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diff --git a/59285-0.txt b/59285-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07c3a36 --- /dev/null +++ b/59285-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,469 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59285 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + until life do us part + + BY WINSTON MARKS + + _It's a long life, when you're + immortal. To retain sanity you've got + to be unemotional. To be unemotional, + you can't fall in love...._ + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from + Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1955. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +It was a deathless world, but a woman was dying. + +Anne Tabor lay limp and pale, her long, slender limbs making only +shallow depressions on the mercury bath which supported her. Webb +Fellow stood over her awaiting the effects of the sedative to relieve +her pain. + +His title was _Doctor_, but almost everyone in this age had an M. D. +certificate with several specialties to his credit. Webb Fellow was +simply one who continued to find interest and diversion in the field +of physiological maintenance. + +He stood tall and strong above her, lean-bellied, smooth-faced and calm +appearing, yet he didn't feel especially calm. As the agony eased from +Anne's face he spoke softly. + +"I'm glad you came to me, Anne." + +She moistened her lips and spoke without opening her eyes. "It was +you or Clifford--and Cliff hasn't practiced for a century or more. +It's--it's quite important to me, Webb. I really want to live. Not +because I'm afraid of dying, but...." + +"I know, Anne. I know." + +Everyone in Chicago knew. Anne Tabor was the first female of that city +to be chosen for motherhood in almost a decade. And in the three days +since the news had flashed from Washington, Anne Tabor had generated +within the blood-stream of her lovely, near-perfect body, a mutated +cancerous cell that threatened to destroy her. Mutant leukemia! + +"Just relax, dear. We have the whole city of Chicago to draw on for +blood while we work this thing out." + +He touched a cool hand to her fevered forehead, and the slight motion +stirred the golden halo that her hair made on the silvery surface of +the mercury. + +The word, "dear", echoed strangely in his ears once he had said it. Her +eyes had opened at the expression of sentiment, and now they were wide +and blue as they examined him. A tiny smile curved her pale lips. "Did +I hear correctly?" + +"Yes, dear." He repeated the word deliberately, and for the first time +since his student days he felt the web of his emotions tighten and +twist into a knot of unreason. + +She mustn't die ... not now! + +Her smile widened with her look of mild amazement. "Why Webb, I do +believe you mean it!" + +"You have always been high in my affections, Anne." + +"Yes, but--_it's a long life_. Such a long life!" + +_That damned phrase again!_ The essence of sanity, they called it. The +cliche of cliches that under-scored this whole business of immortality. +_Be not concerned for the frustrations of the moment. All obstacles are +transient--all obstacles and all emotions. The price of immortality is +caution, patience, temperance. Deep personal attachments lead to love, +love leads to jealousy, jealousy to un-saneness, insanity to violence_, +violence to-- + +All he had said was that she was high in his affections, but no one +spoke of such things any more. When one did, it was considered that +more than conventional promiscuity was involved in his intentions. + +He turned away abruptly and studied the dials that registered her +blood-pressure, pulse and metabolism. Incredible how even women three +hundred years old remained sensitive to the slightest sign of infantile +passion in their men. And more fantastic yet, that he, Webb Fellow, +of the original generation of immortals some seven hundred years old, +should find the destructive spark of possessiveness still alive in his +semantically adjusted nervous system. + +Mechanically he noted the systole and diastole lines on the revolving +chart and ordered an attendant to administer whole blood. Before he +left her he turned back for a moment. "It shouldn't be more than 24 +hours, Anne, and I promise you there won't be any impairment of your +maternal capacity." + +He was startled to note that tears welled into her eyes. "Thank you, +Webb. Clifford was worried that I might be disqualified." + +"Nonsense! Clifford hasn't kept up on things." He strode away without +further comment, but as he stepped from surgery into pathology he was +troubled. Why was Clifford so worried about her? Did Clifford think +that Anne would choose _him_ to father her child? + +The thought struck like a snake. Before he could block it the fangs +were deep, and the venom of adolescent jealousy raced from brain to +endocrines to blood-stream, poisoning his whole nervous system. + +_It's a long life!