Pulling The Dragon's Tail (56 page)

Dr. Hilliard interjected. “Those are all
symptoms consistent with acute subdural hematoma. She needs
emergency surgery. If not, she’ll have permanent brain damage or
even die.”

“Hematoma means bleeding, right?” wondered
Thatcher. “But it’s stopped now.”

“But,” replied Hilliard, “the resultant blood
clot is building up pressure inside her skull. It has to be reduced
somehow. Bring me next to her,” he ordered.

Thatcher and Nate lifted Hilliard and carried
him next to the prone Campbell.

With some difficulty, he propped himself up
beside her.

“Are you okay?” asked a concerned Es.

“I’m a bit weak,” Hilliard answered. “The
nutrients are just taking longer for some reason.”

Es wrinkled her brow in worry. “With Dugan’s
help, I am scanning your medical programming. Your immune system is
still greatly compromised. The stem patch is also not at full
capacity. You still need lots of rest.”

“There’s no time for that now!” barked Hilliard.
He ordered everyone back with a wave of his hand. As they walked a
short distance away, Hilliard grasped Campbell’s right hand. He
took a few deep, slow breaths. His eyes closed. He appeared to fall
asleep. However, his lips moved slightly.

“What’s going on?” asked a confused-looking
Thatcher. “Looks like he’s praying.”

“Shh! It might be a form of deep hypnosis,”
suggested Nate.

The small girl with the freckles awoke. She
moaned in pain until she saw Grandpa Hilliard. “Hi Grandpa! Why
does my head hurt so much?”

“
You fell down on some slippery rocks near
the cabin. But I personally assisted the doctor who operated on
you. Things worked out well and you’ll soon be feeling better. I
have a gift for you.”

“
It’s beautiful, Grandpa!” Campbell gently
grasped the grayish white bird. “Is it alive?”

“
Oh, yes.”

“
It looks like a broad-tailed
hummingbird.”

“
Good job, Campbell. He’s asleep for now,
just like you were. But in time, he will awaken. Then you must let
it fly away.”

“
But,” she protested, “he’s so pretty. Can’t
I keep him?”

“
In time you’ll understand the full impact of
the gift I’ve given you, my dear child. But for now, I must go and
you must get stronger.”

“
But can’t you stay a little longer? We’ve
got more hiking to do! We still haven’t gotten to our secret
hideout yet. Fishing! Campfire songs! Oh! My head still
hurts!”

He gently took her hand, massaging the tiny
bird. Its shallow respirations were barely noticeable. “You’ll
understand in time, I promise. And you know your grandpa always
keeps his promises.”

A minute later, the doctor opened his eyes,
sensing the others returning. His voice was stronger now, his words
resolute. A tear slid down his cheek as he announced ominously,
“She’s in great danger. Dugan, calculate the effect of the stem
cell nutrient patch if it were given to Campbell at the site of her
injury. Is there enough congruent genetic material to benefit
her?”

“Your proposal has not been tried before across
two generations of relatives. However, there are a number of
positive indicators on chromosomes two, fourteen and twenty-three
to indicate it is judicious to proceed.”

* * * * * *

Dr. Hilliard’s bare head lay on a pillow,
exposing a partially shaved scalp on both sides and in the back.
Exposed plugs sprouted from his bare skull. The helmet that held
the vital container of his stem cells now enveloped Campbell’s
head. Some stem cells had been injected into the site of the
injury, at the lower left side of her head, just above the collar
line. But because the wound did not align with the portal entrances
of the doctor’s helmet, an intravenous pump had been rigged from
the medical equipment they had. The stem cell nutrient patch,
affixed to the outside of the helmet, now dripped a steady stream
of medicine into Campbell’s wound.

Waiting was the hardest part. The sun dipped
lower in the early evening sky. Mitchell Hilliard rested
comfortably on an air mattress.

“I’ve lived an interesting and full life,
Nate.”

“That’s the understatement of this millennium
.”

“Thank you for befriending Campbell.”

“She’s quite a woman,” responded Nate, “but
let’s just say the mutual fondness took some time to take root. If
I may, I’d like to ask a bit about the longevity formula…if you
wouldn’t mind.”

With a sparkle in his eyes, Hilliard said, “Have
I concealed it well enough?”

