From: Bob Hurst Date sent: Tue, 01 Dec 1998 "The Geezer" Copyright 1998 by Bob Hurst "Well, Geezer, it's a good thing we found you when we did." "Wha . . .?" The old man felt consciousness flooding back around the taste of the illegal stim he drunk with the Edgies. He look up into a disgustingly beautiful and perfect face. "A little longer in that unhealthy Edge environment, and you'd have been too far gone for Rejuve," the Medtech said through perfect lips. "How the hell do you know that's not what I wanted?" the old man muttered, feeling the soft sheet and the nurturing gelbed enfolding him. The air smelled of springtime. "Oh, come on, Mr. Treadwell. Everybody wants Rejuvenation!" The nurse fussed with the sheet and examined the telemonitor. "I didn't give you permission to snoop!" A cough wracked his body. "Damn you interfering meddlers!" "We don't need permission, as you know. The Personal Life Protection Act of 2318 gives us the right." Soft music filled the room as the lights dimmed. "Isn't there something better than Caldwell? I mean, with all the centuries of music available to us, you have to pick a damn Galactic. Their music is as cold as interstellar gas." "What would you like to hear?" He thought for a moment, running all the schools of music through his mind. There were so many, and he'd heard them all a thousand times. "Something from the Dawn Age. Grateful Dead." "Who?" the Medtech asked, scrinching up her face in puzzlement. "No, not the Who, the Grateful Dead, which is what I was planning on being." The Medtech accessed her Link. "Oh," she said brightly. "A mid to late Twentieth Century band that influenced composers heavily in the Twenty-Second century during the Revival Period. Known for Acid Rock. Acid was an early psychedelic drug that was illegal at the time." "That's the one." "Imagine mind-altering substances being illegal," said the Tech. "Life must have been pretty dreary, then. I mean, what did they do with their time?" "Well the first days are the hardest days don't you worry anymore Cause when life looks like Easy Street there is danger at your door." "Uncle John's Band!" he said with delight. "How many centuries has it been?" He listened, then sang along as the lyrics suddenly leaped from the deeper recesses of his mind. "Come with me or go alone, he's come to take his children home." The old man smiled. "Life had it's good points, then.. Maybe I was ready to go home., though." "Still it seems like it must be the kind of existence the Edgies live today." "They're alive in ways we can't comprehend." The Tech looked puzzled. "But they . . . die. They can't afford Rejuve. Their genes aren't good enough." "Yeah, makes life precious, doesn't it?" "Yes, as you'll discover, again." "Hey, wait a minute! What the antideity have you done to me?" The Tech smiled proudly. "We started the Rejuve drugs two hours ago while you were still out from that illegal stim! Why ever would you drink that poison when you can buy anything you want at a Dream Shop?" "So as we speak, those damned drugs are purging my body of all the cells with damaged DNA and are causing new stem cells to replace them?" "Yes, of course!" "Well what the fuck did you do that for? I didn't give permission!" He tried to rise from the bed, but padded arms popped up and restrained him. "Everyone who can afford Rejuve wants it, and you, Mr. Treadwell, are worth about a billion creds. You can buy Rejuve from now until doomsday, if you want." "Big deal. Several lifetimes ago, I got serious about making a lot of creds. Waste of time." He held up his right arm and noticed that already his skin was less flaccid. "Did it ever occur to you idiots that I might not want Rejuve?" "Of course you do. Well, sometimes if people go too long, they start to think they're tired of living," the Medtech said. Her smug smile infuriated Treadwell. He wanted to shake it out of her, but he knew he never could. "After they get Rujuved, they're full of life again. You must have been looking for the Age Experience this time around." He really wanted to do something to annoy the Tech. "More volume on the music!" he ordered. He sang along with the chorus. "Ripple in still water. Where there is no pebble tossed or wind to blow." "That's not logical," said the Tech. "What would make a ripple in still water if not the wind or something thrown into it?" "You dumb dwelky that's the whole point!" "Well, Mr. Treadwell, there's no point in becoming abusive and insulting." She pouted. He smiled in triumph. "I didn't want Rejuve. Why do you think I was hanging around with Edgies drinking illegal stim?" "But that's not logical, either." In spite of all the genetic modifications and neural remodeling, there still were stupid people in the world, and this Medtech was one of them. "What's logic got to do with it? Maybe I'm just tired. Done it all. Twice." The Tech brightened. "Don't worry, you'll feel better after the Rejuve takes hold. Everybody always does. I'll be back tomorrow to start the phagocytic cells on removing all the old connective tissue." "Yes, I know all about it. Then the anabolic process will build me back up, and I'll be just fine." He sang the bass part on the last verse. "If I knew the waaaaaay, I would take you hoooooooooome." The lights went out, and he felt himself drifting off. # # # # # "Good morning, Mr. Treadwell," said the Tech as he surfaced from the dark pool of sleep. "Are we feeling more cheerful?" He did feel better, though he'd be damned before he'd admit it. "What's your name?" "Melody. I'm working on my fourth lifetime." "You should have amassed enough creds by now not to have to work." Melody made a production of checking his monitor, which was silly because