Jack McDevitt - POLARIS

“To be young again. Forever. Who could resist that?”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” said Alex. “Nobody can say no. Other than, apparently, Mendoza.”

I was getting annoyed. “You sound as if you think they did something admirable.”

Alex took his time answering. “I’m not sure they didn’t.”

“Oh, come on, Alex. They kidnapped Dunninger. They’re responsible, at least indirectly, for two murders.” I turned and looked at them. Klassner’s eyes never left me. Boland stared out the window, wishing he was somewhere else. White’s gaze had turned inward. Urquhart glowered, daring anyone to challenge him. “You’ve done all right for yourselves,” I continued, getting into a rhythm. “You grabbed the treatment that you denied everyone else. I’d say you haven’t done badly.”

“Had we not intervened,” said Boland, “the population of Rimway would have doubled over the past sixty years. Earth would have over twenty billion people by now.”

White got in: “Except that it wouldn’t. Earth doesn’t have the kind of resources to support a population anywhere close to that. So a lot of those people, millions of them, would have died. Of starvation. Or in wars over natural resources. Or disease.

Governments would have collapsed. Most of the survivors would be living in misery.”

“You don’t know that,” I said.

“Sure we do,” continued White, relentless. “The numbers tell the story. Food production, clean water, even living space. Energy. Medical care. It’s just not there for twenty-plus billion people. The same as it wouldn’t be for us if we had twice the population. Take the trouble to inform yourself, Chase.”

“Damn you,” I said, “you’re taking millions of lives into your hands. What gave you the right to make that sort of decision?”

“Nobody else was in a position to,” said Klassner. “Either we took it into our own hands, or it went by default in Dunninger’s direction.”

“You couldn’t dissuade him?” said Alex.

Klassner’s eyes closed. “No. ‘They’ll find a way.’ That was his mantra. ‘Give them the gift, and they’ll find a way.’ ”

“There are other worlds,” I said. “Help was there if someone was willing to ask.”

Urquhart snorted. “It would have been the same everywhere,” he said, in a rich baritone. “The tidal wave would fill all ports. It would have introduced such suffering and catastrophe as the human race has never seen.”

Upstairs, as if right on schedule with all the talk about doom, a clock struck.

Nine-thirty.

I heard shouts outside. Kids playing. “Where did the money come from?” asked Alex. “It took considerable resources to pull this off.”

Urquhart replied: “The Council has a number of discretionary funds. They can be accessed if the need is sufficiently great.”

“So some of the councillors knew about this.”

“That doesn’t necessarily follow. But yes, it was known on the Council.

Although not by everyone.”

“They thought you were doing the right thing.”

“Mr. Benedict, they were horrified by the possibility that this would get out.”

“And they didn’t ask to share the secret?”

“They didn’t know Dunninger had gotten as far as he had. And they certainly weren’t aware that the project would also produce a rejuvenation capability. We didn’t disabuse them.”

“What kind of life span are you looking at?” I asked. “Is it indefinite?”

“No,” said Boland. “We have parts, stem cells, nerve cells, with which the nanobots have limited capability.”

“Barring accidents,” said Klassner, “Warren thought we’d live about nine hundred years.”

“Our lives,” said White, “are not what they might appear to you. We had to abandon everything we cared about, including our families. Today, we can make no long-term commitments with anyone. We can establish no permanent relationship, take no mate, have no child. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Klassner folded his hands and pressed his lips against them, like a man in prayer.

He confronted Alex. “Look, none of this matters at the moment. If you go to the authorities with this story, you’ll succeed in punishing us. But it will be the story of the age. And all the researchers will need is a blood sample from any of us, and they’ll be able to work out the secret. So the question now is, what do you and your associate plan to do?”

What, indeed?

It had been growing dark outside. Gathering clouds. Four lamps began to glow, one at either end of the sofa, one in a corner of the room, one on a table beside Urquhart.

Klassner cleared his throat. Young or not, this was a man accustomed to having people pay attention when he spoke. “We were gratified that you did not immediately blow the whistle. That tells us you understand the consequences of a rash decision.”

“It would do nothing for your reputation either, Professor.”

“My reputation does not matter. We risked everything to make this work.”

I sat staring at Maddy’s jacket. I thought about how sweet life was, how good young men and jelly donuts and ocean sunsets and night music and all-night parties are. What would happen to the way we live if the secret got out?

Throughout the conversation I’d been trying to think of a compromise, a way to seize permanent youth and simultaneously persuade people to stop having children.

It wouldn’t happen.

“You don’t have to worry,” Alex said. “We’ll keep your secret.”

You could hear everyone exhale. And I have to confess that at that moment I had no idea what the right course of action might be. But I was annoyed, at Alex, at Klassner, at all of them. They were starting to get up. Smiles were breaking out. “One second,” I said, and when I had their attention: “Alex doesn’t speak for me.”

I’d been sitting there wondering how Dunninger’s gift had changed them.

Perspective. Empathy. A sense of proportion. What’s it like not to have to worry about getting old? To see other people as creatures of a day?

It had begun to snow. Big wet flakes. No wind was blowing, and they were coming straight down. I wished for a blizzard big enough to bury the problem.

All eyes were on me, and Klassner, his voice calm and reasonable, apologized that I had been overlooked. “Surely, Chase, you can see the wisdom of letting this go no farther.”

It was hard to believe I was speaking to Martin Klassner, the cosmological giant of the previous century, reinvigorated, somehow returned to life and sitting in our living room. Not only because the event seemed biologically unlikely, but also because it was hard to believe such a man could have known about Maddy and not found a way to heal her. Or at least render her harmless.

“I’m not sure I do,” I said. “You of all people, Martin, know what it is to be old.

To watch the years pile up, and feel the first pains in joints and ligaments. To watch the outside world grow dim. You have it in your power to step in, to prevent people from being betrayed by their own bodies. And you’ve done nothing. For sixty years, you’ve not lifted a finger.”

He started to speak, but I cut him off. “I know the arguments. I know what overpopulation means. If I didn’t realize it earlier, I certainly came to understand it these last few weeks. So we have an ethical dilemma.

“You’ve withheld Tom Dunninger’s gift. No, don’t say anything for a moment.

You and your friends would be in a far stronger position to bring up ethics had you not grabbed the opportunity for yourselves.”