Forever Young

Chapter Eight. Guinea Pigs

Chapter Eight

Guinea Pigs 

Fifteen years had passed since Walt  volunteered to try the alphega diet. Now he, like many of the other residents was bored, tired of the unnatural daily routine and the inane games played by the inmates. Walt found some refuge in his HED. Despite his aversion, he had mastered the Myrian tongue, and followed the programmes with ease.

He often wondered what had happened to the Darsian and Bellican communities over the past few years, and thought he might find clues despite the highly censored nature of the programmes. Unfortunately, the news was a constant rehash of Myrian achievements in Arts and Science, a glorification of the military, and a celebration of the high level of culture enjoyed by the Myrian people. There was never any reference to other immigrant groups. The programmes always favourably compared the achievements of Myrian society to the barbaric levels supposedly existing in other Terran countries. Walt began to wonder if his people had ceased to exist. 

It came as quite a shock one morning when a news flash from MRP headquarters interrupted the entertainment.  

                                                                      "ALPHEGA for ALL!"

This was already the case at the Hollinger. Rick and Des, the two bachelors who had refused the diet, had long since passed away; Rick from a heart attack whilst trying to outpace another resident in the swimming pool, and Des from lung cancer. Everyone else seemed to be in perfect health.  

What would happen to the Alliance? Walt just knew that Howie would have nothing to do with any MRP policy, no matter how beneficial it might prove to be. Would they be able to survive? 

A month passed. Walt sat in front of his HED screen waiting to be lulled into the compulsory afternoon nap, called dream time by the staff. The sound of an alarm broke into the soporific HED program. 

"All residents are required to report to the boardroom immediately." 

Walt didn't recognize the authoritative male voice on the intercom. Something was wrong. Caroline always made routine announcements.  

When he entered the boardroom, Walter saw a grim faced Caroline sitting at the head of the huge walnut conference table. Other residents occupied their usual spots.

They had become so regimented over the years. Hilda was late as usual, probably dolling herself up. But where were George Vatne and his gorgeous wife, Millie? 

After Hilda had finally strutted to her place at the table, Caroline stood, wiping a tear from her usual stolid features. 

"Haven't I done everything in my power to make you happy here? How could you do such a thing?" 

Walt looked around the table. From the shocked looks and exaggerated shrugs it was obvious that no one else knew what she was talking about.  

"Some of you here must be in on the scheme. What a stupid, stupid thing you've done. Now I have state security breathing down my neck. You'd better confess." 

"To what?" said Walt, exasperated.  

"To the interrogators. You may as well go first, Walt. One is waiting for you in my office. For my sake tell him what he wants to know."  

Walt, fearing the worst, knocked on the oak-panelled door leading into Caroline's office. A booming bass baritone answered his timorous tap. 

"Come in."