There were tears in Janet's eyes as she tried to control herself. 'Can I ask how long?'
'A few months to two years.'
'Oh, Doctor Slater,' she said, but nothing more.
'Okay, Janet. Go and compose yourself. Contact Mrs Masinghe and find out what I need to do to be ready for the exploratory op on Monday, and when my treatment appointments will be at Truro. They’ll be a priority of course but, if there’s a choice, let's have them first thing in the morning. Keep a lid on this, Janet, at least until I've told department heads and my family.'
She rose slowly from the chair, dabbed her eyes with a tissue and left me to my thoughts. Was I the only one who wasn’t going to cry? I guessed I'd shed all my tears when I found out about Mario. His loss was the end of my life, anyway. Everything else was just existing, not living.
I left my office through the side door and walked the length of the corridor, leaning heavily on my stick and rang the bell beside the new double doors at the end. I heard the electric lock click to give me access, pushed the door and I was in the short corridor to Cadma's private apartment. He needed to know about my illness because I’d no longer be able to spend the rest of my life learning from and about him and his people.
I stopped in my tracks. I was wrong – I would be able to spend the rest of my life learning about him, but my life would no longer be as long as I'd envisaged. I'd have to take a lesser role at Goonhilly too. I'd need to speak to the powers that be. Tim would be a faithful replacement for me, as he had been during my coma. It was unreal to be so concerned about my work when my life was slipping away from me, but my work had become my life since the Armstrong show and even more so since I’d built up my rapport with Cadma. Somehow, I must maintain that relationship. It was all I had left. I mustn't let them prevent me seeing Cad.
In the days of almost miraculous good health, I’d expected to reach and maybe pass my hundredth birthday, now I would probably not reach thirty-seven.
Did Cadma have a solution? I’d so much to live for.
38 The Long Goodbye
It didn't take much time for everyone to know I wasn’t going to be long for this world. It was amazing how they looked at me and spoke to me differently. I was a dead woman walking, and not even doing that very well.
The therapy hadn’t gone too badly, and I was eleven months into the treatment which was extending my life. Cadma hadn’t been able to help other than to confirm the operation wouldn’t add any time to my life so I was excused that additional pain and discomfort. He felt bad that he'd not scanned me himself. He could’ve caught it in the Cluster, and I could’ve come home earlier.
Now, I was celebrating my thirty-sixth birthday with my family. It’d be my last.
I tried not to encounter my reflection in mirrors these days because there was a jaundiced colour to my appearance. I'd lost weight and had begun to look like what I was – a person dying from cancer, weak as a baby sometimes, particularly after the therapy sessions or if I was late taking my painkillers.
I couldn't get my mind off the fact I was going to die. I’d always known I was mortal, but in my early thirties I’d seen my life stretching on into my seventies, eighties, and beyond. I’d expected to be learning, discovering, and exploring the universe and all the wonders of which Cadma spoke, but now I had to pack a lifetime's experiences into less than a year, probably much less than a year the way I felt today.
It seemed so wrong that all my education, knowledge, memories, and thoughts would just end, period. I so wished I was able to believe the essence of my being would survive the final curtain and live on in some heavenly existence.
While waiting for one of my treatments, a Jehovah's Witness told me their heaven let you live in the prime of life forever. I'd join Mario and we'd exist happily ever after in paradise. I would have laughed at her foolishness but didn’t want to hurt her feelings – she, too, didn’t look long for this world. Logic and my scientific education had taught me there was no evidence for anything to come after death, but now the final curtain of black nothingness was creeping over the horizon like a deathly shroud slithering ever closer, I wished it was otherwise.
Wishing does not make it so and, yes, this would be the last birthday I’d celebrate.
