Stepping Stones (21 page)

Jake nodded, his vision blurring.  “Cameron
would have
liked that.  I think Megan will approve, too.”  Then, taking Lara’s hand, “Tell me something, Lara.  Please.  I have to know.”

“What?”

Jake swallowed, trying to find words to voice a question that had plagued him from the
very
beginning.  “I know
that creating
our child was a means for you to escape,
at least at first,
” he said.  “Once
we
left
Earth, you could have
stopped
the child
whenever you wanted.  Why didn’t you?”

Lara thought back to the first moment
she had
first gazed upon this universe.  Then, life had
meant
nothing more to her than a clever arrangement of molecules and atoms.  Now, holding the tiny being
she had
created, she knew that to express her feelings would require far longer than the few seconds she had le
ft.  “I don’t know,” she said
, her eyes shining, a smile playing across her lips.  “
To quote a very special human, l
et’s just say
that
it seemed like a good idea at the time.
  And it was.
”

Lara
squeezed Jake’s hand.  Then her fingers slowly opened . . . and she was gone.

She waited for them among the stars, fighting the compulsion to flee.  Although she could not yet see the enemy, she
felt them
approaching
.  She could
also feel
their hate, and she was afraid.

On the edge of the galaxy’s nearest arm
,
she could make out
a
tiny point of light called Regula.  She regarded it one last time, and the planet circling fourth from the center. 
H
er thoughts
returned
briefly
to a bird
she had once watched there, moving through
a grassy field.  Then she resumed her vigil.

There!
 
She could see the Dark Ones now.  As expected, they were arrowing directly for the Regula system and the
star
at its center, intent
on
their strategy of incineration.

As death hurtled c
loser, she unfolded her fields, and the
interstellar vastness pulsed and
coursed and
shimmered with the energy of her essence.  Still, they did not see her. 
Fighting her
terror, she forced herself
to move
closer. 
Suddenly
the Dark Ones hesitated.  Faltering as if in distress, she turned to flee.  Looking back, she saw them veer from Regula,
now
coming straight for her.

She
had no illusions concerning her chance of escape
.  The time for
that
had long since passed.  Capture was inevitable.  Capture, and death.  Yet still she fled—
drawing away the enemy from Regula—
hoping the end would be easy, knowing it would not.

Her final thoughts were of Adam.

Jake stood beside the still form on the bed. 
Lara
appeared peaceful
now
, at rest.  Reaching down, he brushed
back
a lock of hair from her forehead, then gently closed her eyes and lifted the child from her lifeless embrace.  Adam was sleeping, his breath coming easily.

What am I to do with him?
Jake wondered numbly.  T
hinking of Megan, he bundled the infant in
a blanket and moved to the door
. 
It was still dark outside
, but a faint glow on the horizon heralded the coming dawn.  Noticing something odd in the sky, Jake paused in the doorway.

Shining like a beacon, a strange star traveled the constellations, burning more brightly than any around it.  All at once it swelled,
grew dazzlingly brilliant
,
and
died to an ember.  As it grew dim Jake looked down, noticing that Adam had awakened and was watching, too.  The child stared into the heavens until the errant star
had
disappeared.  Then he turned his eyes to Jake.  Solemnly, he raised a tiny hand to touch
his father’s cheek.  And with
a flood of comprehension
,
Jake understood what had happened.  He knew what Lara had done, and why, and what it had cost her.

A
breeze
moved
up the valley, carrying with it the smells of the fields and the scent of pine and the sounds of the colony’s livestock
waking in their pens.  For a long moment
Jake stood in the doorway, his mind
filled
with thoughts of Lara,
a stranger
from another universe who had given him a child,
and a beautiful new world,
and in the end, her life.

A
s light broke o
ver the settlement, Jake turned and gazed one last time at the still form on the bed.  Then, h
olding his son safe in his arms, filled with a sense of sadness and wonder and
a
deep, abiding
gratitude
for the
mystery of life, he stepped out
to face the dawn.

There’s Always a Catch

D
r. Isaac
Greenbaum
paced t
he cramped confines of the television-studio
waiting room. 
Struggling
to ignore a premonition of disaster that had settled like a stone in the pit of his stomach, he contem
plated the probable consequences
of his
upcoming news
announcement.  People being what they were, he suspected
that he would
undoubtedly
tumble
from his position as the most
honored
scientist on Earth, instead becoming one of the most reviled.

