Methuselah
A NanoPunk + Immortality SF story by elveloy
"Brek: Winning the Race for Immortality!" screamed the headline.
What!? Donald froze for a second, his hand clenched around the tiny e-reader. Had someone stolen his research? Who? How?... He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. There must be some mistake, he thought. There had to be a mistake. Most likely the writer had got their facts wrong. Taking another deep breath, he flicked the tiny screen to the left and read on.
"'Amaranthine is the drug of the future,' claims Jon Brek, CEO of Brek Industries. 'Used appropriately, Amaranthine can double, perhaps even triple, a normal lifespan.'
Speaking last night before a select crowd at Brek Industries' Annual Dinner, Jon Brek announced their new wonder drug Amaranthine, is on the verge of being approved by the FDA.
'We expect Amaranthine to be commercially available within the next six months,' said Jon Brek, smiling. "Now, obviously I can't show you a two hundred year old man, Brek Industries hasn't been around that long, but I'd like everyone to meet Mr Salvadore Morales. Mr Morales is one of our first clinical trial successes, and he is... one hundred and ten years old!'
The crowd erupted into applause as apparently a middle-aged man, this reporter could swear was fifty at most, jogged onto the stage, hands clasped above his head..."
A drug. Donald sat back, his hands trembling slightly. Just a drug. His research was safe.
Drugs were nothing. Anyone could make a drug.
No, his machines were the answer, tiny self-replicating machines that would last more than a pitiful hundred years, replacing every damaged cell as it occurred. His current subject had already lived four times longer than its normal lifespan. Unlike drug-enhanced flesh, his Nanobots would last for centuries. Maybe even longer. NanoLabs was going to rue the day they had thrown him out.
His mind went back to that fateful day for the hundredth time...
~~~
Donald entered the office and reluctantly seated himself in the chair placed for him, in front of the desk. What on earth did the Administrator, Ray Hobson, want to say to him that couldn't wait? He really didn't have time for this. His work was too important. Didn't Hobson know he was at a crucial stage in his experiment? He realised he was tapping his left foot unconsciously, and made a point of placing both feet flat on the floor under the chair. Ready for a quick get-a-way.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
The white-haired man behind the desk sat with fingers steepled, a grave look on his face.
"You'll have heard about our Research Division restructure?" The question was rhetorical and Hobson didn't pause for an answer. "Times are hard and we need to re-evaluate our Research. Some of the smaller... shall we say less tangible projects will have to be wound up, their resources moved to more commercially applicable projects. You've done some good work for the company over the years, Don, but your latest project... well, it's hardly practical, is it? I'm sorry, Don, but we're going to have to let you go."
"What?" Donald didn't understand the words he'd just heard.
"We're terminating your contract," said Hobson, more brutally. "Effective immediately. Officer Ling will go with you now to collect your personal belongings and escort you from the building."
"But my work? My immortality research? Who's going to carry on-"
"That's one of the projects that will cease," Hobson interrupted. "Colon cancer research will take over that laboratory. They need more room."
Donald sat still, unable to process what he'd been told. He'd worked at NanoLabs for twenty years, for heaven's sake. And more importantly, he was on the verge of completing his most important experiment so far. In fact, if the results of his last test were as he hoped, it would be the most significant invention of the century. Possibly the millennium.
He felt a hand touch his shoulder, lightly. "Let's go, sir," murmured Ling.
In a daze, Donald stood and left the room without a word. The security guard followed behind. Neither man saw Hobson twirl a circle in the air with one finger, then shake his head.
Ling watched as Donald stuffed his few personal possessions inside his daypack, gently putting out a hand as Donald automatically reached for his laptop. "Personal possessions only, sir," said Ling.
Donald flushed an ugly red. "Of course," he muttered. He stepped back from the laptop and gazed around the laboratory, his eyes going to a row of small glass boxes on a bench, each one containing a white mouse.
"But what about Methuselah?" he asked, urgently.
Ling looked blank. "Who?"
"Methuselah. My mouse. I can't leave him here. He's become more of a pet than a research subject," added Donald, trying not to sound too desperate.
Ling shrugged. One mouse was hardly going to matter one way or another and besides, he felt a bit sorry for the old chap. It wasn't going to be easy finding another job at his age. He must be all of forty.
"I suppose that would be all right. Which one is it?"
"That one," Donald pointed unerringly to one of the receptacles. "I'll take him with me," he added, suiting his actions to his words. "I'll bring the cage back tomorrow," he promised.