I had a few sips of wine while my sister, Heather, and Mum and Dad raised their glasses and cut a silly cake which bore only a single central candle which I blew out while making the obvious wish for a miracle. The trouble was I didn't believe in them. I did, however, celebrate not having to endure any more of those dreadful treatments for at least four weeks. Four weeks seemed so far ahead. Perhaps I'd never have to have a treatment again, but Indra kept pumping me full of experimental drugs to starve the cancer and give me more time. I told her I didn't want to extend my life if it wasn’t worth living, but she and Cadma were insistent I should make every effort for the sake of my parents. I could put up with most of the symptoms, but vomiting was awful, becoming painful and exhausted me too.
The next day, I returned to Goonhilly and into Cadma's home, where he’d invited me to have my own room and bed, so he and I could talk long into the nights. I was afraid of being alone and Cadma never needed to sleep, so I could always call him if I awoke in a panic. Occasionally I wondered if he was studying me to learn how humans approached death but knew that wasn't really the case. I loved his support and conversation. It was the perfect partnership. Well, almost perfect – if only he had arms to hold and comfort me.
The previous month, I’d found it too difficult to keep up with even part-time duties and had resigned my post before the last set of chemo began. Tim Riley was running the show, but regularly came to give me the news of the latest projects. Goonhilly now had only a third of the staff and was mainly following up information provided by our alien friend. Sending messages to visited star systems, plotting his ship's path from Dregednon to Earth and projected path through the spiral arm. It was all very long-term and only Cadma and future human generations would ever see the results.
There was another room in Cadma's pad where my residential nurse stayed to ensure I wanted for nothing. She also cooked for me and helped me as necessary. I was needing her for an increasing number of chores and feared she’d soon be dressing and washing me. The indignity of approaching death mounted daily.
When Cadma wasn't there my tears finally found their release. I cried for me, I cried for Mario, and I cried for all the excitement and adventure which I’d now never experience. People always thought I was a strong personality, but I knew otherwise. I was scared of what was to come.
I spent more and more time talking to Cadma about the proverbial life, universe, and everything. I remembered the day I first saw the image of his organic self, Allen. How long ago that seemed. I’d later told my parents how sad I was that I’d never meet him in person because he’d died millions of years previously. How wrong I’d been, for Cadma was the same Allen and was now my almost constant companion, and Mario was no more. I was glad Mario wouldn’t see me like this. He’d always loved my vitality.
One afternoon a month or so later, when I was so ill, I’d hardly bothered emerging from my bed, Cadma came in and hovered beside me. We talked for hours.
I remember one conversation. He asked me, 'Evelyn, I am curious. So many of your people believe in life after death. Have your views changed at all now you are so ill? Would it be better if you believed there was something to follow?'
Again, fleetingly, I wondered if he saw me as a project. I said, 'You can't just make yourself believe. I’d know it’s a lie, Cad. It’s only natural to wish there was an afterlife and that is, of course, exactly how religion started. Wishful thinking. I’d love to be living in paradise with Mario after I've gone, rather than sinking into the black abyss, but I know it won't happen. I might even be jealous of the deluded people who think it might be true.'
I put my hand on his gold nose cone and savoured his electrostatic sparkle. I continued, 'Your people h
ad no religious beliefs. How did you feel about death?'
'It was simply an ending. We would use our ingenuity and science to extend our existence, but it was inevitable the end would come one day, and we just accepted it. We were fortunate in that we did not experience pain in death, just a deterioration into oblivion. It never worried me.'
'So, all of your knowledge and experience coming to nothing wasn’t important to you?'
'Yes, but it did not matter to me because I would no longer exist. Others would benefit from my work. Thinking, intelligent creatures should not need to invent afterlives into which they imagine they might escape. They should make the most of the life they have while they have it.'
'Yes,' I fell silent for a minute and said, with tears in my eyes, 'It frightens me so much, Cad.'
'You are afraid of the end?'
'Yes, I’m afraid of the pain. I’m afraid of not knowing how it’ll come. I’ve a dread of not being able to breathe. Being unable to breathe used to worry me when I enrolled as an astronaut. However, in space death is almost instantaneous. This death is different. What if I’m gasping for breath and unable to get enough air for hours or days? Yes, Cad, it scares me plenty.'
