by Anne Rice
“And you want me to tell the singers that?” she demanded.
“Certainly,” he said, making up his mind quickly. “Tell them I want to meet with them, and their heirs, to work something out we can all live with.” He smiled at his own ironic joke.
“All right, but they’ll be suspicious,” said the woman.
“That’s fine with me, so long as they’re willing to talk and bargain in good faith.” He shrugged once, as if he thought he had made the best of a bad situation.
“I’ll tell them what you’ve said,” she promised, and lowered her voice. “I think you better be ready for a lot of resistance.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Leo, remembering that it was opera singers who he would have to deal with, not the more canny restorations his firm had undertaken in the last few months. He had something to be grateful for, he reminded himself. Opera singers were malleable compared to some of the restorations he had made recently.
Leo Holdstrom faced the wiry, energetic young man with the short red beard with dismay. “How do you mean, we can’t restore anyone else?” he asked.
“You haven’t the authority,” said Clarence Darrow. “You are licensing the use of the dead without the consent of the dead themselves.”
“I have the permission of the heirs,” said Leo defensively.
“Not the same thing, since you are restoring the dead through gene grafting. Have you obtained their permission once they are restored? I don’t think so. None of them said you had, and that was a serious oversight. You made no arrangements with the restorations, and you neglected to define the purpose of the restoration to the restored person. You didn’t make any such arrangements with me, and that was a serious mistake.”
“I can tell,” said Leo angrily, then remembered who he was talking with and mastered his temper. “Keep in mind what this program accomplishes. We are enabling, through gene grafting, the continuation of some of the most illustrious careers of the last two centuries. Work that ended can be resumed and improved. There are dozens of programs underway now—in the sciences as well as athletics and art—that would have been impossible without the restorations.”
“Wrong,” said Darrow emphatically. “You are profiting from the talents of some of the most illustrious careers of the last two centuries. Your profits have been enormous, and you have gained tremendous prestige at the expense of those you have restored.” He tapped his old-fashioned briefcase which contained the latest in notebook computers. “You have done this without having a specific grant from those restored. The heirs are profiting, not the restored talents and their hosts. I have been talking to a few of the restorations, in preparation to presenting their case, and many of them feel that you have done a great wrong.”
“What do you mean, a great wrong?” Leo demanded. He had not wanted to let this offensive young man into his office and now he wished he could cause him to vanish.
“A double wrong, both to the restoration and to the host,” Darrow insisted. “You have placed some of the hosts at risk because of the demands being made on the restorations they’re hosting. There are psychological as well as physical traumas the hosts have experienced. That danger was not defined at the time the restoration was agreed to, and—”
“We weren’t aware of any dangers, not that have been proven,” said Leo defensively. “And the hosts are volunteers, remember. They want to host a talent. They aren’t being coerced.”
“Some of them aren’t being treated very well, either. Stirling Moss has already crashed twice and he’s been restored after each crash. That’s a little hard on the hosts, wouldn’t you say?” said Darrow. “Most of them are forced to maintain a schedule they are not able to handle, all because of your desire to make money from them.”
“That’s not true,” Leo protested with heat. “All right. Yes, I make money from the restorations. I use the money to continue the project. We’re providing a service to humanity with them. If you’ll consider who we have restored, you’ll know it’s true; you’re a case in point, Mr. Darrow.”
“Do you think so?” Clarence Darrow countered. “It seems to me that you’re indulging in sophistry, Dr. Holdstrom.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Leo, hoping to get Darrow off his attack.
“You’ll find out in court,” said Darrow bluntly.
Leo glared at him. “I don’t think that would be very wise,” he warned. “Court is very expensive, and this company has the resources to fight you for years if we have to. I intend to protect this program any way I must, no matter what. And don’t believe I won’t do it if you make it necessary.” This last was said softly, with menace.
But Darrow was unimpressed. “Oh, I believe you’re prepared to act. I believe that you could make this costly,” he said. “But the longer you force us to face you at the bar, the greater our awards will be in the end. You will be stuck with high settlements and massive court costs. It could ruin your company.”
“Do you think so?” asked Leo in an attempt to sound unworried.
“I am certain of it. I have prepared a full brief including an analysis of your assets, so I have a good idea of how long you can hold out, and I know the patterns your investors have used in similar cases.” He patted his briefcase. “The system you have going now for research makes my job easier than when I was first in practice. I am in a much better position to deal with this case than I would have been a hundred years ago. And luckily my host has enough court experience to know how to handle juries and voir dire. I think we can tie your company into knots, Dr. Holdstrom, and make it bleed.”
For the first time Leo faltered. “You want the hosts given more say in what happens to them, and you want contracts with the restored talents? After restoration?”
