Life Sentence

by Andrew Neiderman

  He realized that even though he was doing a good job convincing himself, he wasn’t sure he would be as successful with Mr Dover. By the time he was buzzed by security and informed of Dover’s arrival, beads of sweat had soaked his forehead and hair. He rose quickly, went to his bathroom to straighten up and quickly dab cold water on his face. It wouldn’t be good to appear nervous.

  ‘I’ve got to convince him we’ll be OK,’ he told his image in the mirror. ‘I just need more time. I’ll reassure him I’m close.’

  He thought he heard his image say, You have already assured him that it was a nearly perfected process. You’re not dealing with just any gullible entrepreneur.

  He sucked in his breath and steeled himself nevertheless, forming his best smile like someone who had put on a mask. For a moment he just gazed out of his bathroom window like one of his inmate specimens gazing out at freedom. Outside, a roof of gray bruised clouds hovered in globs that looked like small hernias. It was not a good omen, not that he believed in omens much. He simply hated overcast skies with a passion and like someone having a tantrum, he would shut his blinds and curtains and refuse to look outside until there was some blue somewhere.

  The sound of voices and his office door opening shattered his musings. His thoughts rained down like fragments of some precious crystal and he hurried out of the bathroom. Mr Dover wasn’t alone. The man with him was quite recognizable. He was Senator Hastings who had just recently become chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee.

  Tall and lean with light blond hair that turned a pale yellow shade wherever there were gray strands invading, Dover had a firmness in his posture that suggested a spine literally made of iron. He had a military air bathed in self-confidence and neither moved nor spoke with the slightest hint of hesitation. And yet, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Jimmy Stewart and could at times look disarmingly soft and sweet, even as innocent as a Mr Smith who came to Washington.

  Senator Hastings, however, had nothing contradictory either in his demeanor or voice. He was gruff, arrogant and impatient. Stout with the promise of soon-to-be thicker and puffier jowls in his round face, he had the habit of lifting the left corner of his thick-lipped mouth higher than his right when he spoke, especially when he spoke condescendingly or angrily. From what Simon had seen of him on television, the man rarely shouted. He spoke with a low growl when he was upset and leaned over his part of the senate chamber dais with his palms down as if he were about to pounce.

  Unlike men who tried to compensate for lost hair, Senator Hastings kept his remaining hair short. From a distance, the black stubble looked like it was painted over his temples and down the back of his head with a shiny naked top that resembled a small pale white cap.

  ‘Mr Dover,’ Simon said nodding.

  ‘Of course, you know Senator Hastings, Dr Oakland,’ Dover said in response.

  ‘Yes. Welcome,’ Simon said and gingerly made his way to his desk, half-wondering if it was presumptuous of him to take that seat and seem more important. However, he was more important, he told himself and did it anyway. ‘It’s an honor to meet you, Senator Hastings,’ he added after he sat. ‘Please, have a seat, gentlemen. Should I order something to drink, coffee? Some Danish?’

  ‘This isn’t a social visit,’ Dover said. He indicated the sofa to Hastings and Hastings sat, but Dover remained standing as if he wanted to have the symbolic posture of lording it over Simon.

  ‘Oh, yes … I just thought …’

  ‘You know that it was always our intention to involve the judicial branch of our federal government in this program,’ Dover said, nodding at Hastings and ignoring Simon. ‘Inevitably, there would be the questions hovering about civil liberties, due process, cruel and unusual punishment and the like. We don’t, as you scientists do, work in a vacuum, Dr Oakland.’

  ‘Oh, I understand,’ Simon said. Despite the height of his chair, he felt like he was sinking. ‘Sure. Of course. That’s your area entirely, Mr Dover. I wouldn’t dream of commenting or suggesting or—’

  ‘Senator Hastings was recently informed of our research and our program,’ Dover interrupted.

  ‘Vaguely,’ Senator Hastings said. Simon thought he growled it.

  ‘Yes, well we’re here to change that. I explained we had something of a glitch going on and Senator Hastings thought he should personally be on top of everything now. A great many people who came to this before he became chairman of the judicial committee have made commitments to this project and want those commitments realized and protected.’

