“She came on her own,” said Marcus, “to see me. She knows, Ray. She figured it out and she’s been beside herself with rage and grief.”
“So now they both know,” said Ray. “How are we ever going to protect them from Ganymede?”
“Maybe they’ll figure out how to protect themselves, as bright as they both are. If they put their heads together, they’ll be a force to be reckoned with. It’s no longer just up to us.”
51
MARCUS TAKANA was designated the keynote speaker at the Artificial Cognition Conference at ten o’clock the next morning. His speech was entitled “How Close to Human? Sharing Our Consciousness and Our Culture.” Ray had already spent enough time as Marcus with Corinne for her passion to seep into his soul.
No wonder the security was so tight around the hotel. The talk would be like a red flag to Hector Lasko and The Tribe of 23. And none of the attendees had any idea that they would be listening to an imposter or that the imposter was about to announce his candidacy for President of the Commonwealth.
As the crowd filled the veranda ballroom where Ray was to speak, Marcus melted into the crowd. He spotted Terra and her colleague Kirti, who’d assisted in the search for Lena, scanning the room and stayed out of their line of sight. The noise and bustle of the room made it easy for him to evade their notice. He spotted Lena, as expected, toward the back of the crowd in one corner of the room. In the opposite corner, he caught a glimpse of the colorful head scarf that Corinne had worn the night before.
Marcus’s heart sank. He’d hoped that Corinne would have stayed out of harm’s way, but the subject of Ray’s talk was just too tantalizing for her to pass up. Marcus also knew that she’d been itching to confront Ray before he had another chance to slip away.
When the moderator strode to the front of the stage and raised her arms in the air to get the crowd’s attention, the din gradually subsided and the sea of heads settled as the audience took their seats. Terra and Kirti, now exposed, stood toward the rear of the room near the exits while the Secret Service agent stood guard in the wings to the left of the stage. Once the room was quiet, the moderator began to speak.
“Welcome to the 15th Annual Artificial Cognition Conference,” she began. “Our first speaker, Gwyneth Isaacs, will discuss advances in the life extension sciences. Please give a warm welcome to Dr. Isaacs.”
The moderator backed away from the center of the stage and a diminutive woman entered from the left and took possession of the crowd’s attention. When she began to speak, a resonant and commanding voice belied her small stature and wispy figure.
“We have spent the first half of this century,” she began, “looking for ways to arrest the aging process and to forestall the eventuality of death.” The audience was hushed, captivated by her presence.
“Despite all of our accumulated knowledge about cellular processes and genetics,” she continued, “the result of our quest has been mixed.” She gestured to the space to her right. A huge three-dimensional model of a chromosome appeared in the space, rotating slowly on its axis, dwarfing the speaker in its shadow. Dr. Isaacs pointed her finger at one end of the structure and a tiny segment lit up at its tail.
“Most of our attention has gone to this structure, the telomere, which we’ve long believed holds the key to cellular aging.” She shook her head slowly. “But the little rascal’s turned out to be a terrible tease.” She paused while laughter rumbled through the audience.
“Our efforts to lengthen it in order to reverse cellular aging have inevitably led to the proliferation of cancerous growths and extended the life and resistance of pathogenic organisms.” She waved her right hand and the image of the giant chromosome dissolved. “Even worse,” she continued, “we’ve succeeded in finding cures for cancer, but they’ve all inevitably led to accelerated aging. Anything we do to address either process always seems to aggravate the other.” She took a few paces back and forth across the stage.
“The one exception has been the Ambrosia Conversion. If we harvest cells from young enough subjects before the aging process has advanced in earnest, we can preserve the length of the telomeres, arrest the aging of the cells, and recolonize the body with these immortalized stem cells without the unintended consequences that occur once the aging process has already set in. For most of us, of course, it’s already too late.” The crowd murmured in agreement.
“The Conversion has been a boon only for those fortunate enough to be both young and wealthy. It has created a new divide in our society between those with the means to become immortal and a vast underclass of the mortal. While there are those among us who would ban it entirely in the interest of fairness, finding ways to extend it to the masses would be a far better solution.”
Dr. Isaacs went on to describe the advances that would make the Conversion affordable enough to offer it to whole generations. Overcoming the age limits that defined the candidates for the process, however, would remain elusive, at least for a while. When she was finished and the applause subsided, the moderator again took the stage.
“This morning I am delighted to welcome a very special keynote speaker, a renowned inventor, icon of the environment, honored public servant, and advocate for the rights of all sentient beings to share equally as citizens of our world community. Please welcome Minister of Discovery Marcus Takana.”
Ray strode to the middle of the stage amidst thundering applause. As the sound built to a crescendo, he raised his arms above his head palms forward and slowly lowered them. The applause faded away. As eager and adoring as was this audience, nobody was focused more intently on Ray than Marcus. His reputation was now in the hands of the man who’d stolen his identity. And he was astounded by the presence of this man, who had slipped into his skin and channeled his temperament and charisma.
