Brilliant Short Stories

by Stan Mason

  She stopped knitting for a moment to look up at him. ‘You’re not serious, are you?’ she countered, believing he had either lost his mind or he was pulling her leg.

  ‘I certainly am,’ he declared adamantly. ‘If you think there’s a Heaven everyone goes to, and that our aura rises to travel there, I want to take some of my money with me.’

  ‘But how can you spend it? There’s nothing to buy in Heaven. Nothing at all. Only your soul goes there.’

  ‘Brilliant!’ he muttered. ‘So now you tell me there’s nothing there. Well what the hell are you praying for? I thought everyone would meet Jesus Christ went they went to Heaven and he’d take care of them. That’s what you believe, isn’t it? I’m confused by your thinking, Irene. Really I am.’

  ‘It’s very straightforward,’ she returned coldly. ‘One religion, one God, one Heaven. What could be simpler?’

  ‘Okay,’ he responded calmly. ‘Have it your way. But will you put some money in the tin chest when I put it in the attic? Just a few hundred pounds will do and I’ll pick it up on my way to Heaven when I die.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so silly!’ she chided angrily.

  ‘No, I mean it. Will you promise me you’ll do that?’ His attitude was most adamant.

  She shrugged her shoulders and then decided to give in to his whim. ‘Very well,’ she told him reluctantly. ‘You have my promise. I’ll put a couple of hundred pounds in the box if you ever fall ill enough to die. God only knows, you’ll outlive me to say the least. You know the old saying. A broken pane lasts the longest.’

  ‘A broken pane lasts the longest,’ he repeated slowly, allowing the thought to filter through his mind. ‘You know, the Pharoahs of Egypt used to fill their burial chambers with all kinds of wealth to take with them into the next world. Perhaps when one’s aura rises, so does the spirit within the wealth to go along with the dead person. Hand in hand.’

  ‘Believe what you will,’ she said curtly, continuing with her knitting pattern. ‘Believe what you will!’

  In the weeks that followed, Callard continued with the chemotherapy and radiation treatment. Indeed, the cure proved to be far worse than the disease and it wasn’t long before it became clear he was losing the battle to live. His neck continued to swell, his eyes began to protrude from red fleshy eyelids, he lost a considerable amount of weight, and the pallor of his skin turned from white to yellow as jaundice set in. Gradually, he started to get weaker, unable to walk easily in the street. Then he lost even more strength finding it difficult to move from one room to another in the house. Shortly, he was forced to retreat to bed like an invalid and there he lay quite still aimlessly watching television programmes in the bedroom in between long periods of sleep. The doctor prescribed morphine injections to help dull the pain which became more severe as the days passed by. It was quite apparent to everyone who visited him that his days were well and truly numbered. Yet even on the last evening of his life, he tormented himself by trying to shrug off the atheistic views which crossed his mind. ‘Hand me your Bible,’ he whispered to Irene the night before he passed on. It was all he could do to make himself heard. ‘I want to cram up on my finals.’ He gave a hoarse gasp which represented a guffaw and laid his head back on the pillow in a state of exhaustion.

  On the following morning, Irene tried to waken him only to realise that he was dead. After a relatively short illness, he had passed on to the next world. She had carried out her part of the bargain, as promised, placing five hundred pounds in the tin chest which he had brought to the attic.

  The funeral was a busy affair with all his friends and relatives attending the wake. As soon as they had left, she went up into the attic and lifted the lid of the tin chest. Not surprisingly, the money was still inside. However eager her husband had been to take it with him to Heaven, he had failed to do so.

  ‘Hm,’ she thought to herself as she viewed the notes laying there. ‘Maybe the chest shouldn’t be up here in the attic but down in the basement. I mean, I didn’t really think George, with all his blasphemous thoughts, would ever rise to Heaven but if he’d put it in the basement the money might have come handy in the other place!’

  Immortality

  Monique Depardieu was surprised to see the group of pickets demonstrating outside the research centre. The boards they carried identified their reasons for parading outside. The protests were about cloning and animal testing. In fact they were anti-everything being done inside the complex even though those protesting didn’t really know or understand the research being carried out there. Nonetheless, they walked up and down holding their banners firmly in their fight against all they believed was cruel and against humanity. In reality, although some tests were being carried out on animals, there were very few occasions when suffered occurred, while the clones were used to angle the research closer to human-beings. It was difficult to understand why there was such high feeling against the complex because, in the end, the result was intended to improve conditions for mankind.

  Monique had been born at Fontainbleu in France and had attended the Institute Pasteur in Paris where she had gained her doctorate. She had already proved her worth over the past decade by determining a method of making hair thicker by injecting a drug into the follicles which had no side effects on the mind or the body. It proved to have a lasting effect for a period of six years and actually caused hair to grow in certain circumstances. After that period, a further injection was necessary which continued to make the hair thicken for a further six years. The product was already sold on the market by every pharmacy and it was very popular indeed bringing in multi-million pound profits to the company which manufactured it. Then came her discovery of a drug to slow the breakdown of collagen beneath the skin. Consequently, people who swallowed the tablets soon realised that the wrinkles on their faces began to disappear while the bags under their eyes diminished considerably. The drug had the effect of making people look younger and stay looking younger for many years. Once again, the French company which manufactured the tablets made considerable profits from her research and she became a reasonable wealthy woman in her own right by receiving a fraction of the royalties.