  Simon nodded, looked at Hastings who was staring at him so hard, it gave him a chill, and then Simon leaned forward to say, ‘Absolutely. I’ll do whatever I can. I’m sure I can explain everything to everyone’s satisfaction.’

  ‘Before you begin,’ Senator Hastings said, ‘I want you to know I once told someone who was bullshitting the judiciary committee with a long, complicated explanation of a genuine fuck up that one of my favorite authors, Kurt Vonnegut, wrote in a novel, if you can’t explain what you’re doing so a nine-year-old would understand it, you’re probably a charlatan. Let’s see if you’re a charlatan, Dr Oakland.’

  He sat back, folding his hands on his stomach.

  Simon looked at Mr Dover. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘What’s to understand? Senator Hastings would like you to explain what the hell you’re doing and what you’ve done and what’s happened, Dr Oakland, and in such a way that a non-scientist can understand. I hope I don’t have to translate everything for you.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. Sure. Of course.’

  Dover sat back and then assumed his own senatorial demeanor.

  ‘I have always been intrigued with the aging process living things experience. I have done some interesting and innovative work in the field. In fact, I don’t think I’m being immodest by saying I’m recognized as an expert in the subject.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Hasting said out of the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Yes, well … to explain … there is a strange and rare human disease called Progeria, and although it does not actually reproduce the pattern of aging, an accelerated aging process occurs. Perhaps you have seen victims of the disease or pictures of them, children who look like they’re ninety-year-olds when they are no more than six or seven? Their life span is usually no longer than fifteen years.’

  ‘I never heard of it,’ Senator Hastings said sharply.

  ‘Well, as I said, it’s rare, but very dramatic.’

  ‘What’s that have to do with any of this?’

  ‘Well, let’s think of aging as the loss of cells, nerve cells, brain cells, cells dying. The body stops dividing and reproducing them. Human beings normally have fifty divisions and then die, chickens about twenty-four, a mouse fourteen to twenty-eight. In the long-lived Galapagos tortoise, cells will undergo ninety to 125 doublings. This victim of Progeria I described will have about ten. So, helping the body improve on the doublings could extend life and certainly youth.’

  He paused and looked at Mr Dover. ‘Is that simple enough? I could go deeper into the genetics, if you like.’

  ‘Just go on Dr Oakland. We have lots to do here.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Well, theorizing about how to extend the aging process to keep us younger led to the obvious reversal: accelerating aging such as we see with Progeria. In short, simply reducing the ability of the body to double its cells. I had done so successfully with a number of specimens. I was having a philosophical discussion about it with associates of Mr Dover when the proposition was presented.’

  ‘Yes, the proposition,’ Hasting said. ‘I’d like us all to be on the same page. Let’s get into that. Exactly what is the proposition as you see it, Dr Oakland?’

  ‘Well, it was put more into a question first. When you think of it on the surface, who would want to accelerate aging? How could that in any way benefit anyone? I forget exactly who it was … maybe you recall, Mr Dover, but someone than made the suggestion that the prison syste
m would benefit, the overburdened prison system, I might add.

  ‘Philosophically or morally, the issue was how do you relieve the prison system, lessen the population, and still be sure those released have paid their debt to society? Too many prisoners are being paroled too soon because there is simply no room, the costs are too high—’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me about that,’ Hastings interrupted. ‘I have a lot to say about the budget for federal penitentiaries.’

  ‘Right. Then came the “what if” question … I love “what if” questions,’ Simon said smiling. ‘They have the effect of stimulating my creative juices.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Mr Dover said. Simon thought he was giving him a compliment until he added, ‘Get to the fucking point.’

  ‘Sorry. I innocently asked, what if prisoners who were sentenced to ten, fifteen, twenty years could be aged ten, fifteen, twenty years practically overnight? They’re going to be that age anyway by the time they get released, unless they had some parole of course. The ones who most likely won’t be paroled are really the ones we’re concentrating on at the moment. They are the most apt to volunteer. For obvious reasons,’ he added.

  Both men stared at him silently. He squirmed a bit and smiled. ‘At the time I didn’t know it, but I had intrigued some people who eventually reached Mr Dover. He and I met. I reviewed my progress with the research and how I had successfully accelerated aging with rats and a pig.’

  ‘A pig?’ Hastings asked.