“Dr. Isaacs has just told us about advances in the science of life extension that will help us to correct a prominent injustice in our society so that all young adults will have an equal chance for a long life,” Ray began. “This morning I would like to address another injustice, the inequality between two groups of sentient beings, those of us who are carbon based and those who are silicon-based.” Marcus heard the muffled sound of the bell tower next door beginning to chime the hour.
“It’s time we recognized that our silicon-based brethren are imbued with life and deserve to share in all the benefits of our culture.”
The sound of the bells suddenly grew louder. Marcus turned toward the sound and was the first to spot Samson entering one of the rear doors, his weapon at his side. The agent on the stage saw him next and raised his weapon, but Samson fired first and the agent fell. Then Terra was flying at lightning speed around the perimeter of the room toward Samson, distracting him long enough for Ray to hit the deck before Samson could get off another shot in his direction.
Samson fired at Terra as she drew her weapon and the shot caught her in the midsection, barely slowing her pursuit. Samson ducked through the door. The chase continued across the lobby and out onto a balcony where Terra caught up with him and they grappled hand to hand. Marcus was amazed at how strong she was, even wounded, as she held her ground in her battle with the superhuman SPUD. Then in a single, stunning movement, she ducked, grabbed him by the feet, and flipped him over the railing. Marcus heard the impact of the massive body crashing head first to the ground below.
Then from amidst the chaos, Hector Lasko emerged, racing toward the balcony.
“Terra!” Marcus shouted, but it was too late. Hector’s weapon bore a hole through the back of her head and her body collapsed. Bright red blood spurted briefly from the wound, then pooled around her lifeless form. Marcus was as astonished to see the blood as he was stunned at Terra’s demise. With her ageless strength and speed, he’d been sure that she was a SPUD. It now dawned on him that her powers had come from the Conversion. And it was now abundantly clear that it didn’t immunize anyone against death.
Hector turned and darted back through the balcony do
ors into the ballroom, the crowd scattering before him. As the crowd dispersed, Marcus watched in horror as Corinne was exposed directly in Hector’s path.
Kirti seemed to come out of nowhere as she bore down on Hector, but in a flash, Corinne was in his grasp, one arm around her neck and his weapon pressed firmly into her back. Kirti stopped in her tracks. Hector fired, boring a hole in her right thigh and she was down, her weapon hitting the ground and sliding out of reach.
Marcus lunged for Kirti’s weapon. Hector swung his weapon toward Marcus and fired, which provided enough of a distraction for Corinne to wriggle free. Marcus felt a searing pain in his right arm where the laser bored a clean hole through his bicep. Ray bolted to sweep Corinne to safety while Hector descended upon a weakened Marcus to claim a new hostage.
52
RAY WATCHED as Hector backed toward the elevator using Marcus as a shield and resisted the temptation to charge. He couldn’t risk having Marcus die in front of Corinne. Neither of them deserved that fate.
The elevator door closed behind Hector and Marcus. Ray swept the weapon from where Marcus had dropped it and sprang for the elevator bank. He dove into the first available capsule and was on the ground floor in seconds just as Hector and Marcus disappeared outside. He emerged from the lobby just in time to see the hovercar lift off and speed away.
Ray commandeered the nearest vehicle and joined pursuit. Hector’s vehicle was still visible when they turned onto Market Street. As Ray began to close in, Hector left Market and wound among the streets of the city toward Nob Hill trying to lose him. With each turn Ray was just in time to see Hector and Marcus disappear around the next corner. Ray turned right from California onto Hyde and was hot on Hector’s tail as he crested Russian Hill when Hector suddenly veered right.
Ray missed the turn and stopped short, causing the hovercar to hit the ground hard. He jumped out and peered over the vista toward the bay just in time to see Marcus’s car miss a hairpin turn on the brick lined road, bounce off a brick wall, roll completely over and come to rest against one of the concrete barriers that lined the street. He bounded for the wreckage. By the time he reached it, he could see that the driver was dead.
Marcus was slumped in the passenger’s seat wrapped in the mangled carbon fiber frame, barely conscious and unable to move. The door was ajar. Blood was running freely from a gash on his forehead and his breathing was labored. Marcus's right arm was twisted at an angle that left no doubt that it was broken, probably in more than one place. Ray put a finger on Marcus's carotid pulse, which was rapid, thready, and irregular. He struggled to free the body from the car, but it wouldn't budge. The frame of the car embraced Marcus's body snugly and would not give it up.
Ray looked down upon his former body and into the clouded eyes as the life within it ebbed. When a tear trickled from one of the dying eyes, he felt another stream down his own cheek.
He imagined Corinne’s grief at losing her husband and Natasha’s at losing her father. He could return to their home and continue the charade for Natasha’s sake, but she’d eventually figure out that something essential had changed about her father and he couldn’t bear to witness her pain and betrayal when she figured it out.
Then Marcus gasped and after a moment of darkness, Ray felt excruciating pain throughout his body and was gazing upward through a fog. He was completely paralyzed and struggling for breath. He fought to remain conscious.