'I am sorry, dear Evelyn. I am sorry I have no cure for you. I feel I have failed you. None of my technology or inventiveness or intelligence can save the person who I believe I have come to love.'
What? What!
Gosh! It took a few seconds for what he’d said to sink in. What an incredible revelation!
I gazed into his gold reflection of my gaunt face and lifted my hand to touch him again. I couldn't reach so he moved closer. My hand lay against the pristine gold surface. I sensed the reassuring electric tingle he imparted to my palm and knew he was feeling my bodily warmth. The sparkle was stronger this time.
'Did you just tell me you loved me?'
'I did.'
'You told me you didn't comprehend the meaning of love.'
'Our people did not love in the way humans do. We had a huge and enjoyable affection for our children and our mothers but no real emotion for each other except as friends. You have become more special to me than even my mother and as special as my child. I want nothing more than to be in your company forever. You are the only human who has truly connected with me.'
'I'm honoured, Cadma.'
'From how I understand what I have seen, read, and heard about love, this means I am in love with you, Evelyn. The thought of your passing fills me with dread, the like of which I have never experienced before, not in this form, nor in my previous organic existence.'
'Mothers! Mothers? You mentioned your mother. Do you consider yourself a mother?'
'Of course, I am a mother. I gave birth to my child. All Dregednons are mothers.'
'Yes, of course. The concept had somehow passed me by. I always thought of you as male. Were you with your mother when she died?'
'No, my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and even great-great-grandmother were all alive when I left on this journey.'
I couldn't help but laugh. Because he was an electromechanical being, his relationship with those who came before hadn't crossed my mind. I'd only thought about his offspring. Now I didn't know if he should be he or she.
'Are you a "she", Cadma? I've always called you he.'
'It is of no importance. "He" is fine, Evelyn.'
I kept my hand pressed against him, the effort making my forearm ache. 'When I lost Mario, I knew the type of love I had for him was unique, but I’ve loved you too, Cadma, since our first tête-a-tête in the Cluster. I’m glad to be able to spend the rest of my life with you. Thank you for your company and love. It means the world to me.'
Cadma pushed against my hand and there was an increase in the electrical energy in my palm. It made me feel stronger. This was as near as I’d ever get to experiencing love again.
'I will be here for you, Evelyn.'
««o»»
Time passed. Now drugs were all that kept me going, but it also meant I wasn’t always myself. I had delusions and hallucinations, interspersed with lucid moments.
Once I was convinced I was flying through the ISS and Cluster, twisting, turning, diving, and somersaulting in freefall. I was devastated when the dream ended, and I found myself in my bed, hardly capable of turning over.
Other times, I knew exactly what was happening to me. I hated the fact my nurse was having to fulfil my needs, keeping me fed, washing me, and combing my newly growing hair since the treatments had stopped. It was so demeaning.
Another delusion had me lying in my bed, with Cadma hovering on my right and speaking to me with a soft voice. A voice which became softer and more loving as my end approached. I turned away from him to hide building tears, yet he was still there, only now on my left. Was reality abandoning me, my brain tricking me, causing me to think there were two of him, either side of me, caring for me?
My favourite vision was of me with Mario. There he was, as clear as day, with his laughing eyes and curly hair. On this occasion, he stood beside Cadma and was arguing religion with him. So real when he turned his head to smile at me.
The hallucinations grew in frequency, probably drug induced, but at least there’d be no more chemo, no more radiotherapy. I was on the home straight.
The next day, although tired I was much more lucid and clear-thinking. Indra had finally taken me off the cocktail of drugs she'd been using to attack my illness. Only painkillers now.
My dear dad sat beside me, holding my hand as I flitted in and out of wakefulness. Cadma must have called him. Even my amazing dad couldn't rescue me this time. Mum was beside him, my sister to their rear, and Indra beside the door. Briefly I wondered why they were all here, but quickly realised. This had to be the end, my last few minutes.