“As a first few steps, yes. There are other issues requiring redress as well.” The redheaded young man grinned with enthusiasm. “There are some technical questions that the courts will have to decide, in any case. Such as who owns the title to works completed by restorations? Is a restoration a collaboration, or do the heirs of the restored talent have primary rights to what their restored people have done, as a group of them have claimed.”
Leo shook his head. “The judge ruled that the restorations were to be regarded as collaborations and all proceeds gained were to be divided equally.”
“That may be changed on appeal. It will go to a higher court, and on up the line to Washington, and to The Hague, as well.” He rocked back on his heels. “And if Europe and the U.S. disagree, it will take a long time to straighten it all out.”
“And you think that would be a wise idea?” asked Leo, openly aghast.
“It is necessary. It should have been taken into account from the first. Your technique of gene grafting may be wonderful in its potential, but the reality has been a cock-up from the first.” Darrow gave him a tight smile. “And since you aren’t going to attend to this yourself, you’re making the restorations force the issue.”
“Because you’ve put ideas in their heads, and in the heads of their heirs,” said Leo angrily.
“I have done nothing of the sort,” said Darrow in an emotionless tone of voice. “I have been retained to represent certain parties who have been taken advantage of, and I will do that to the limits of my abilities, as any ethical attorney would.” He lifted one eyebrow. “I don’t want to ruin you, Dr. Holdstrom, but if you compel me to do it, I will.”
“Why?” Leo demanded. “What is the point of all this?” He rose and began to pace. “What are you going to accomplish by ruining me? The process of gene grafting is licensed all over the world. You won’t be able to stop it with a court battle, not now.”
Darrow watched Leo pace. “I think that some of these issues should have been addressed from the first restoration. You went along thinking that it would make no difference to you, that you would be able to handle the whole restoration business by fiat. Well, Dr. Holdstrom, you’re wrong. You aren’t the great puppet-master you thou
ght you were, and I’m going to prove it.”
“I never thought I was a puppet-master,” said Leo. “I thought I was doing a service for … everyone. From the first tennis star to the last mathematician we have restored, it has been with the intention of providing the world with the best it has to offer.” It had also made him a fortune, but he made no mention of that.
“But without the permission of those you consider the best,” Darrow reminded him. “That’s the part that is the most troubling.”
“You keep ignoring the fact that we have the permission of the heirs,” said Leo, pausing in his restless striding. “How else are we to get it, but through the heirs? Until the subjects are restored there is no way whatsoever to consult them.”
“That would be correct, as far as it goes,” said Darrow. He folded his arms. “Luisa Tetrazini has been trying to get her host to gain weight, in order for her to sing comfortably. The host was chosen for cosmetic reasons as much as anything, and she resents what Tetrazini is trying to do. How do you plan to settle that?”
Leo nodded, doing his best to seem cooperative. “I can see your point in that case.”
“There are dozens of others. Paavo Nurmi doesn’t like the food his host eats and thinks that the routine for condition the runner keeps up is foolish.” Darrow shrugged eloquently. “Even this host you’ve given me hates cigars.”
“Is that an important issue?” asked Leo.
“Not for me, but there are other restorations who have bigger problems with the hosts than that. You have to establish some means of making reasonable concessions for the program or your supply of hosts is going to vanish, no matter what you think.” Darrow picked up his briefcase once more. “Well, this should give you something to think about for the next few days. Talk to your lawyers, Dr. Holdstrom. And listen to them.”
Leo wanted to protest this calm instruction, but could think of nothing to say. He watched Clarence Darrow leave his office, and stood for some little time once he was alone, trying to make up his mind which of his company attorneys should be spoken to first. At last he picked up the phone and called Sam Erwin.
“Sorry, Dr. Holdstrom,” said the secretary. “He’s in conference.”
“Oh?” said Leo at his most depressing. “And why can’t you interrupt him?”
“Because he said not to,” the secretary responded.
Leo began to bluster. “And who is so important that his—”
“Justice William O. Douglas,” the secretary said. “And Clarence Darrow.”
As he left the courtroom Leo Holdstrom felt faint. He had been listening to testimony from musicians for more than four days, hearing how the hosts were unprepared for the eccentricities and foibles of their talents; the week before the athletes had done the same thing, and Leo was getting heartily sick of it. He hoped that the jury felt the same way.
Wilson Trager, the formidable jurist, walked beside him, frowning deeply. “It will be worse when they have the scientists and statesmen on the stand,” he warned. “Those people are able to make a better case. The public always assumes artists are a little crazy, and if they have problems, it doesn’t seem as important as it does with intellectuals.”
“You told me that yesterday,” said Leo with ill grace.
“You had better keep it in mind,” Trager stated. “When they put that young woman hosting Albert Einstein on the stand, there will be fireworks, I warn you.” He thrust his free hand into his pocket. “It’s unfortunate so much of the news media is covering this. And that they were able to use Harry Reasoner’s restoration to anchor the coverage. If his wit weren’t so mordant, our position would look better.”