_ + +He resorted to the old antidote himself, despising his weakness as he +breathed the words. They came out as a sigh. He discovered that he was +searching his memory to determine whether he or Clifford could lay +claim to Anne by seniority. + +Seniority? What damned nonsense was that? Anne had traded back and +forth between Clifford and him for at least 250 years--with uncounted, +trivial alliances with how many other men? + +But the others didn't count. It was he and Clifford whom Anne +preferred, just as he and Clifford had discussed on countless occasions +Anne's perpetual attraction to them both. Anne _was_ Clifford's +favorite, and he'd made no secret of it. + +"Over here, Webb. We have it!" It was Porter, the head staff +pathologist holding out a small vial of crimson-clear liquid. "This +ferric-protein salt should cure our famous lady quite quickly. It +played sudden hell in the culture." + +"Oh, yes? Fine. Thank you, Porter. Thank you very much!" + +The narrow-shouldered pathologist gave him a second look. "Certainly. +Don't mention it." He paused then asked bluntly, "Did she name you for +paternity?" + +Webb managed to hold the vial steady to the light, but his voice was a +shade too taut and high. "Not yet--that is, we haven't discussed it. +It's a possibility, I suppose." + +"I suppose," Porter mocked gently. "You with the highest +genetic-desirability rating in the State, give or take a couple of +counties." + +Yes, there were a couple other males in Illinois with as high a genetic +rating as Webb Fellow, and one of them was Clifford Ainsley. + +The obvious question thrust itself upon Webb for the first time. Was +that why Anne Tabor had seemed to concentrate her favors upon him and +Clifford? Had she actually anticipated the eventuality of being chosen +for motherhood, and had her criterion for male companionship been +simply a high genetic rating? + +_It's a long life._ Even with such unlikely odds against the +contingency, he supposed any qualified female secretly nurtured the +hope that someday-- + +With the inexplicable tension mounting in him he passed the vial along +to an assistant with instructions for administering it. Anne would be +in no condition to discuss the matter for another day or two. + +But he must know. He must know whether she had already chosen Clifford. + +He slipped into a light street-jacket, caught an express to top-side +and engaged a taxi. His finger was poised over the destination dial +before he realized with a start that he had forgotten the five-digit +number for Clifford's address. It had been that long since he had +called on his old friend. + +Friend? The concept seemed suddenly strange. How long since their +friendship had actually dissolved into an unacknowledged rivalry? + +Nonsense. He and Clifford had both been uncommonly busy with their +respective professions. And since Clifford had branched from medicine +into robotics, their paths and interests had simply diverged. +Alternating almost weekly between the two men, Anne Tabor had kept each +more or less informed of the other's activities, but somehow he and +Clifford had ceased looking each other up. + +The directory gave him Clifford's number, and he dialed it. The small +vehicle lifted quickly, slipped into the invisible traffic pattern and +began applying the dialed code-address to the electronic grid that +cross-hatched Chicago like a mammoth waffle. As traffic cluttered ahead +on one particular striation, the taxi banked smoothly and right-angled +to the next parallel course and proceeded. + +Neat, safe, fool-proof. Perfect transportation within proscribed +geometrical limits, Webb thought. An infinite number of routes from +one point to another--like the course of a human life--but all within +certain proscribed limits. + +_It's a long life._ + +The course of a man's life could be considered a passage with infinite +possibilities only if he were allowed to backtrack occasionally. Was +that what he was doing? Had life grown so dull that he was seeking the +diversion of immaturity again? + +Immortality. + +Was it really so important? Once there had been a time when love, +open, unashamed love had been accepted as one of life's strongest +motivations. And it wasn't just a feeling of jealous possessiveness. +There was a feeling of mutuality in it, a tenderness, an unselfishness +and closeness of communion between man and woman. + +How had this exalted condition become debased into the casual +association that now existed between the sexes? Debased? That was a +loaded term. What was the matter with him? Anne Tabor was a lovely, +desirable creature, but no more lovely, no more desirable than a +hundred other females he knew. + +An odd, almost unique feeling of shame swept over him as his cab sank +to the landing strip on Clifford's apartment building. He must conceal +his state of mind from Clifford or