James Halperin - The First Immortal

“‘Sale of residence and other property: I instruct the executrix to sell my residence, stocks, bonds, and all other investments, and to pay all appropriate estate taxes from those proceeds.

“‘Specific gifts: Once all taxes are paid, I instruct the executrix to pay each of my surviving children one-quarter of the first $1,400,000 remaining, up to $350,000 per child. I then instruct her to pay the trustee of my grandchildren’s trusts their pro-rata share of the next $1,250,000 remaining, up to $250,000 per grandchild. I then instruct her to pay the next $200,000 to Tobias Fiske.’”

The three women glanced at Toby, who shrugged in artless bewilderment, while Webster continued, “‘Finally, I instruct her to divide any remaining funds equally among my surviving children and grandchildren.’”

“How much more will there be?” Jan asked, trying to remain composed.

“I figure about $30,000 each.”

“That’s all?” Jan said. “He was worth over ten million.”

“If you’ll just wait till I’m finished…” Webster said sternly, and went on, “‘Trust administration…’”

What trust? Jan thought, and almost blurted it.

“‘I hereby appoint Tobias Fiske as administrator of the Smith Family Cryonic Trust. Should he be unable to administer the Trust, I appoint Gary Franklin Smith. The administrator will make investment decisions and direct disbursements for the Trust’s expenses, taxes, and partitions.’”

“How much is in it?” Jan asked.

Webster replied, “I can’t tell you that.”

Gary realized he needed to hear it the way his father thought it. “Please continue.”

“Anyone mind if I skip some more technical stuff?”

Nobody objected.

Then Webster read the only part of the Last Will and Testament written not by lawyers, but by Ben himself:

“‘I hope none of my children will think too harshly of me for considering my own welfare. You have all heard my oxygen-mask-on-the-airplane parable. I can only imagine how a small child in that situation would feel during those first seconds, watching her parent place the oxygen mask over his own nose and mouth while she gasps for air. And I suppose this must be how you feel today.

“‘Nature has endowed parents with an instinct to unhesitatingly sacrifice for their children’s sake, an impulse difficult to ignore. I have asked myself if my family would be better off were I gone entirely rather than in limbo. But science has so changed the human condition, it is conceivable that even death itself will someday be defeated. I am now convinced that parents must see to their own survival as well as providing for their offspring. My motivation is selfish: I love you all and want to be with you. If humanly possible, I intend to be there for and with all of you, perhaps centuries from now.

“‘Therefore the Trust will pay for cryonic suspension of any of my direct descendants who wish to arrange for it upon their death, and for Tobias Fiske if he so chooses. Remaining funds, if any, will revert to me upon my eventual revival.’”

Rebecca and Maxine exited the building together in silent bewilderment. They’d each entertained vague notions that their father was rich, but neither had considered their inheritance in actual dollar terms. For them, the afternoon’s encounter seemed almost surreal, not yet connected to their lives.

In his mind Gary already had part of his money spent. He decided to visit a few galleries on the way home; maybe buy something worthy some struggling kid had done. He was surprised at how good the notion made him feel.

In the lobby, Jan stopped at a pay phone and called her husband’s private line. He was waiting for her call and answered on the first ring. “Noah Banks.”

“He left us $350,000,” she said, dispensing with all formalities, “plus $250,000 each in trust for Sarah and Michael.”

“After taxes?” he asked. There was a naked avarice in his voice that neither of them noticed.

“Yes, but we can’t touch the money in Sarah and Michael’s trusts; $350,000 is it, plus maybe another thirty in residual money after all the dust settles.”

“Not what we hoped for, but it’s better than a poke in the eye.”

“Noah, at least three-quarters of his estate went into a trust to fund cryonic suspensions for family members,” she explained, her anger building, “and for Toby Fiske, to whom, by the way, he also bequeathed two hundred grand.”

“You’re kidding!”

“With the balance reverting to Dad upon his, and I quote: ‘eventual revival’!”

“Damn! What should we do?”

“Before we decide, there’s something else you should know.”

“Which is?” he asked. She could just imagine his thoughts: Oh God, must be about money, or she wouldn’t bring it up now .

“I’m pregnant.”

“I see,” was all he said.

She wanted to cry.

June 19, 1988

The pleading took less than forty-eight hours to compose; the two lawyers who drafted it were highly motivated.

“The Estate of Benjamin Franklin Smith, Rebecca Carol Smith-Crane, Maxine Lee Smith Swenson, Jan Lois Smith, et al. versus the Smith Family Cryonic Trust and John Does One through Ten” was filed by Noah Banks at exactly ten A.M. in Suffolk County Federal Court. Within hours, papers and subpoenas would be served on Patrick Webster, Gary Franklin Smith, Harvey Bacon, and Tobias Fiske. Copies of all the pleadings had also been sent via certified mail to the Phoenix.

Though ambivalent about serving papers on her brother, Jan considered the action a necessity, as Gary was alternate trustee of the Smith Family Cryonic Trust. She’d phoned the previous evening and left a message on his answering machine explaining the legal technicality; a courtesy to an ally she presumed to be on the other side through chance rather than intent.

The document read, in part, “Dr. Benjamin Franklin Smith (‘the Deceased’) was a natural person who died on June 2, 1988, a resident of Boston, Massachusetts, either the father or grandfather of each and every plaintiff in this case.

“Upon information and belief, the Deceased was tricked, conned, brainwashed, and otherwise seduced into embracing the purported ‘science’ of cryonics, a pseudocult which promotes the preposterous creed that dead bodies frozen in liquid nitrogen can somehow be restored to life…”

The lawsuit further demanded that all assets of the Smith Family Cryonic Trust be returned to the Estate, and that the corpse of Benjamin Franklin Smith be returned to Massachusetts to receive “a proper Christian burial.”

November 17, 1988

“Please state your name and occupation for the record,” Noah Banks said, looking away from the witness to glare at opposing counsel. Over these past months, he and Patrick Webster had managed to escalate their mutual distrust into full-blown hatred. It was now personal.

Indeed, Webster had made life miserable for the financially strapped firm of Banks and Smith. At his urging, Harvey Bacon had refused to be deposed in Boston. Instead, the four lawyers, along with Toby Fiske, had been forced to drive to Woonsocket, Rhode Island, today. A neutral law firm had been willing to supply the conference room, but the transit time was expensive, a complication Webster obviously preferred.

A court reporter worked the steno machine like a cash register, to which some would say the device was a relation. But Noah, like many personal injury lawyers, tended to think of the legal profession as being in the province of games of chance. He and Jan had fed vast amounts of silver into this particular slot machine, and thus far no payoff had been forthcoming. They were becoming progressively more worried about how much longer they could afford to remain as guests of the casino.