“I would love to know about the process you put
us through, the contents of the formula—I mean, how’d you do
it?”

Hilliard smiled broadly, and a twinkle lit up
his eye. “The mechanism essentially alters the genes in both brain
and somatic cells. It allows them to replicate without the
telomeres shortening. The ends of the chromosomes, the telomeres,
shorten as we grow older, leading to inefficient replication of
cells and ultimately senescence and death. Your imbedded nanochip
keeps up the constant production of these genetically altered
cells. The process of senescence and aging is exponentially slowed
down.”

“A nanochip—I had a hunch. Absolutely
incredible,” said Nate nodding thoughtfully. Then he frowned. “But
a lot of that research was well known for years and still faced a
number of obstacles. How’d you deal with the blood-brain barrier?
And weren’t there problems with getting the altered DNA programming
to remain consistently active? And how’d you get the nanochip in
there?”

“All primary problems that were solved,” assured
a smiling Hilliard, “with an effective virus that negotiated the
blood-brain barrier while leaving the chip intact—and deep
hypnosis.”

“Hypnosis?”

“Yes. I’m pleased you’re so surprised. It still
amazes me that we have the innate ability to literally relax the
essential areas of our brains and allow this alteration. It’s truly
astounding. After I injected the microscopic chip into your
bloodstream, I assisted each of you to guide it to the hypothalamus
via deep hypnosis. Then—you were instructed to forget what had
happened.”

Nate shook his head in awe.

“But it’s only a start,” continued Hilliard.
“Death has been beaten back but not eliminated. As for how humanity
handles greatly extended longevity, you—my test subjects—will have
to answer that. But it can’t be any worse than the state of the
world we live in now. There have been many Herschel Hattons and
Sheridan Norths before.”

“Knowing what you know now, would you still
conduct the experiment?”

“Oh, in a heartbeat. We must do
everything
to defeat this disease of death. Even now, I’m
still haunted by the awful illnesses my parents endured. As a
species, we deserve, and are quite likely capable of, doing better.
Death may always define us to some extent, but the puny
lifetimes—the mere blink of an eye and life is over—all that must
change.”

Another twinkle escaped from Hilliard’s eye.
“Why shouldn’t we live longer? I’m 113 and do you know how quickly
that century-plus has passed? In the blink of an eye. It’s unjust
to limit the human lifespan to ninety, a hundred or even two
hundred years. Where’s the justice in snuffing out the flame of
youth, forever denying unfinished goals? Why take away the beauty
of a rose? Why stop someone from making love to their spouse after
only a few fleeting decades? And where’s the justice in growing
feeble and decrepit? We’re on the verge of extending vitality for
maybe even millennia. It can be done! It will be done! It
is
being done!”

“You sound very optimistic.”
And it’s an
appropriate summary of your life’s work
, thought Nate.

“I’m optimistic because the experiment has also
fostered people like Kalpana, Es and you. Good and decent people
still outweigh the bad.

“Has the secret location been compromised?”

“Oh, not at all—the formula’s quite safe.
Damien, that is Sheridan, wasn’t successful in locating it. He had
only partial clues.”

“You’re placing a great deal of faith in us,”
said Nate.

“
You have
to carry on the
experiment.”

“Me”? asked a surprised Nate.

“You’re at a crossroads, Skip,” said Hilliard
boldly, seeming to gaze deeply into Nate’s eyes.

“Well, it seems that too many crossroads are
intersecting all at once. Sometimes I wish—”

“The situation is urgent, Skip. The Organization
of Concerned Scientists has been beckoning for your talents. Join
the Organ,” urged Hilliard.

“But,” protested Nate, “I worry the Organ is
troubled to the core.”

“It isn’t,” asserted Hilliard. “I’ve conversed
with many of its members—all agree it’s an organization at a
tipping point. The majority of its members are like you, but there
are others who are not. As we speak, they are expelling the radical
elements like Chuang-tze. The Organ has the potential to do so much
good or…” He faltered.

“Turn to violence and anarchy,” Nate completed
his thought. “But—”

“No more buts, Skip,” replied Hilliard. “You’ve
been treating your knowledge as a curse when it is a privilege. The
most crucial variable for the world is the kind of leadership it
has, no matter the circumstances. It’s even more critical to our
survival than whether or not the End-Date occurs. You can be one of
those leaders—and you know it.” He shook his hand emphatically
toward Nate.