Where was Cadma? He'd been spending a lot of time away from me on some special project the last few days. I'd missed his almost constant closeness. I had a sudden panic he’d abandon me at the end. Breathily I asked, 'Cad, where's Cad? He promised to be here.'
A voice came from my right. A slight turn of my head and I could see his shimmering iridescent body and golden nose cone, which reflected the pitiful, near-death, woman in the bed.
He said, 'I am with you, Evelyn. I promised to be with you.'
I tried to lift my hand but no longer had the strength. My sister rushed around the bed and around Cadma's bulk to my right shoulder. She quickly lifted my arm and pressed my hand against his golden nose cone. Ah, the prickle of his electric love, the electronic sparkle which told me he was there for me. Told me he loved me. I managed a genuine smile.
Was this to be the end? My abdomen ached but there was little other discomfort. There was no real pain, but my breathing was laboured. How was it all I was would soon end, come to nothing, cease to exist? Was it this fear which caused all those deathbed conversions to religion? There was panic deep inside me, a terror of the world ending for me, forever. I wished Mario was here, holding me tightly, comforting me. I so missed him. The dread of nothingness grew. What would it be like to exist no longer? A stupid thought. How could I just stop being? Such a ridiculous question, of course. These were to be among my last thoughts, and they churned around my mind. I couldn't throw them off. I blinked away tears.
Heather kept my hand hard against Cadma. Did she sense his sparkle too? I smiled at her and she returned it with interest. I turned my head and smiled at Mum and Dad. Dad squeezed my hand.
Oh dear, I felt light-headed, faint. No. Please no. Dizziness descended, and I knew that any moment there would be a flood of tears in this room, but I would no longer be there to see or hear them.
39 Afterlife
I dreamt I was in my sick bed with two Nsyncadmas hovering on either side of me. I must be hallucinating again. Was the rest of my life going to be no more than a drug-induced delusion? It seemed a long time ago. I must have fallen asleep.
Someone was trying to waken me.
&nb
sp; 'Wake up, Evelyn.' A nice, soft male voice.
'Evelyn, are you awake?' It was Cadma's voice, calm, undemanding, attentive as always.
I tried to wake. I could see but couldn't feel my eyes. I was in a bare, smooth-walled room which seemed to extend many metres in each direction. Cadma was there, his gold and anodised metal hull looking magnificent as he hovered vertically instead of in the horizontal mode he normally adopted.
'Can you speak?' he asked.
Was I able to speak? I couldn't sense mouth, tongue, lips, or breath but my voice came out nevertheless, 'Yes, of course I can speak.'
'Good.'
Where was the other Cadma? There had been two in the room seconds ago in my hallucination. I was sure of it. Now it was only him and my head felt really clear. This wasn't a delusion.
The furnishings in the bedroom had vanished in an instant too. The windows were gone. There were bare walls.
What room was I in? I tried to see out and found I could. How? I was seeing through the wall into the landscape beyond.
Had I died? I knew I was in my last days but didn't think I’d go so unexpectedly. I must’ve been wrong. There was an afterlife, after all. A strange afterlife where the room was bare, and my only company was my lovely Cadma who’d been so good to me as those final days approached.
I peered into the distance. This wasn't Cornwall. There was some water at the farthest extent of my vision. A lake perhaps but it wasn’t the Atlantic. The land was arid, not at all like the moorland beyond the walls of Goonhilly. What was I seeing lining the road? These were the buildings we’d seen in the city image of Dregednon. Strangely shaped structures, larger at the top than at the bottom. Some were in a row, a straight row leading down to the lake. It seemed too small to be an ocean or even a sea.
Nearby there was an egg-like object. It was moving. Moreover, it was heading our way. My vision followed it as it arrived beneath us. I saw it through the floor, but the floor seemed to open, and the egg elevated into the room beside Cadma. Inside it was one of Cadma's people. Those huge, friendly, watery brown eyes examined me for a good few seconds and swivelled back to Cadma. She spoke in Cadma's language, yet I understood, not perfectly, but well enough.
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