James Halperin - The First Immortal

Ben had stepped to his daughter’s side and hugged her, burying his face in her hair.

“Let me guess,” he whispered. “There’s more to this than limited VR time, right?”

She was still crying, but the violence had melted. Now she seemed more hurt adult than angry child. He kissed the top of her head.

“Daddy,” she’d said, warmth returning to her voice. “I’m sorry—sort of. But what have you done? What is there for me in a world like this? Everything I know is worthless here. I’m like a cavewoman in Paris.”

He’d chuckled; hoped it would be contagious.

It wasn’t.

“Honey,” Ben tried, “I’m not the one to help you. I’m too close. Our emotions would swallow each other’s. But I promise: Soon, your being here will mean as much to you as it does to me.”

She nodded ever so slightly.

Again Ben kissed her hair. “There are people who can help. We’ll go see them together. Okay?”

Eventually she’d agreed. Although drug therapy had been required, she seemed okay now, even grateful that Ben had intervened. He prayed it wasn’t an act. Thank God the drugs hadn’t changed Max’s personality, he now thought. Or cost her any crucial memory.

Of course, he’d run across far more difficult cases of VR addiction nearly every day in his practice. Sometimes entire brains had to be reformatted to keep them from atrophying! But Ben had always been able to separate himself from such tragedies; those cases were not his own flesh and blood.

After ordering breakfast from the microassembler, Ben announced, mostly to Katie and Jan, who were just then seating themselves at the table, “I was thinking Gary’s three sisters should probably be there when he wakes up; and you, too, Katie, since he was there at your suspension.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Katie said.

“Don’t know how much he’ll want to see me ,” Jan said. “But I’d really like to go.”

“Of course he’ll want to see you,” Rebecca said. “We were all ignorant back then. If Dad could forgive us, Gary certainly will…”

“Nothing to forgive,” Ben said. “Back in the 1980s? Hell, I’m not even sure I believed biostasis would work. Besides, it was as much my fault as any of yours. I should’ve discussed it with you all before I set up that godforsaken Trust in the first place.”

“Oh, maybe not,” Maxine said. “What if we’d talked you out of it? Some of us would no doubt be dead now. Cremated, embalmed, all that barbaric stuff. Anyway, we all made it, and that’s what matters.” She winked at Ben, who nodded back at her.

Alice grinned. “Amen.”

“Do you want to come, Mom?” Ben asked her.

At first it had felt strange to Alice to be addressed as “Mom” by this young man who in most respects seemed older than she did. At times she had even found herself jealous of his memories, the measure of life. But she’d indulged him, and by now was used to it.

“Oh, no thank you,” Alice answered. “I’ll attend Toby Fiske’s reviv if you want the company, but not Gary’s. He’ll have enough to deal with as it is. I think he’ll need some preparation before he meets his amnesiac grandmother. Besides, I can use the time to study for my eugenics ethics exam.”

Of course Alice didn’t want to come, Ben realized. She didn’t know her own grandson. Or was he her grandson? A wry smile hid Ben’s uneasiness. “Always studying. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re in a hurry to move out of here.”

Her expression changed to one of calm circumspection. “You’re a wonderful son, Ben. But I need to be independent as soon as humanly possible. I’m sure we all do. I mean, a person can live without his or her own money these days, but, let’s be honest, not nearly as happily as those who have it. And envy is a great motivating force!”

Everyone laughed, but they all knew it was true.

“Besides,” Alice added, “your daughters, much as they love you, would prefer to be living with their husbands. Once they can afford to revive them.”

“Can’t blame them for that,” Ben said. Recently Jan had seemed especially heartsick.

A lawyer in her former life, Jan’s skills were the least applicable to modern society. It would probably be three years before she would be able to revive Noah, which was still too soon for Ben. Never could stand that weasel, he thought.

These days, most of the Smith clan, Jan included, spent their time studying while holding low-paying apprentice positions, and would likely be forced to accept Ben’s generosity for months or perhaps even years. Only two of his grandchildren, Sarah Banks (Alica’s aunt) and Justin Swenson, having adapted their skills to today’s world, had been able to resume their previous careers as a newsservice journalist and a real estate sales executive.

Sarah and Justin both planned on moving out today to make room for two new arrivals.

Ben had resolved to reintroduce Gary and Toby to consciousness on the same date. Toby’s reanimation should be no problem, Ben thought. After all, his suspension had been predeath.

Therefore Toby was scheduled as today’s lead-off reviv.

Yes, indeed, he thought, Toby ought to be there to joyously welcome Gary back—to a world infinitely more promising than the one he’d temporarily abandoned. But Toby might also have to help him reorient his son’s mnemonically obliterated shell.

The moment I entered the room accompanied by both Wendy-girls, Ben knew Toby was fine. One of the golden retrievers ran up to Ben and began to lick his face.

“Textbook perfect biostasis!” I announced gleefully.

Alice and Ben both beamed at the news. Ben hugged Wendy I, and rolled around with her on the carpet. It was now ten-fourteen A.M.

Less than an hour later, Toby was awake and grinning. “Ben! Alice? You two look terrific! Like generation X-ers, for goodness’ sake. What year is it?”

“It’s 2081. November third.”

“Holy cow! We made it, pal.” Then Dr. Tobias Fiske let loose a jubilant, “Whoooooooooopee!”

Of course! Ben thought. Toby had had himself frozen on a schedule. What a luxury! He’d been completely prepared for it. No stress. Just like going to sleep one night and waking up the next morning, in paradise.

My own perception about this morning’s case, the easiest long-term reviv I’d seen, was almost identical to Ben’s: It made sense. That was why short-term biostasis revivals tended to be so much less difficult than the long-term ones: not because of the time elapsed, but because the suspensions themselves had usually been performed under much less traumatic conditions. “So where the heck’s Gary?” Toby inquired.

“Funny you should ask,” Ben said.

Gary’s reviv was scheduled for one P.M., a fact that Toby was delighted to learn, until Ben explained that Gary had spent close to two hours at the bottom of Boston Harbor.

To pass the remaining, tense minutes, the two men borrowed my office to trade stories about the world and their lives; the years on each end of their suspensions when only one had been sentient. It was a diverting celebration of their own victories over Death, and Ben contented himself by finally expressing appreciation to Toby for jettisoning a medical career to rescue him, first from brain damage and then from dissection.

Toby explained how instrumental Gary had been in preventing the autopsy. “And another guy who might deserve some credit was Brandon Butters, the attorney who prosecuted me.”

“Yeah? For blowing the case, you mean? Jan used to date Brandon in high school. Seemed like a helluva nice kid back then. I was pretty surprised, and a little disappointed, to see his name on those court documents.”