be judged a complete imbecile. + + * * * * * + +"Well, Webb! This is a surprise." Cliff's face was entirely without +emotion. "Anne! It's about Anne, isn't it?" + +"Anne will be fine." + +"Good, good! You startled me, standing there in the door like a +messenger of doom. I thought for a moment--well, things wouldn't be the +same without little Annie, would they?" + +They had moved into Cliff's apartment, and Webb shrugged out of his +jacket. The spacious quarters and expensive appointments reminded Webb +of Clifford's wealth. + +"The robot business must be thriving," Webb remarked. "Anne didn't +mention such luxury over here." + +"The girl is tactful, my friend. Tactful, sweet, intelligent." + +Webb looked up quickly. He had seated himself, and Clifford stood +before him in a stiff, almost challenging pose. "Am I welcome here?" +the physician asked bluntly. + +"Certainly, certainly. We'll always welcome you here. Nothing need be +changed just because Anne is to have a child. Nothing, that is, except +the customary observance of monogamous convention until the child is +born and raised." + +A pound of lead sagged in Webb's stomach. "Then--Anne has named you for +paternity?" + +Clifford's slender, well-made body lost itself in the precise center of +an over-size chair, he looked at Webb thoughtfully. "Well, practically. +We were discussing it the other night when she had the first symptoms +of this attack." He rubbed his hairless chin. "Why? Did you especially +aspire to the noble station of parenthood?" + +The lazy sarcasm was salt in the wound. With difficulty, Webb kept +his face expressionless. "When I heard the news, naturally I gave the +possibility some consideration. That's why I came over here." + +"I see. Anne didn't tell you." + +"She was in considerable distress when they brought her in. I--I didn't +ask her." + +In spite of the raven-black hair and youthful face, there was something +about Clifford that Webb didn't like, a hardness, a lack-luster +indifference verging on boorishness. The thought of losing Anne +completely for more than eighteen years to this man was more painful +even than Webb had anticipated. + +Impulsively he said, "For old time's sake, Cliff, will you do me a big +favor?" + +The engineer stared at him and waited. + +"Take a vacation. Disappear for a few months." + +The dark eyebrows remained in a straight line. "And run out on Anne? +You aren't serious." + +"I am." + +Clifford laughed without smiling. "You'd better head for hormone harbor +and take _yourself_ a vacation, old man. You're becoming senile." + +"Then you won't withdraw?" + +"Of course not. You're asking more than a favor. You're asking me to +offend Anne. These things are important to females." + +"It's important to me, too, Cliff." + +"Well, I'll be--" The smaller man rolled to his feet and put his hands +on his hips. "I never thought to see the day when honored Elder Webb +Fellow would come muling around like a sub-century freshman. Of all the +anachronistic drivel!" + +"You see?" Webb said eagerly, "It isn't important to you at all. Why +can't you do this for me, Cliff? I--I just can't stand the thought of +being without Anne all those years." + +"Relax, Webb. _It's a long life._ Anne will be back in circulation +before you know it." He paced to a low desk and extracted a small +address book from a drawer. "If you're short of female acquaintances at +the moment you can have these. I won't be needing them for awhile." + +He flipped the book at Webb. By chance the cover opened, caught the +air and slanted the book up in its course so it struck the physician's +cheek with a slap. The faint sting was the detonator that exploded all +the careful restraint of seven centuries. + +Webb arose to his feet slowly and moved toward Clifford. "So +medicine was too elementary for you? Human physiology and behaviour +has no unsolved problems in it, you said once. So you went into +robotics--positronic brains--infinite variety of response, with built +in neuroses and psychoses. Human behaviour was too stereo-typed for +you, Clifford. Everyone was predictable to seven decimal places. You +were bored." + +"You have it about right," the engineer said insolently. He let his +arms drop to his sides, relaxed, unconcerned at the tension in the +physician's voice. + +"You build fine chess-playing machines, I hear," Webb said softly, +gradually closing the distance between them. "Your mechanical geniuses +have outstripped our finest playwrights and novelists for creativity +and originality. You've probed every conceivable aberrated twist of +human nature with your psychological-probabilities computers. You've +reduced sociology and human relations to a cipher--" + +Clifford shrugged. "Merely an extension of early work in general +semantics--the same work that gave us mental stability to go with +physical immortality. Certainly you don't disparage--" + +"I'm disparaging nothing," Webb broke