  A genetic scientist dedicated to research for the benefit of mankind, she was head-hunted by a large British company and eventually left her native country to work in England. Two reasons for the upheaval were that she was given carte-blanche to undertake any kind of project she fancied and, secondly, the modern complex she was invited to work in offered her greater equipment facilities to carry out the research she had in mind. As far as she was concerned, however, the material change in environment was caused by her interest in one specific subject... the topic of immortality. If she could only find a means by which people could continue to live to a very old age... perhaps for eternity... she would have achieved her ambition in life. What a discovery that would be! To allow human-beings to live for ever! She realised it was a vain hope but there had to be a means by which it could be achieved one way or another. And now that DNA had progressed to such an advanced stage there was a possibility... no, a probability... that people could live until they were two hundred or three hundred years old without having to suffer disease.

  She donned on her white coat and entered the laboratory to find a strange man sitting lazily on a chair. He was wearing a leather jacket, jeans and suede boots.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded with a surprised expression on her face, believing him to belong to the group of people protesting outside the building.

  ‘Sorry to intrude so early in the morning,’ he began easily. ‘I’m Ted Noakes from the Morning Sun. I’ve come to get a story on your research into immortality.’

  ‘First of all, ‘ she corrected curtly, ‘it is not research on immortality but on the extension of life. Something from which you might benefit in due course if I’m allowed to continue with my work. Secondly, how did you get in here?
Security doesn’t allow reporters into the building at any time. I presume you sneaked in when the security guards were preventing the protesters breaking in.’

  ‘Don’t concern yourself about that,’ he riposted. ‘I’m not here to ask about tests on animals or run the complex down. I’m just curious about immortality... the extension of life.’

  She paused for a moment and glanced at her watch. ‘Okay,’ she told him in her clipped accent. ‘I’ll give you five minutes. Not a second more. Take it or leave it!’

  ‘Five minutes is all right by me,’ he replied simply.

  ‘It’s mostly a matter of DNA,’ she told him. ‘But the subject is so complex it would take a couple of hours to go through the whole thing with you... and you have only five minutes. Imagine a Martian landing on Earth and asking the simple question: “Tell me all about your planet.” I mean, where does one begin?’

  ‘Well give me something to work on,’ he replied, turning on a small tape recorder which he placed on the desk in front of him. ‘I must have something to show my editor.’

  ‘Very well,’ she told him. ‘Let me begin by saying that the body is made up of cells. Each cell of an organism contains the same number of chromosomes... forty-six in number. Chromosomes are made up of groups of factors which are linked together and can’t behave independently. Such hereditary factors are known as genes. Within the nuclei of cells are proteins which are complex molecules found in a whole range of structures of our bodies, For example, hair, muscle and tendons. Haemoglobin carries oxygen in our blood, hormones carry chemical messages around the body and, most importantly, biological catalysts known as enzymes are essential for a series of controlled chemical reactions, such as whether a person’s eyes are blue or brown. A genetic alphabet is used to translate the linear sequence of bases in DNA. A is for Adenine, C for Cytosine, G for Guanine and U for Uracil. An alphabet of four bases is sufficient to code for thousands of different proteins existing in living organisms. Do you understand any of what I’m saying to you?’

  ‘Keep going, Miss Depardieu,’ he replied enthusiastically. ‘Just keep the dialogue going.’

  ‘Okay. Proteins are molecules built of twenty different types of amino acids. You’ll pardon me if I don’t try to explain about a double helix except to say that it is very small yet if extended, the length of DNA from just one cell is about one metre. If someone laid all the DNA strands from one human-being end to end, they’d reach to the sun and back again about fifty times... ’

  ‘Can I stop you there for a moment,’ he intruded politely. ‘I get the picture about DNA but, more to the point, I’d like to know exactly what you’re doing to achieve your aim.’

  ‘I’m doing everything in my power,’ she retorted candidly. ‘It’s a very complex procedure of multiple research, far greater than any accomplished before.’

  ‘Yes,’ he responded swiftly. ‘I recall that you won medical awards for thickening the hair and helping to make it grow in certain conditions. And there was the drug which created the youthful effect on human-beings. The one sold at most chemists. Do you receive any royalties from those sales?’

  ‘I thought you came here to ask me about my present work not what I might or might not receive from the manufacturers!’ Her response was sharp and effective.

  He shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘Of course. But I’d like to get some background on you. For instance, are you married? Are you going out with a boyfriend? What kinds of food do you prefer to eat? What sort of clothes do you wear? Do you ever diet? I need to know everything about you because I want to write a full article on you and your work.’