“Me?”

“Of course! Why are you so surprised?” asked
Hilliard.

“Campbell and Sister Mariah have said similar
things. I’m just scared, I guess. I never asked Father Abraham to
be in a leadership position. I just want to do His will.”

“How do you know it’s not His will for you to
lead? Shouldn’t your discernment also encompass the feedback of
others?”

“I’m not following you, Dr. Hilliard.”

“That’s exactly it, Skip: don’t follow me. Look
inside—look around you. What do you see? What have you learned?
What does the world need? And how do your talents fit into those
needs?”

Nate was silent, letting Hilliard’s challenging
words sink in.

“Skip, you know more than
anyone
in the
world about the environment, technology, human evil, human
potential! You care very passionately. And besides, you’re going to
live a long time.”

Nate inhaled deeply, then let out a long, slow
sigh. “Could the world handle knowledge of the Alpha Group?” he
queried, wondering if Hilliard also knew about Option 16Z.

“An extremely difficult proposition, but you may
have no choice but to try that,” answered Hilliard with a sigh.

Es and Thatcher approached.

Hilliard squeezed his granddaughter’s hand, as
if signaling her to awaken. His heart raced with dread. “How is
she?”

Es monitored Campbell’s symptoms. A moment
later, Dugan spoke into all their dataports.. “The internal
bleeding has slowed significantly. Intracranial pressure is
dropping.”

“Good news,” Hilliard said, letting out a
contented sigh.

As Nate went with Thatcher to retrieve more
supplies, Es sat down beside Dr. Hilliard. For a minute she stared
at him with a deep unspoken affection. Finally, fighting back a
trembling lower lip, she said, “I will miss you.”

His eyes arched upward. “Ah. You know?”

“Yes. As I’ve told Nate, transhumans are
resourceful.” She gulped. “Dugan did a calculation for me on the
stem cell patch. It was already below its normal potency. And your
immune system was even more compromised by the stress of the
kidnapping. Your profound gift to Campbell...will cost you your
life.”

He reached out his hand. She cupped both of hers
around his and she lovingly kissed and hugged it. “How much
longer?” she asked.

“Perhaps a few hours. It will be our secret for
now. Somehow I’ll need to tell …Campbell.”

Dugan interrupted. “Campbell’s bleeding has been
eliminated. Her blood pressure is now up to 95/58.”

“God, she’s going to make it,” exclaimed
Hilliard. “It worked! After a lifetime of reckless selfishness, it
was my time to give back.” He choked up.

“You are not selfish,” she insisted.

“Anyway, it is as it should be. Campbell should
outlive me.”

“You are an amazing man, Mitchell Hilliard.”

“No eulogies, Es. Besides, you’re trying to make
me cry.” He choked back a sob.

“You are a legend.”

“Stop it. I’m only doing what anyone would do
who loves someone deeply. Oh, the opportunities I’ve had. The whole
notion of the experiment was to challenge convention, and I’ve been
incredibly fortunate to have carried it out. To work at postponing
this veil of death has brought me so much joy. But others will have
to carry on my work.”

Es responded. “It is still hard to believe you
are out of options.”

“Even a cat has only nine lives, Es. And it
looks like I lost a bunch of mine because I refused to see what my
colleagues saw in Beckett.” Hilliard shook his head. “Now my last
wish is to talk with Campbell a bit more. I hope she’ll awaken
soon.”

“It should be soon. I love you, Mitchell
Hilliard—Dad.” Deep sadness filled her brown eyes as she fought to
for control over her emotions. Tears burst forth from her still
all-too-human tear ducts.

“I love you too, Es.”

Tears of grief now ran freely from the
transhuman. She clung to the warmth of his hands against her face.
She tasted the saltiness of her tears, saw them well up on the edge
of her eyes, obscuring her vision. They ran down her face, crying
as she had never cried before.
Nate’s right,
she told
herself.
I’m still much too human yet to think I can’t feel
sadness.

And in the waning hours of his life, Dr.
Hilliard anticipated one more person’s grief. He gently wiped away
the tears from Es’ face. “My daughter, I will miss you, too.”