the report said; an Arab-American whose father had bequeathed to her something called a Lazarus Pit. She claimed that it was completely natural, grown from the earth, and lo-and-behold when the first geologists and archaeologists made it out to the site earlier in the day, initial tests showed traces of sulfur and phosphorus, but no man made chemicals.
The heiress, Talia Al Gul (who only appeared on camera for the briefest of moments), was declining to allow the California CDC anywhere near her property and it seemed like the reporter's favorite phrase (other than, "it's like a miracle face lift, Steve!") was, "And, again, this procedure has not been approved by the FDA, but is that really going to matter to the thousands of ill people in LA?"
Because, as the report revealed going on minute six, it wasn't just for cancer.
"Were you immersed in the Lazarus Pits?" One reporter asked a man who was wiggling around his left hand like he'd never seen it before. He could only nod in response. "And it worked? How are you feeling?"
It was a segment gilled with inane questions and answers delivered by the cured in pure shock. A good deal of it was unintelligible and the bits that weren't quickly grew repetitive. It wasn't until minute eleven (you had to excuse them, despite the weekly apocalypses, they didn't get the opportunity to sensationalize much around their news room) that the next piece of pertinent information was revealed.
A young brown skinned girl stepped forward to the camera. She kept her dark eyes trained to the ground as she spoke, seemingly unaware of the organized chaos behind her. In stilted English she said, "Miss. Head would like to tell the city of Los Angeles that the Lazarus Pits you see in front of you are open for use to the citizens of the city and she would hope that you all consider her offer because she wishes to help. No matter what your ailment, the Lazarus Pits will heal it. Her word is her bond on this." The girl went on, explaining the process –the line waiting, the submersion, and the brief quarantine after—stumbling over almost every third word, but the message came across loud and clear: come to the beach if you wanted to be healed. The reporter on the scene was nice enough to emphasise this about twenty some times before minute eighteen.
"My mistress wishes you all the best," were the girl's final words before turning nervously an walking back up the beach towards the house where Talia could be just seen on her balcony, dressed in white linen and staring down at the mass of people surrounding the Pits.
Minute twenty-three and the reporter turned back to the camera. "I don't know, Steve, but I'd say this is the weirdest thing to happen in Los Angeles for some time."
At that more than a few natives rolled their eyes, muttered something along the lines of, 'yeah right,' and turned to Anderson Cooper.