  She rounded on him angrily at his questions. ‘My personal life is my own. It has nothing to do with you or with any of your readers.’ She glanced quickly at her watch. ‘I think your time is up Mr. Noakes. Will you kindly leave the building immediately or I shall call security to have you removed?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘You’re not being fair,’ he said collecting his tape recorder and placing it into his pocket. ‘We haven’t had anything like five minutes.’

  ‘I would like to remind you that you’re here illegally, Mr. Noakes. Now, what is it to be? Are you going to leave on your own accord or do I call for assistance?’

  ‘Okay, okay!’ he replied, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘Say no more! I’m leaving! I’m leaving!’

  She walked with him to the front door of the complex and closed it firmly behind him. Damned reporters! Damned Press! They were always sneaking around looking for a story. Most of the time they tended to misrepresent the facts and get everything wrong anyway. She could well do without them! She returned to her laboratory and sat at one of the computers to examine the workings of the day before. There were a few encouraging features which needed to be placed in order of priority. The problem with extending life was the fact that organs, nerves and tissues tended to wear in old age. Not only that but the brain failed to work efficiently as time went on until it barely functioned at all with most people when they exceeded the age of ninety-five. At that time, bones were fragile, limbs were stiff, and general deterioration occurred in tissue and hormones. Coupled with that were the diseases suffered by the elderly. Parkinsons disease, Alzheimers, cancer of one part of the body or another, aneurisms and leukaemia, apart from extreme short-sightedness or blindness. It wasn’t as though she could inject a person with a hormone to counteract all these features at one fell swoop. Each factor needed to be dealt with separately and then coincide with healing in every other part of the body. The task seemed impossible but Monique had faced such impossible problems before and she had overcome them. However, on this occasion, there was an extremely high mountain to climb... one which might take her a lifetime to complete if she hoped to achieve a satisfactory result.

  Brendan Towers, the doctor allocated to her as an assistant, entered the room breezily and greeted her warmly.

  ‘’Morning, Monique. How are things today?’

  She peered at the monitor more closely before replying. ‘Hm, it seems some regression has taken place with Mitzi.’

  ‘I’m surprised she’s still alive,’ he returned, looking into the cage of the chimpanzee who sat quite still and appeared very doleful. ‘We gave her a mechanical heart which we’re told will last a lifetime, and we replaced her arteries with metal tubes almost reaching to the brain. That was quite a plumbing job. Then we replaced her liver with a mechanical pump designed to work exactly like the organ removed, except that it’s guaranteed to last a lifetime too. Now we’re considering replacing her kidneys likewise. She’s going to end up a bionic chimp.’

  ‘I wish you’d tell that to the mob parading outside,’ spat the Frenchwoman. ‘They believe the animals in here are in pain all the time. Quite the contrary. They’re very well looked after to say the least. And their contribution to the welfare of mankind can’t be over-estimated.’

  Towers shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘What’s wrong with Mitzi?’ he asked, becoming far more interested in a phial of liquid on the bench than in the answer to his question.

  ‘I’m not sure. She seems a bit listless and the computer shows that her blood-pressure rose considerably in the night.’

  ‘It’s probably because I gave her five milligrams of cotensol before I left.’

  She turned to stare at his face. ‘What did you do that for?’

  ‘It was in the nature of an experiment,’ he informed her casually refusing to look at her.

  ‘You know you’re not to do things like that!’ she scolded angrily. ‘This section is under my control and everything that happens within it is my responsibility. You’re not licensed to carry out experiments that haven’t been cleared with me first.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he managed to say, ‘but it didn’t harm her.’

  ‘That’s not the point. You’re not to do such things again. Not if you s
till want to work here. Do you understand?’

  He shrugged his shoulders again. ‘Okay, I understand. But it was necessary. You failed to recognise the degeneration of the kidneys without cotensil. I acted on instinct to prevent a disaster. You must realise that.’

  ‘All I realise is that you’ve interrupted a perfectly identifiable method of research by intruding your own ideas and acting upon them without permission. It is not acceptable!’

  ‘Very well,’ he replied calmly. ‘I thought I did something to protect the project but if you think differently then please accept my apology.’

  She calmed down a little and turned to examine the screen again. ‘I’ve been working on the DNA,’ she said slowly, using transfer RNA in the cytoplasms to create new proteins. Do you know that some non-coded DNA have no functions at all? They seem to be free of any genetic information whatsoever. RNA carries information about the DNA structures to the factories in the cytoplasm. It’s formed when the DNA spiral partially unwinds. After the RNA strand has been formed the DNA strand reforms. That’s where we can start changing genetic messages.’

  ‘I took a view that it would happen that way,’ he confided.

  There was a pause before she continued, turning to look at him directly. ‘Brendan,’ she began in earnest, ‘I think we need to take the development a little further.’

  ‘In what way?’ he countered. ‘We’re already using eight animals and four human clones in the project. They’re being used to the full. What more could we do to increase activity?’

  ‘By trying the tests on a real human-being.’

  He seemed puzzled by her comment. ‘As I said,’ he went on, ‘we’re already testing with four human clones.’