S Hunter - Longevity

“McGregor, I thought you’d never ask,” Livvy said, and had the pleasure of watching him do a double take before she added, “It’s after 5 and if we had any lunch it’s slipped my memory. Do you have anything on hand besides dog food?”

“Sorry for the mess,” Chris said, lifting some notes from one of the chairs at the eating end of his table. When he finished that, he went to the scrubber and checked – not clean. There was one clean plate in the cupboard; use of that one was usually the signal to run the scrubber. He grabbed it and some flatwear to set before his guest and noticed that she was watching him with amusement. He went back to the kitchen area to wash and dry another plate and two glasses.

“Hey, don’t mind me,” Livvy said. “I’m still living in a hotel room, on room service.”

They had picked up a pizza and a case of beer.

“I don’t use a glass,” Livvy added.

Livvy opened the box and helped herself to a slice as Chris abandoned the glasses and headed back with his plate.

“Pepperoni. I always forget how good it tastes,” she said.

It was 7 pm and Chris’ Arlington efficiency was on the 11 thfloor, so the foot traffic was negligible and the street traffic undetectable. Louie, gnawing on a dental chewie over near the door, provided the only sound as Livvy and Chris ate for a while in near silence. After a few minutes Livvy couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked between bites.

“Almost sixty years,” Chris said.

“It’s… “

“It’s a place to sleep and to work. A quick commute. And the rent is reasonable,” Chris said.

“I’m thinking of a place in Alexandria, near Old Town,” Livvy said.

“There’s a nice area south of King Street.”

“Thanks. Next week I’ll start there,” she said. “You play much?” She nodded towards the acoustic guitar in the corner.

“A little. Never for anyone else.”

“Somehow, I would have guessed that,” she finally said, putting down her pizza. “Look, McGregor, I suspect that, like me, no matter how long you live you will never again have time enough for small talk. I’ll also hazard that I’m as used to eating alone and working while I eat as you are. I’m not going to enjoy this pizza half as much as I should if we try to avoid it now.

“What didn’t you want to talk about in the office?”

Chris finished chewing his mouthful of pizza, swallowed, and took a swig of beer before replying. “I need to hear something first. Cards on the table. Why LLE? Homicide has more status and probably gets more challenging. Tactical can get more exciting.” He moved his longnecked bottle around in the small circle of condensation on the table, but he kept his eyes on her.

“I thought we covered this already. In the car. After Marcy Caster’s,” Livvy said, working at cutting a manageable bite with her fork.

“Humor me,” Chris said.

Livvy put the fork down and looked at him levelly. “You read about my family and you’ve picked up on my inconspicuous vanity…”

Chris stopped moving his beer around but his expression didn’t change.

“…and you’ve decided you can’t trust me?”

“No. That is, I do,” Chris said with a flicker of surprise, but he continued to regard her levelly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here like this. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what?”

“A lot of people look at the violations, unless you’re talking about something like the Right of Maturity Law, as victimless crimes.”

“Or the Pheromone cases you mentioned, or substandard hotlabs, or all kinds of things that can hurt people. Like I said, I thought we covered this the first day we met, after Marcy.”

“Maybe. Did you get bored?’’

Livvy looked down at her congealing pizza and sighed. “When I was young and my friends and I argued I used to give a long soliloquy about the philosophy behind the Laws. Longevity and enhancement technologies are… the ultimate divisive issues. You can’t imagine how often I have heard the arguments, usually from decent, well-meaning people. People who happen to be well-off enough that the consequences wouldn’t touch them. They’d smile and nod and pretend to listen. Not really wanting to think about it much because they wouldn’t want to risk having to change their minds.

“I’ll never be able to work in Longevity in San Francisco, which means I can probably never go home again. I’d know too many of the perps,” she said on a note that made it plain the thought had just occurred to her.

She looked up at Chris. “You know, Mozart was only 35 when he died.”

Chris raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe we need fleeting youth and intimations of mortality to be really creative. Maybe we’ve lost the best part of ourselves. But you said it: genies never get stuffed back into their bottles. They just don’t. So this is what we’ve got. If I can do anything to prevent it, though, we are not going to evolve into a two-tiered society with dynasties of molebiol-engineered superbeings in towers. Enhancements have to be regulated and Longevity has to have a limit. It has to cost more than mere money, and what else is there that compares to biological immortality?”

“Children,” Livvy answered herself with Chris remained silent.

“It’s the big compromise, and the only one that could work. Give everyone plugged into Longevity a 200 year allotment and a fifty year reduction in allotment for every child. Three children and you’re almost back to a natural life. It’s as fair as we can make it. I’ve never been able to think of anything else that would work.” There was a long pause. Livvy finally smiled.

“You have got to be one hell of an interrogator,” she finally said. “So now you’re asking me to get personal. Why and how LLE…? All right. The public, the whole public, not just naturals or those plugged into Longevity, need to trust us to enforce the Laws fairly, or it’s open season on others from both camps and the Laws won’t save us,” Livvy said, flushing. “So much for civilization as we currently know it. And I find I can live with the one we have.

“I came here because it’s where it all began, some of it with you, McGregor. And as far as how I got here… I asked my father to call the DC Commissioner. That was so much fun, by the way, that in another fifty years I may even do it again. Or maybe not.”

During Livvy’s extended response Louie got up and walked slowly over to the table, then lay down on the floor in the angle between Livvy and Chris.

“Okay. Well, I hope it’s worth it. Don’t glare at me, Hutchins. You weren’t alive for the Allotment Riots, and the history as taught doesn’t convey the… hopelessness. I just wanted to make sure that if I’m going to ask you to risk your life you’re doing it for something you really believe in.”

“I kind of do that every day already,” Livvy said, pointedly touching her wounded arm and struggling to look aggrieved. “Risk my life, that is,” she added, in case Chris missed the gesture.

Chris gave a slight smile. “Regardless, that really is a scratch compared to what you risk if you continue working this case with me.”

“Tell me, seriously,” Livvy asked, curious. “What is it about Josephson, beside what happened fifty years ago? It can’t be another case of the same sickening abuse.”

“You see? We should have eaten first. Keep eating your pizza. It’s not the end of the world, and it’s probably not even another Sara Torkelson. it’s just the start of a private little war,” Chris said. “LLE has them all the time. Eat.”

Livvy half-heartedly picked up her fork and Chris started his story.