“Is there anything we can do about that?” asked Leo, remembering how he had chuckled at Reasoner’s description of the body he currently inhabited, comparing it to the one he had had before, talking about getting used to having another four inches in height and seeing a black face when he looked in the mirror.
“Not if we want to underplay it, no,” said Trager. “The trouble is, what Reasoner says makes sense, and most of the people watching this trial know it. They know how hard it can be to accustom oneself to driving a new car, and they appreciate that learning to use a new body would be much more difficult. To say nothing of the shock of coming back into this time, which is different than what they left behind.”
“We have counselors for that. We offer therapy when it’s needed,” said Leo defensively. “There was no indication at first that there would be this kind of trouble for the hosts.”
“Your program of gene grafting is nine years old. You’ve offered therapy for what? Five years? They’re asking questions about what took you so long.” Trager stared at the traffic. “The novelty is gone. It’s no longer special to see a great athlete from the past performing in a new body. It’s taken for granted that you can hear the greats of rock and roll, and jazz, and classical music. Now we’re getting used to having the great minds of the past available to us, living with us through gene grafts. So people no longer regard the restorations as unusual, and they want a better life for them, since they seem to be here to stay. And you will have to guarantee that there will be no more simultaneous restorations. From the testimony we’ve heard, it sounds as if those are the most risky of the lot.”
“But the heirs—” Leo began.
“Damn the heirs. They are a secondary problem right now.”
“But don’t they have a claim, as well? And don’t they share some of the responsibility for authorizing the restorations in the first place?” Leo asked, gesturing toward a restaurant in the opposite corner. “I’ve got us reservations in there,” he explained as he stepped off the curb.
Trager was right beside him. “It makes it harder to work out terms with the opposition, since they’re all restorations themselves, and most of them have had a few unkind words to say about their heirs.” He sidestepped one of the cars completing a turn. “We’d better be prepared with something to offer the restorations and hosts that will make it apparent that you do not intend to take too much advantage of them.”
“But it’s my process,” Leo protested as they entered the restaurant.
“No question of that,” said Trager. “But the fact is, that puts more of the trouble we’re having now on your plate, as it were.” He was silent as the waiter led them to their table, and then he spoke again. “You will have to do something, Leo, or you’ll probably lose a lot of what you’ve gained for yourself. The restorations are right—you are profiting from their expertise. You wouldn’t have restored them if they didn’t have something of worth to license.”
“All right,” said Leo, who had resigned himself to just such a development some time before. “What do you suggest?”
Trager grinned as he made his suggestions; it was like watching a wolverine. “To begin with, I think it would be best to have a secondary level of contracts with the restorations, describing what they have been restored to do, and what they will need to negotiate in regard to their hosts. Second, I think it would be wise to offer some monetary incentive to the restorations to fulfill their work. It’s possible that you could make a fund available to pay for any harm done the host by the actions of the restoration, something along those lines, anyway. We’ll worry about what to do with the heirs later.” He glanced up at the waiter and ordered an abalone sandwich and a bottle of mineral water.
Leo ordered a steak and a glass of wine, then said to Trager, “What if we do a restoration who will not do the work we want?”
“There has to be some arrangements for that, yes. Because you can’t ungraft the genes, and no matter what the restoration does, it is in place in the host until the end, no matter how unwelcome. Just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean that it will not happen ever. And you want to be prepared. If you’re not, who knows what could develop.”
“I’ll do what I can,” said Leo.
“You’d better,” said Trager with a serious nod of his head. “I think you’d b
e wise to have something to offer before the end of the week, or Darrow is going to take you apart.”
“You can stop that,” Leo reminded him.
“I don’t know. Darrow is about the canniest courtroom fighter who was ever around. He had a way with him. He still does. He’s making the restorations look like your personal bonded servants, and you an exploiter driven by greed, not the altruism you claim.” He looked up as his lunch was set in front of him. “It would be a good idea to try to show you’re not using the restorations to line your pockets.”
“But the company—” Leo protested.
“You’re the inventor of the process, and you will be held accountable for it; the heirs can be made to seem your victims,” said Trager. “The stockholders are going to have to accept some adjustment in their earnings, or this process could end up outlawed.” He saw the shock in Leo’s eyes. “Yes. That is a possibility, and you had better face it. Your company could cease to exist entirely.”
“But the process is known,” said Leo. “I couldn’t stop gene grafting now if I wanted to.”
“As your attorney, I have to advise you that you had better find some way to make amends to the restorations and hosts, then, or you’re apt to be tied up in civil suits for the next decade.” He stared at the ceiling. “The heirs would sue you, too, if the judgment went against you for the restoration. The cost would be horrific.”
Leo’s lunch seemed nothing more than paper with indigestible lumps of glue in it. He ate with steady determination and a complete lack of savor. He said nothing more to Trager as he contemplated his predicament.