How did things go so wrong?
he wondered miserably.  Only days before
he had
been preparing his
research for publication.  Then, against his will,
he’d become an object of adulation, a situation for which, however flattering,
he had
been totally unprepared.

Then his real problems began
.

Glancing around the claustrophobic cubicle in which
they had
deposited
him to await the broadcast,
he spotted yesterday’s
newspaper on the coffee table.  In bold banner letters, a single word blazed across the top of page one:  IMMORTALITY!

Damn TriBionics, he thought angrily.  And damn the media for spreading their premature announcement
s
to every corner of the world.  Of course, TriBionic stock had
soared following the press release. 
Great for shareholders, but
his
would be
the na
me that was
remembered when the truth
finally came out
.

“Dr.
Greenbaum
?”

Dr.
Greenbaum
turned, finding himself facing
the most dazzling
ly beautiful
woman
he had
ever seen.  “
Uh, y
es?”

“I’m Rhonda Davidson,” the woman said, extending her hand.  “It’s an honor to meet you, Doctor.”

Her grasp was warm and firm.  As he shook her hand, Dr.
Greenbaum
forced himself
to
stop
gawk
ing
. 
He had seen the newswoman
many times on television, but in person she
was
even more striking than she
was
on TV—tall, poised, beautiful—
and possessing
a directness of manner
in her on-air interviews
that he
had always
found attractive.

“The network appreciates your granting us this exclusive interview,” Ms. Davidson continued, checking her watch.  “We still have some time before the broadcast.  I thought perhaps we could get to know each other a
bit
before then. 
Perhaps
talk about the interview.”  Pulling a packet of index cards from her pocket, she moved to the couch.  Patting a cushion, she indicated for him to join her.

Attempting to hide his nervousness, Dr.
Greenbaum
sat.  “Ms. Davidson, I agreed to—”

“Please.  Call me Rhonda.”

“All right.  Rhonda.  I agreed to appear on your newscast with the caveat that I be allowed
to make a personal statement. 
You understand this?”

“I understand your request,” said Rhonda, glancing at her cards.  “
Of course
, I have to ask wha
t you plan to say
.  We can’t just—”

“No statement, no interview.”

Rhonda quickly backtracked.  “No,
that’s
all right, Doctor.  You
. . . you
can make your statement.  But is there some reason you can’t tell me what it involves?  It
is
regarding
your regeneration therapy, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why—”

Dr.
Greenbaum
raised his hand.  “No offense, but I’m not in a
very trusting mood at the moment
.  Without my permission—without even consulting me, for that matter—you and others in the media have made public the results of my research.  Through no fault of mine certain elements were ignored, elements I want understood by everyone equally and at the same time.  This will be a worldwide broadcast, correct?”

Rhonda nodded
.  “We’re transmitting live.  Practically e
very man, woman, and child on the planet
with access to the internet
will be watching.”

“Good.”

Rhonda regarded Dr.
Greenbaum
quizzically.  Then, realizing he intended to say nothing more on the subject, she
pocketed her cards,
rose from the couch,
and again glanced
at her watch.  “Air time is in five minutes, Doctor.  Shall we?”

“. . . extremely fortunate to have with us the
researcher who is
responsible for the
recent
breakthrough in regenerative biotechnology, Dr. Isaac
Greenbaum
.  Thank you for joining us
today
, Doctor.  Perhaps you could begin by telling us how you came to unlock the secret of aging?”

Dr.
Greenbaum
squinted into the studio lights.  A battery of cameras stared back, thickets of cables traversing the floor in all directions.  Nervously, Dr.
Greenbaum
returned his gaze to Rhonda, who was seated across from him at a low table.  “Of course,” he said, deciding to put off his anno
uncement for the moment
.

“You began in cancer research?”

“That’s right.  In many ways, my regeneration discoveries were serendipitous.”

“They were accidental?  How so?”

“Well, curiously enough, the two subjects are closely related,” Dr.
Greenbaum
explained, feeling his nervousness beginning to dissipate as he moved into familiar territory.  “First let me give you a little background.  Many primitive cells possess the ability to replicate indefinitely and are, in a sense, immortal.  In more complex organis
ms like man
, cells specialize to perform specific functions for the benefit of the whole.  Unfortunately, the more specialized a cell
is
, the less readily it
is
able to reproduce.  A human neuron, for instance, almost completely lacks that ability.”

