Chapter 6

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I went through two cans of peaches before my stomach was satisfied. I had an odd desire to shake myself and I gave into it, feeling a pleasant sensation spread through my muscles as I did. I heard a series of musical 'tink' sounds, like wind chimes bumping against each other, and stopped to search for the sound... only to blink in surprise as the sound suddenly stopped. I looked around just to be sure, then shook again, shifting back and forth like a dog shaking off after being drenched from a bath.

The almost-musical chime picked up again, and I smiled, suddenly understanding. My scales must be bumping against each other from how hard I was shifting, having the effect of hundreds of really tiny wind chimes.

That was neat. It was a pretty sound, and shaking off like this was pretty fun to do - not to mention being relaxing for my stretched and tired muscles.

I stopped shaking myself off and dropped into a sprawl against the floor, letting the tired muscles in my wings rest to recover. I let out a satisfied warble and started to zone out from the happy feeling left behind by being well fed. The voice on the recorder droned on, which actually made it easier to relax.

I wasn't sure how long I rested there before I blinked in excitement and felt my ear tufts rise with interest. What had that been?

I curled back towards the dictation machine and tapped the rewind button, then tapped play. The voice started up again.

"-ther incision above the fifth rib to-"

The voice broke off as a door opened, then shut. "Ah, Alex, thank you; I was just about to send for the next round of treatments. The subject is ready for them."

"The 'subject'? This is Nate. We know him, he worked here! I don't... how can you just call him 'the subject'?"

There was a clinking sound as if a tool had been dropped on a tray, followed by a sigh. "Because it is the subject. We've been through this - they stop being people the second we start our work. In a few more weeks it'll just be an egg, and a few days of observation after that it'll be moved off into holding with all the other subjects."

"It's not right. Why are we doing this? He's too old anyways; nobody this age ever makes it."

"That's half the reason right there. We've been having more and more success with older and older subjects; our knowledge of treatments and procedures have gotten better. We would have to try again eventually, and his poking around just meant we can try it now."

"Why would we have to do it eventually? Why are we even doing this at all? There are easier ways to prolong lives, easier ways to cure diseases. Do we really have to do this?"

There were a few seconds of silence, followed by another sigh. "You saw what was on that crashed ship. The records on it, the records of other alien life?"

"Yes."

"Did you pay attention to the lifespans of those aliens?"

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

Another second of silence. I had the impression the older-sounding speaker was shaking his head in frustration.

"Those aliens live for hundreds of years. Some of them are listed as living for nearly a thousand years, one of which is the dominant power in our region of space. Do you understand what that means?"

"That they have a lot of stories to tell around the campfire?" There was a frustrated sarcasm in the younger sounding voice.

"You could say that. They have a lot of stories to tell their grandchildren, and great grandchildren, and great, great, great, great grandchildren, who will all easily be alive in their lifespan. As opposed to us. No matter what advancements we make in extending the life of the human body, it will never compare. Four or five generations of humanity will pass in the time it takes one of them to reach adulthood - and they'll see dozens more come and go in the course of their life. Their Einsteins, their Hawkings, their Curies, will all only be getting started by the time ours take their last breath."

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