the puter did most of the work, monitoring all his vital signs. "Kind of boring, isn't it?" "Checking you? It's . . . fun. I don't really have to do this. In my last lifetime, I made enough to get me through three Rejuves, at least." "What are you doing this lifetime, Melody?" She smiled at him. "Pleasure. Working provides me with some balance, but pure esthetics is my aim." "I did that twice. No, three." "I'm doing artsex right now. When I've started your phagocytic cells, I'm off to an exhibit." "Performing or viewing?" "Oh, performing! Our group of 14 is putting on a precision show tomorrow at the Central Square! We can do simultaneous orgasms." She smoothed the silky, pale blue uniform, and he noticed how it clung to a slender, but erotic body. "I'm really quite good. Superb, actually." She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. "I might even show you when your Rejuve is completed and you're stronger." He gave a tiny snort. "You doubt me?" Melody asked. "I was just remembering, Louisa. She was . . . special." "Oh, which lifetime?" "My first." "Where is she, now?" "Dead. An accident, two lifetimes ago. We'd gone our separate ways after Rejuve, of course, but I still remembered." One, lone tear trickled out of each eye. "Your phagocytic cells are working nicely," Melody said. "How gloriously wonderful," he said in a flat voice. "I wish you'd left me alone." "Oh, I'll make you happy to be alive when you're Rejuved," she said, with a smile. He felt a stirring in his body, but not in his mind. Then, the dark closed over him like a blanket. # # # # # The lights came on in his brain like a summer sunrise. He opened his eyes and saw Melody looking down on him. Sun streamed in the windows, lighting the room with a bright yellow. "You were doing so well, we just went right into neural regeneration without bringing you up to conscious level." "I've maintained that was possible ever since the beginning." "Oh?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "You were into Research one of your lives? Not many people do that. It's too hard." He stretched, enjoying the supple feel of his muscles. "Yeah, I was." "When?" She checked his reflexes. Her hand on his skin felt warm and electric. "My first lifetime. I invented Rejuve. Call me Dr. Faustus" A look of concern passed over Melody's face as she quickly checked the puter's evaluations. He laughed, a deep satisfying chuckle from deep inside. "Of course you don't believe me." Quickly she checked her Link. "Rejuve was invented five hundred years ago by . . ." "Dalton Treadwell," they said simultaneously. She looked at him in wonder, then back at her Link. He laughed at her bemusement, and she laughed with him. "It almost killed me. I was seventy-nine with two cancers when I tested it on myself." "That was a long, long time ago," Melody said softly. "Yes, and that's why I took to hanging out with the Edgies. I've done it all, Melody, at least twice. Last time, when I got to when I needed Rejuve, I decided it just wasn't worth it anymore. I had my kids long, long ago. I haven't seen one in three lifetimes. The other is dead." "Accident, of course," she said, gentleness and concern competing with what looked like lust. "Of course. Nobody has the courage just to end it." "You're past all that, now, aren't you," she said, letting the uniform fall into a heap on the floor. It wasn't a question. Her body was amazingly lush to have been so slim. Later, he lay there as she rose from the bed, smiling. "There, wasn't that worth being young again?" "You're very, very good, Melody." "Better than Louise?" "Louisa." "Well?" "Technically, yes. She can't hold a candle to you." "That's faint praise." Melody pouted. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to insult you at all. It's just that we were in love." "Oh, what a quaint, old-fashioned concept!" She clapped her hands in glee. "Music!" Treadwell ordered. "Something young. Something from my youth." He thought for a moment. "Simon and Garfunkel." "Good God! Don't jump! A boy sat on the ledge An old man who had fainted was revived." "Oh, it's almost like the neo-folkrockists of seventy-five years ago! How clever!" "It was brand new in the Twentieth Century. Damned near everything was brand new, then, before it all recycled." She ran her hands along his chest. "And you're brand new, now." He laughed. "Open the window. I want to feel the fresh air." "It's not really fresh, you know. We're in the Dome, and it's filtered, to keep out diseases and other unhealthy things." "I know, but I like the illusion." He grinned, and she smiled back, a perfect, blue-eyed, vacuous smile. "'Save the life of my child!' Cried the desperate mother." "What a bizarre song!" "It was deep social commentary, at one time." He stood before the window, feeling the air from the outside on his naked body. He looked out over the city below, from the vantage point of the Rejuve Clinic. The pattern was all too clear. In spite of all the neighborhoods made up to represent different times and places, it was all ersatz, like that place in Florida where he'd taken his children. "Epcot," he said. "What?" asked Melody. "Nevermind." He saw her accessing her Link. "When the spotlight hit the boy, And the crowd began to cheer, He flew away! Oh, my Grace, I've got no hiding place." "What kind of social commentary was that!" Melody said, her face angry and frightened. "That's horrible!" "Yes, wasn't it," said Treadwell. He pushed her away, placed his hands on the sill of the open window and looked at the ground far below. His muscles bunched. Melody screamed. "If I knew the waaaaay, I would take you hoooooome," he sang. Then he relaxed. He might try mountain climbing this time.