James Halperin - The First Immortal

The copyrights on Gary’s previous works had expired long ago, so all of his eggs were in one basket: The Dawn of Life.

The moment Father Steve obtained his archive record of their accident, Gary had set to work. While artists no longer applied paint by hand, the task of determining where every fleck of color should be placed by the micromachines had hardly been less demanding. Adding the sunrise to the programming datacube had required nearly 1,500 hours of intense concentration. Gary had to view and analyze every reasonable variation of color, shape, texture, and light on his design AI screen before he could be satisfied.

Then, like any commercial painter, writer of fiction, playwright, choreographer, journalist, or essayist, once Gary knew he’d given his best to the job, he simply released the work cybernetically and waited in purgatory for the world to respond.

While Gary sat apprehensively with Kimber in his home, Jan Smith invited Brandon Butters for a walk outside.

“I need your advice about something very private,” she told him in words just barely true enough to pass a scip. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Dad said we could get any news coming in on Gary from our wristbands.”

The moment they were alone, Jan took his hand and waylaid him: “Brandon, are you still in love with me?” Once the words hung naked on the line, she felt relieved to have put them there.

Brandon’s face froze, as though it might shatter if his expression were to change. “W-Why?” His lips moved little more than a ventriloquist’s. “Why would you ask me a question like that?”

“Because I love you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

He was gaping at her. “Why? Why now?”

“I guess maybe I always did and just never let myself know it. But after living in the same house with you, day after day, well, I can neither deny nor stand it. You’re admirable, not to mention incredibly sexy. And I trust you. I could never trust Noah, which my shrinks tell me is what gave him such sexual power. Now that I understand, it no longer holds me. I’m ready for you , because I know you’ll always do what’s right. I was an idiot to give you up for him. A fool. But at least I know it now. So are you still in love with me?”

Brandon stood in reflection. “What does it matter? You’re married to someone else.”

Taking his answer as a yes, Jan grinned. “Actually, I’m not.”

“What?”

“The law only upholds unions where both partners are either suspended or conscious. When one spouse is frozen, the animated partner decides if the marriage is valid. My choice. My marriage to Noah no longer exists, legally or in my heart.”

“If that’s true,” Brandon said, starting to smile, “and if you don’t revive your hus—I mean Noah, then who will?”

“Maybe no one. I’m not sure I care. Maybe he doesn’t deserve to live again.”

“That isn’t for us to decide.”

“Oh, Brandon. Of course we don’t have the right to prevent others from reviving him. But it’s damn well our decision whether or not we should sponsor his reviv, and I vote not.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much love lost on the part of your children, either.”

“He wasn’t much of a father.”

“He’s still a human being, Jan. You can’t let him die. It’s a different world now, one that enforces honesty and redemption. You and your children are his family, his only family. So if not you, who? And if not now, when? Each day he remains frozen lessens his chances.”

“Don’t be so sure. The technology’s getting cheaper every year, and storage is becoming more expensive.”

“Then what?”

“If they ever decide to abandon suspendees who don’t have sponsors, we can always revive him.”

“I suppose we’d have to,” Brandon said. “I’m not sure I could live with myself if we didn’t.”

“I doubt it’ll ever come to that. Besides, don’t you think everyone will be revived? Maybe he’ll wake up in about fifty years on some lovely space habitat in earth’s orbit; find someone else to marry and have a nice comfortable life.”

“I suppose,” Brandon said, but he looked away.

Jan playfully arched her eyebrows. “Either that, or wind up on the out-colony of a lesser Jovian moon.”

“But he’s… he was your husband. And now he’ll wake up alone, if at all.”

“Don’t feel sorry for him. That part’s his fault, not mine. He almost killed my father, and got me to help him. But you saved Dad. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ll never forgive Noah, or stop loving you. Never.”

“And what about Ben?” Brandon asked. “Your father revived me. Probably saved my life. I couldn’t do anything behind his back.”

Jan smiled. “Of course not,” she said, then kissed his mouth. “God, I love you, Brandon! Let’s go talk to him. Right now.”

“Ben,” Brandon entreated, “I’ve loved your daughter since we were teenagers, and apparently she’s now in love with me. Fact is, we’d like to get married, sir, and I hope with your blessing.”

Ben’s response was unanticipated: “Now, let me get this straight. You’re asking me whom I’d prefer as a husband to my daughter; you or some fellow who tried to have me thawed so he could get at the money in my trust fund? Quite a dilemma.” He grinned. “Welcome to the family, son.”

Ben Smith embraced Brandon Butters, just like the jubilant bear hug in which Toby Fiske had enveloped him on the day Marge gave birth to Gary. It reminded Ben that even in so joyful a moment, there yet remained in his life plenty of unresolved grief, all connected with his irrevocably deceased wife and estranged son.

The first of hundreds of media reviews that day was entered by Alec Auberty, art critic for the Dallas News Syndicate:

I happened to be born in the 1990s; the decade when the pitched battle between science and mysticism for the hearts and minds of the human race at last began to draw even. We hadn’t the means to know it then, but after eons of domination by the malevolent forces of darkness and ignorance, civilization stood at the very threshold of our Millennium of Hope. I remember first being told, at the age of seven, that life began on planet Earth some three billion years ago.

Like most of my generation, since childhood I have tried to imagine that miracle. Today, for the first time, I not only visualized the moment, I felt it.

In creating what is perhaps this century’s most important artistic accomplishment, a composition of unrivaled splendor, palpability, and eloquence, Gary Franklin Smith has single-handedly restored my faith that humans can achieve feats of which machines shall never be capable…

By midnight, The Dawn of Life would tally over forty million viewer hours, a record-shattering statistic destined to be broken by the same work again and again over the coming weeks, months, and years.

As rave reviews mounted that day, Gary knew that his father would be proud and happy for him. Yet he was shocked to realize that his father’s pride gave him no gratification. The fact that Ben would feel self-satisfaction tainted Gary’s sense of accomplishment; damaged his own joy.

What the hell was wrong with him? he wondered. Why couldn’t he get past his father and just appreciate his own life? He would tell no one of this feeling, not even Kimber.

December 31, 2083

—Chrysler Motors Corporation’s recently revived DeSoto division unveils a fully operational prototype of its Sport-Explorer Hovermobile. The machine, which hovers on an air cushion at 16 inches above ground, includes one noteworthy new option, a manual override control. The vehicle will traverse almost any terrain without environmental consequences, and can scale up to a 60-degree grade with no loss of forward momentum. Chrysler’s rather optimistic sales slogan is: “VR can’t touch it!”—On the third day of his self-induced cold, medical historian Daniel Appel finally instructs his nanomachine immune system to banish the virus from his body. He explains, “Three days was about all I could stand, and I think I can now remember the feeling well enough to describe it in my next text. The last time I was sick was nearly half a century ago, and you forget what it’s like. It’s amazing to realize that people once lived with illness as a normal part of their lives. Since 2055, only 17 other humans have sustained any viral illnesses lasting more than a few minutes.