“And being able to replicate indefinitely means immortality?”

“Yes, if you’re referring to a single-celled organism.  In a multicellular animal like man, it’s not that simple.  Some tissues in our bodies already replace themselves constantly—sk
in cells, for example—yet still
they age
in time
.

“And how does your cancer
research
bear on this?”

“A cancer, or neoplastic growth, starts from a single cell in which the molecular mach
inery governing replication goes
awry, permitting it to grow unchecked.”  Dr.
Greenbaum
paused, recalling that Rhonda had cautioned him to keep his scientific explanations short.  “What caught my attention was that a neoplasm often arises from highly specialized tissues that previously lacked the ability to reproduce,” he continued, doing his best to abbreviate his response.  “In pursuing this area I discovered the Aging Triad—three separate genes that govern the aging process in every cell of our bodies.  From there it was a straightforward matter to develop blocking enzymes that induce regeneration and prevent aging.”

Dr.
Greenbaum
hesitated, sensing
that he had
lost Rhonda toward the end.

“In other words, you’ve unlocked the secret of immortality,” Rhonda pushed ahead, filling the breach.  “You must be extremely proud of your work and the benefit it promises mankind,” she added, moving
smoothly
to her next topic.

Dr.
Greenbaum
’s brow furrowed.  “At first, yes.  Now I’m not so sure.”

“I don’t understand.  You’ve given the world the gift of life.  From a personal standpoint, let me say that the possibility of never aging, of living forever, has changed the way I look at things.  It’s as if an invisible weight has been lifted from my shoulders.  I can’t begin to describe it.”

Dr.
Greenbaum
leaned closer.  “Let me ask you something, Rhonda.  Do you have children?”

“No.”

“Do you
plan
to?”

Puzzled, Rhonda shrugged.  “Someday, maybe.  Why?”

“Consider this.  What will life on Earth be
like
a hundred years from now?  Two hundred?  Three hundred?  Will life be worth living when your children, and their children, and their children’s children choke the face of our planet—and no one has died to make room?”

Rhonda frowned, sensing the interview veering in a direction she hadn’t anticipated.  “We’ll find a solution,” she answered confidently.  “Mandatory birth control, perhaps.
  Space travel to new worlds.  Whatever.
”

“Possibly.  But there’s a more serious problem.  Man’s very existence arose from a process of natural selection.  Life evolves through random variations, with members of each new generation
possibly
better suited to a changing environment.  I fear that the application of my findings will result in a complete
genetic
stagnation of
our
race.”

“You can’t be suggesting
that
we ignore your breakthrough,” Rhonda objected.

“No.  For better or worse, TriBionics will, for a price, make the results of my work available to all mankind.”

Rhonda brightened.  “That’s a relief.  Just exactly how—”

“I want to add something
here
,” Dr.
Greenbaum
interrupted, deciding the time had come for honesty.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  T
urning to
speak directly to the camera,
he addressed
the peoples of the world.  “My reason for being here today is to apologize for the p
remature release of my research,” he said.  “
An important aspect has
not yet been made public.  It is
my duty to do so now.”

He hesitated, then forged ahead, speaking slowly and deliberately.  “In every mammalian organism studied to date,
including man
, the Aging Triad has proved to be irreversibly activated during early embryonic development.”

“What does that mean?”
asked Rhonda
.
  “In layman’s terms?”

Everyone in the studio waited for Dr.
Greenbaum
to continue.  And with them the world waited as well, hoping against hope.  But deep down, everyone
already suspected
the truth.  It was something our race had learned long ago, a truth that time and experience had burned into our collective consciousness:  No matter how good something sounds
at first
. . . there’s
always
a catch.

“The immortality treatments must begin in utero, at least
seven
months prior to birth,” said Dr.
Greenbaum
.  “We can offer our future children the gift of
immortality
.  They and those coming after
them
will
have the chance to
live forever, God help them.  But not us.
  Not us.
”

“
But
. . .”

“I’m sorry.”  Dr.
Greenbaum
lowered his head.  “Our generation
—everyone now living and those about to be born—
will be the last
to gr
ow old,” he said softly.  “Others may live forever, but we will not.  We will be
the
last
to die.”