*****
Marcus took a deep breath and felt the power and vitality of his own body. There was no longer any pain and the relief was exhilarating. He looked down upon Ray and into his eyes as the life within him ebbed. Ray’s eyes closed, his breaths coming in clusters of ascending and descending depth, his face still twisted in agony. Then his breathing became agonal, coming in short, distantly spaced gasps.
Marcus felt tears streaming past the corners of his mouth and watched them drip onto Ray’s face. Then suddenly Ray’s eyes opened, looking straight into Marcus’s eyes. His face relaxed into a peaceful smile and Marcus imagined just for a flash that he winked. Then he drew a last, long breath of this world’s air and died.
Marcus looked down upon Ray's lifeless body, both relieved and bewildered to be alive. He drew a breath that seemed to flow throughout his body and exhaled all the way from the bottoms of his feet. It was over. The system that had linked their lives together from the beginning of the contract had worked flawlessly, just as intended, except the death of Ray’s body had triggered the switch that put them back where they both belonged. He would get to live out his life.
Epilogue
CORINNE AND LENA were huddled together in the hotel lobby when Marcus returned. Corinne leaped to her feet when she saw him.
“What happened?” asked Corinne. “Where is he? Is he…?” She lingered on the last word, unable to say it.
“Ray’s dead,” said Marcus. “There was a crash. He didn’t make it.”
“Ray?” said Corinne, her eyes narrowing, mystified. “But you’re…”
“Marcus, Corinne. I’m Marcus.”
“But...how?”
“It all worked in the end just as it was supposed to,” said Marcus. “When his body died, it triggered the switch and put us back in our own bodies. It’s over, Corinne. I’m free.”
“You get to live out your life,” Corinne said slowly, pondering the implications, “without me.”
“What do you mean?” he asked in alarm. “Are you going to leave me?”
“Not right now, Marcus,” she replied, “but I’m growing older and you’re not. Our lives are going to be different. And even if we’re together until the end, I’m going to die.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Marcus said, looking again straight into her eyes. “I love you more than life itself. I want to grow old with you. I will grow old with you.”
“How?”
“I’m going to have the Conversion reversed. Now that the contract is over, I’m free to do so. And I’ll do it gladly. I was never comfortable with it knowing how you felt about it. Now we can live out our lives together...on the same terms...with no more secrets until death do we part.”
*****
Lena Holbrook drove up to the Takana house, now newly rebuilt, for the second time in her life. She’d never published her story from her first interview with Marcus and Corinne. Ray was now dead nearly a year and she decided it was time to finish what she started. Now there was another chapter to the story, one of which she and Ray were a part. She wondered if she’d be able to write it.
This time, she wasn’t alone. Cradled in her arms as she walked to the front door was a carefully swaddled four-month-old infant.
Corinne came to the door and greeted her with a hug. They’d bonded at the time of her first visit and again at the hotel in San Francisco. Their bond was now complexly nuanced. Corinne gazed at the child’s face. Crimson curls peeked from the edges of the swaddling blanket.
“A girl,” Corinne observed. “She’s adorable.”
“Thank you,” said Lena. “She’s brought sunshine back into my life.”
Marcus walked up from behind Corinne. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he began. Then his eyes settled first on the child, then on Lena’s eyes. “She looks a lot like you...and like Ray,” he said. “What’s her name?”
“You’ll probably laugh,” Lena said. “I named her Terra.”
“How did you ever wind up with Terra?” asked Corinne.
“I always thought it was a pretty name,” said Lena. “It means ‘earth,’ you know. I want my daughter to always feel firmly grounded.” She paused before going on. “And for all the damage that Terra may have done, she gave her life protecting us in the end. My daughter might never have been conceived if not for her.” She gave Marcus and Corinne time to process her last statement.
“It’s a good name,” said Corinne, brushing back one of the child’s red curls. “It fits her well.”
Lena hadn’t seen Marcus since the day Ray was killed. She knew
only that Marcus was by his side when he died. One question still burned within her.
“Did he suffer?” she asked.
“He did, briefly,” said Marcus, “but I believe he was at peace when he died.”
Thank you for that,” said Lena. “It was probably the only peace he ever knew.”
Lena wondered at the complexity of the man with whom she’d shared her life, but hardly knew. The Takana story was now his story, too, and hers. Its arc was more sweeping and complete than the nascent version she’d buried years ago. And, Lena liked to think, telling a person’s story imbued them with just a touch of immortality. She prayed that it was all Ray would ever need.
About the Author
Rick Moskovitz is a Harvard educated psychiatrist who taught psychotherapy and spent nearly four decades listening to his patients tell their stories. After leaving practice, he in turn became a storyteller, writing science fiction that explores the psychological consequences of living in a world of expanding possibilities, including even the prospect of evading death. His characters deal with enduring moral and emotional struggles against a backdrop of a near future world that is still dealing with environmental crises as it navigates the intersection of human and artificial intelligence.
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