James Halperin - The First Immortal

“However,” Judge Ryskamp continued, “these are not normal circumstances. For one thing, there has been no evidence presented that Dr. Fiske was attempting to disregard his patient’s wishes. Indeed, it seems likely that his actions were governed more by his friendship with Dr. Smith than by medical protocol. Therefore even if it is discovered that Dr. Smith was not provably terminal, Dr. Fiske is likely to be found guilty of nothing more than assisting a suicide.”

Brandon suppressed a smile. Ryskamp was absolutely right. If this ruling upheld the autopsy order, at least it would be for a sensible reason.

Noah thought: Why hadn’t that pious chump Brandon Butters taken a harder line? If the ADA had simply emphasized the possibility that Fiske had murdered Ben for the inheritance, they wouldn’t even be sweating today’s ruling. Oh well, they’d still probably win.

“Nonetheless,” Ryskamp continued, “it seems that there would be little to lose by performing an autopsy to uncover whatever evidence is there.”

Brandon and Jan smiled faintly. Noah smirked.

“But a third factor,” Ryskamp added, “must also be considered: That of the deceased’s decision to be frozen, and his purpose in that decision. Legally, a dead person has no standing. However, that person’s property is customarily distributed in accordance with his or her wishes. It is not within the competence of this court and, based on the conflicting expert opinions submitted here, apparently not within the competence of today’s science either, to judge whether cryonics is viable.

“Benjamin Smith’s body was bequeathed as an anatomical donation to the Phoenix Life Extension Foundation, and perhaps to Dr. Smith himself. It is possible to override such bequests in certain instances, but a standard of probity must be maintained.”

Jan and Noah blanched.

Damn! Jan realized they were screwed; they were going to lose! They’d have to sell the house; move to an apartment; probably even send Sarah and Mike to public schools. And Noah would be devastated.

We’ll have to start buying our clothes at Filene’s Basement, Noah thought. Jesus. Everyone at the club was going to think: What a loser that guy Banks is!

Brandon turned and offered his friends a compassionate gaze, having given not a moment’s thought to this high-profile loss from the perspective of his own future. To him it was more important to have sought equity than to have prevailed in disoblige. His worst disappointment was for Jan, the first woman he ever loved, and possibly the last. Emptying all thoughts of her from his mind, Brandon consoled himself: Tobias Fiske had paid a high enough price already. Had the prosecution won, justice would have been the loser.

On the other side of the room, Webster was smugly anticipating a flood of lucrative cases from which he would soon have the privilege of selecting. Gary and Toby embraced in jubilant relief while Ryskamp finished, “We deem it both unlawful and unwise to invalidate his instructions merely to obtain evidence of dubious consequence. We unanimously agree that Dr. Smith’s wishes should not be betrayed. Therefore the State’s writ of habeas corpus and court order authorizing the autopsy of Dr. Benjamin Smith are hereby revoked with prejudice.”

June 20, 1998

—With intent to draft a Universal Declaration of Ethical Standards, the United Nations General Assembly commissions a study on the implications of animal and human cloning. Once the Declaration is adopted, each member nation will either pass laws requiring citizens to abide by UN standards, or face possible ostracism from the international community. Over the past 16 months, eleven independent teams of scientists around the world have successfully produced clones of adult mammals, a feat considered impossible by most biologists just two years ago.—The Food and Drug Administration authorizes human trials on a robot developed at NASA’s Ames Research Center to assist in brain surgery. The one-tenth-inch-diameter robotic probe, which uses neural net software to survey the brain, is equipped with pressure sensors allowing it to locate edges of tumors without damaging arteries or nerves.

Soon after the appeal ruling, Brandon Butters had withdrawn criminal charges due to lack of evidence. Within two years Jan Smith and Noah Banks, deserted by all other Smiths and unable to raise funds to continue litigation against Webster’s seemingly bottomless resources, were forced to drop their civil case.

On the very next day, Toby had sold his practice, put his house up for sale, and placed his few remaining assets into an offshore trust.

He’d tried to explain it to Gary: “Something in my mind just clicked. The trial, the interminable ordeal of it, and the stakes. All those passions stirred. It was more than just me on trial in that courtroom. It was a whole system of belief! I felt as though I could suddenly see everyone struggling to hang on to an ideology by destroying someone else’s. All that ferocity, all that fear, and for what? Finally, I came to understand our desire not only to deceive, but to be deceived by the supernatural, or so-called magic, or ancient taboos. Like the notion that dead bodies have to be buried or cremated, even though we know that the definition of death is always changing.”

Gary had nodded silently.

“And I saw firsthand,” Toby continued, “how destructive it is for people to confront reality with less-than-open eyes. I don’t know if it was because I finally felt liberated, or maybe just observing you; someone with the guts to follow his own path, Gary. But somehow I knew what I had to do with what’s left of my life.”

Now, almost six years later, the two friends shared another inaugural day of summer: cloudless skies, 76 degrees with cool gusts of clean, fragrant air. They sat, enjoying their every Tuesday and Thursday lunch at the Fish Market in Faneuil Hall, just a stone’s throw from Webster’s office. In fact, both men had on occasion been amused by the notion of throwing stones through the window of the lawyer whose bills had single-handedly drained the entire Smith Family Cryonic Trust. But mostly they thought of Webster not at all, feeling favored by the current states of their lives, all regrets notwithstanding.

Gary Franklin Smith’s fortunes had continued unabated, his only emptiness arising out of isolation from his family; an estrangement resulting from the court battle his sisters had waged against Toby and him. He’d barely spoken to any of them since.

Dr. Tobias Fiske had reinvented himself as a “debunker of the occult,” and had become fairly well known. Now he traveled the country uncovering frauds in medicine, religion, law, and pseudoscience. Many of his “victims” liked to file lawsuits, only adding to his fame. Even the Psychic Friends Network had threatened to sue over a double-blind investigation he’d carried out the previous year, although he doubted (but hoped) they would actually go through with it.

A few weeks ago Toby had obtained and published photographic evidence against Reverend Michael McCully, a famous faith healer. It seemed that two of the man’s formerly lame “patients” had been out jogging the day before their miraculous cures on national television.

“What ever happened with Reverend Mike?” Gary asked.

Toby chuckled. “Well, the idiot sued, of course, which was great. Fell right into my clutches. All that free publicity for the newsletter and my books. And more bad press for that clown himself. Besides, I figure: What have I got to lose? My meager assets are all judgment-proof, and nobody can touch my pension. Probably won’t even hire a lawyer this time.”

Gary grinned. “So what’s your latest project?” he asked eagerly.

“Ever hear anything about Jacques Dubois and the Jericho Amber?”