in. "I'm merely pointing out your +blind spot, your fatal blind spot." + +"Fatal?" + +"Yes, Clifford, fatal. I'm going to kill you." + +The words seemed to have no effect. Not until Webb's powerful surgeon's +hands closed about his neck did Clifford go rigid and begin his futile +struggle. + +Webb did not crush the larynx immediately. He squeezed down with slow, +breath-robbing pressure, feeling for the windpipe under his thumbs. +Clifford gasped, "_'Sa long life, Webb_ ... don't ... commit suicide." + +"It's a long life, but not for you, my stupid friend. Sure, they'll +execute me. But you won't have her. Never again, do you hear?" + +Clifford's eyes were closed now, and Webb knew that the roaring in his +victim's ears would be blotting out all external sound. The knowledge +infuriated him, and he screamed, "You fool, I pleaded with you. I took +your insults and gave you every clue you needed--didn't you recognize +my condition? You fool! You brilliant, blind fool!" + +Clifford collapsed to his knees, and Webb let him go with one final, +irrevocable wrench that certified his death. + +Clifford's death and his own. The penalty for murder was still capital +punishment, and in his own case Webb acknowledged the logic and +necessity of such harsh consequences. + +If there was one activity that immortal, 28th Century Man could no +longer afford, it was the luxury of falling in love.... + + * * * * * + +Webb stood back and looked down at his crumpled victim. The heavy +pressure was subsiding from his temples, and the gray film of +irrational hate faded from his vision. + +"Cliff--I--" Then full horror closed in on him and he choked off. His +hands felt slick and slippery, but it was his own sweat, not blood. The +tactile memory of his fingers squeezing, crushing Clifford's throat, +fed details of touch, texture and temperature to his tortured but +clear brain. His surgeon's fingers were twitching, trying to tell him +what they had discovered moments ago, but a more over-whelming thought +blocked the message. + +_I've taken a man's life ... and my own. And ruined Anne's happiness. +I've brought her tragedy instead of happiness._ + +No, not tragedy. Inconvenience. It would still be a long life for Anne. +She would find a suitable mate, then her child would quickly erase the +memory of this day. + +Still, he had committed murder, the first deliberate murder the world +had known in centuries. "Damn you!" he screamed down at the body. "Why +didn't you protect yourself?" + +"Oh, I did, Webb, I did!" + +Webb spun to face the direction of the voice behind him. His eyes +must be playing tricks--an after-image, perhaps. "Who are you?" Webb +demanded. + +"Clifford Ainsley. The prototype, that is, in the flesh and not a +roboid." He nodded at the body on the floor. "Ainsley the Second. +Strictly a lab job." + +"Cliff? Oh, my God!" Webb fell into a chair and sobbed with relief. + +Clifford Ainsley came to him and put a hand to his shoulder. "I'm truly +sorry, Webb, but it was better this way. We can be thankful that I +anticipated your actions." + +Webb looked up. "You--expected me to murder you?" + +"The p c--probability computation--was remarkably high. You see, I ran +your genetic pattern into the computer, added the double stress factor +of Anne's serious illness _and_ her forthcoming motherhood, and the +subtotal spelled out a four letter word." + +Webb nodded slowly. "Love." + +"Right. And you know the corollary to that. When I punched in the +details of your relationship with Anne _and_ me, well, the next +subtotal read--homicide." + +The expression of relief in Webb's face changed to show the hurt he +felt. "But if you knew all this, why did you have to play out this +scene, even with a remote control robot?" + +"To discharge the murder impulse, my friend. I had to play it straight, +reacting just as I would to your demands, had I not known of your +condition. Otherwise the computations would have been based on false +inter-reaction premises. And until you made the attempt on my life, you +were a real danger to me--and yourself. Now the shock of your murder +attempt and the relief at your failure have dissipated that danger." + +It was true, Webb admitted to himself. No longer did he feel the least +malice toward Cliff. But bitterness was still rank on his tongue. "So +how does the story end? Does boy get girl or not?" + +"Of course. Boy always gets girl, if he wants her. _It's a long life._ +At this phase she wants me." + +"Is that your own opinion or just another subtotal of the computer?" + +"Both." + +"But--how does it really end. What happens when you punch the _total_ +key?" + +"You ask that, Webb? You, one of the very first to embrace the rigors +of physical immortality? My dear friend, _there is no total key_." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Until Life Do Us Part, by Winston Marks + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59285 *** |