The Lorel Experiment (Prequel to the Okal Rel Saga)

Third Generation (FINAL)

Sandrine took over No-Rad as well as all of Self Evolved's public R&D facilities, freeing Damien to manage politics and take care of his declining health as cancer stalked him with increasing ferocity.

Cancer, they had always known, was inevitable. It was an intrinsic risk for anyone with even some regenerative capacity. VRs without the usual commercial expiration feature died of it occasionally, and Damien much older than any of them.

Being prepared did not help, naturally, and Sandrine was as distressed as any loving wife could be the day it was finally diagnosed in Damien. She devoted herself to his treatment, with energy. No one else was as qualified to treat a regenerative disease as was Sandrine.

It took years, in which Sandrine nearly lost her husband a couple of times and Damien was often confined to bed, but in the end she triumphed and he got better. Their son, Cryil, and daughter, Amanda, were children then, starting to define their own lives. A blow up took place over the family Sevolites shortly after Damien recovered enough to take an active interest once again.

"I don't know what's happened," he told his wife. "You will have to review all the changes you introduced into the family Sevolites, to ensure longevity. You may have over done it in terms of the generalized intelligence or personality factors. They're not right, and they are in daily contact with our children. It's frightening. Be thorough. If we have to, we will simply delete the lot of them and start over. We can afford to wait, now. Thanks you to," he smiled, "for saving me. And getting an atmosphere in place, on GL-N1, is taking longer than anticipated. We can start a new crop, with less erratic tendencies."

"I will check into it," Sandrine said. And she did. The report she gave Damien, eventually, concluded that the family Sevolites were trust worthy despite their eccentricities. He did not pay much attention, however, due to the effects of his relapse and the drugs Sandrine developed to combat it. From then on, he spent as much time in bed as he did taking part in the family, and very little time working. Sandrine acted for him.

Damien's last good day came in the thirtieth year of their marriage, one New Year's Eve.

Self-Evolved threw a party in Toronto, Canada, where Damien. He looked drained but still handsome despite his 120 years, the light of intelligence in his affectionate, brown eyes somewhat dimmed as he looked across the table at his brilliant wife.

Sandrine sat drinking her cocktail, looking out over an open balcony on a major sports event to benefit charity, wherein the best of local athletes competed with each other for trophies and cash prizes donated by Self-Evolved in honor of the "achievements of natural man".

Sandrine found the crowd more interesting than the uniformly fit and sleek competitors. Members of the audience represented the full, cornucopia of human variation. Sandrine noticed a drably dressed man on the arm of a woman who wore wearing violently clashing colors that made her think of her mother's stories about Tangerine Orange. She sympathized with the mother of a rampaging boy and with the slow, painful movements of an old woman. Compared to them, Toronto's finest athletes were a bore.

"Hah," Damien sorted, with a lift of his chin towards the huge screen behind them where a sprint was being featured. "Any VR could beat that score."

Sandrine smiled at him with tolerant sorrow. He didn't look old. But his mouth clenched in the way of old men who clung to bad ideas like children clutching worn out teddy bears, and his mind was no longer able to keep things separate. She made sure he didn't speak in public, these days.

"Cyril should compete," said Damien.

Amanda leaned forward and covered his hand with hers. "We discussed that. Remember?" she said, patiently.