"What's that inside?" asked Ling suddenly. He peered suspiciously into the container.
"What? Oh that," said Donald, gazing at the tiny black object perched on the mouth of the feeding tube. "Looks like a housefly." He shook his head. "Get in anywhere, can't they?"
Both men watched as the insect left the tube and flew around the box, eventually settling on the back of the mouse. "Looks like Methuselah has found a friend," chuckled Donald.
Ling just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. The guy was a complete nut job. No wonder NanoLabs didn't want him anymore.
A few minutes later, Donald stood alone outside the locked steel door of NanoLabs. He walked slowly to the staff car park, got in his car and placed the glass box carefully on the seat beside him. He was several kilometres away before he allowed himself to smile.
~~~
Tap tap... Someone was knocking at the door but Donald was oblivious. The door swung open a few centimetres.
"Dad?" A small face topped by short brown hair poked inside. "Dad? Can we take Tabby to the doctor? I don't think she's feeling well."
"Huh? What did you say?" Donald swung around, frowning at having his concentration disturbed.
Patiently, the child repeated her request. "It's Tabby. She's not well. Can we please take her to the doctor?"
"Who?" For a moment Donald honestly struggled to remember who Tabby was. "Oh, you mean the cat! I'm sure she'll be fine. I don't really have time at the moment... What's the matter with her anyway?"
"She's sneezing and she doesn't want her dinner. Tabby always wants her dinner," the child added with determined emphasis.
Donald smiled. Nothing serious, then. "It won't hurt her to lose a couple of pounds," he chuckled. "She's probably just caught a cold," he said, already half-turning back to his desk. "Leave her alone to sleep it off."
"But Dad-"
"Not now, Stefanie. I haven't got time, and besides, I'm sure she'll be fine in a day or two."
He didn't see the frown crease his daughter's forehead.
Tabby was sick and Dad just didn't care. Stefanie was sure it was something more serious than a cold. Normally bright-eyed and full of beans—when not asleep in her basket—Tabby had been listless and tired for a few days now. Not her normal self at all. And it wasn't as if twelve was old for a cat, despite what Dad said. Lots of cats lived until twenty. She'd looked it up on Google.
Stefanie went downstairs, kicking moodily at the skirting board as she went.
She went into the lounge and glared at Methuselah, in pride of place on top of the china cabinet, running around inside his little plastic wheel. She bet anything, if Methuselah was sick, they'd be at the doctor's in no time.
Dad was crazy about his pet mouse. Stefanie wasn't allowed near Methuselah, not even to touch the cage. She thought if Dad had been able to forbid her from entering the lounge at all, he would have, but in a small house, that simply wasn't practical.
Something tiny flew around inside the cage and Stefanie stood on tiptoes for a closer look.
Eww! There was a fly in there, now sucking on the tip of Methuselah's water tube. Carefully she reached up and unfastened the cage door, her heart beating faster at her daring, but she couldn't leave the fly in there. Who knew what germs it would leave on the tube for the little mouse.
The fly didn't move and Stefanie waved her fingers in a shooing motion. In a flash, Methuselah scampered out of the cage and along the top of the cabinet. Stefanie's heart leapt into her mouth. Dad was going to kill her! Then she heard a sound which sent icy waves through her veins.
Meow.
Stefanie spun around to see Tabby coming toward her, tail raised in a question mark. Where was Methuselah? Stefanie hunted frantically for the little mouse. There! Behind the couch. Under other circumstances she would have hesitated but there was no time to be squeamish. She scooped Methuselah up in both hands and thrust him back inside the cage. Fingers trembling she fasted the catch. Phew! No harm done. Dad would never have to know.
On the plus side, it looked like she'd got rid of the fly.
Where was Tabby? Stefanie found her, munching something she'd picked up from the floor, and hustled her out of the lounge.
When Donald came down several hours later, he stared in horrified disbelief at the cage. Where was the fly? Had it somehow squeezed out of the mesh cage? Frantic, he hunted around the lounge and then the kitchen. He found two flies, but without his specialised equipment from the laboratory, he couldn't be sure which was the right one. To be on the safe side, he put both of them inside the cage.
He spent a fruitless hour observing them but in the end he had to give up for the night.
The next morning, he sat bleary-eyed at the breakfast table. Stefanie sat opposite, eating her toast, She looked happier than she'd been for a while. Donald made an effort to do the fatherly thing.
"How's Tabby?" he asked. "Her cold all better?"
"Fine," answered Stefanie, beaming. "In fact she's got more energy now than she's had for ages. She's like a new cat."