  ‘Oh yes. A pig is important because it resembles us humans … its heart is about the same size and pig valves are being used in human transplants as we speak. Bottom line was, I was successful in acceleration of aging and could even duplicate the actual time passed … how much the specimen would or should age in five years, ten years, twenty years.

  ‘Think of how we could redefine human punishment,’ Simon said visibly excited with his own explanation. ‘It can’t be cruel and unusual if it will happen anyway, right? The burden, however, is lifted from society financially, supporting the prison system,’ he said and turned to a pamphlet on his desk. He flipped the pages quickly. ‘Currently, it’s estimated we’re spending close to forty-five billion a year to maintain the nation’s state correctional facilities and I don’t have to tell you, Senator, that those costs are rising daily.’

  ‘No, you don’t have to tell me,’ Hastings said dryly. ‘I’ve already made that point.’

  ‘Yes. Well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that anyone responsible for such an innovation as I’m proposing and developing would be lauded worldwide, whether he be the scientist, the entrepreneur who eventually patents the process and owns it –’ Simon said nodding at Dover – ‘or the politician who had the vision to encourage the research.’

  Simon sat back. He had made this case many times before to people Mr Dover had brought to him, and he could see from Dover’s expression that he was doing well with it again.

  ‘Go on,’ Hastings said glancing at Dover and then turning back to Simon, who was tempted to sarcastically ask, How am I doing?

  ‘Mr Dover was kind enough to get us the initial necessary financing for this clinic, my research. He found some human specimens for me.’

  ‘Specimens?’ Hasting asked grimacing. ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘Homeless, mentally ill,’ Dover explained.

  ‘Oh. They were still alive then, living specimens as you call them,’ Hastings asked.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry. I just think in scientific terms,’ Simon said.

  ‘Um,’ Hasting muttered, but didn’t look happy about it.

  ‘It was slow going at first, especially because of the heart failures, but eventually I began to have remarkable success, charting my progress against substantial medical touchstones for human aging, without losing the specimen – the patient – and finally I believed we were ready to try our innovation on an actual convict.’

  ‘And?’ Hastings demanded.

  ‘He was sentenced to forty years and was only thirty-eight at the time. Not a promising projection.’

  ‘What did this convict do? His crime?’

  ‘He was an enforcer for a drug lord,’ Mr Dover said.

  ‘And he agreed to this experiment?’

  ‘A number of convicts submit themselves to experimental procedures in return for reduced prison sentences, as you know,’ Simon said. ‘This was no different except we were arranging for him to go into the federal identity protection program. He was out there with a new identity and approximately twenty years older, which was our compromise in negotiations. We had a crack team negotiating with them as well as Mr Dover and myself. However, I understand this arrangement was reversed today,’ he added and looked at Dover.

  ‘And you know why, too?’

  ‘Why wasn’t I called to do the evaluation?’ he fired back, surprised at his own courage and aggressiveness.

  ‘I wanted someone who had a little less of a stake in the matter,’ Dover replied without hesitation.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about now, but how the hell did you get this all past Senator Jackson, Henry?’ Senator Hastings asked Dover.

  ‘We slipped under the radar when we went to the CIA,’ Dover said.

  ‘CIA?’

  ‘The CIA was thinking of Dr Oakland’s work in other terms … a terrific means of, quote, humane torture to get information. To see yourself age five years, ten, might stimulate a quicker submission, especially if there was some vague promise of reversal.’

  Hastings spun on Simon. ‘Is there?’

  Simon looked at Dover and sank again in his seat.

  ‘That’s partly why we’re here,’ Dover muttered.

  ‘Not intentionally,’ Simon said. ‘But to use Mr Dover’s term, there is apparently a glitch with some specimens, I mean volunteers.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘Their immune systems are stronger than I had anticipated. So much is genetic, you see,’ he added quickly. ‘So …’

  ‘And? What does that mean exactly … to a nine-year-old?’

  ‘Well, They’re battling back, returning to their actual chronological age.’

  ‘You mean you made a deal with a convict, aged the bastard, let him out, and now he’s getting younger?’

  ‘We didn’t exactly expect it because some of the others, actually all but one of the others, had aged too quickly, and beyond my expectations,’ Simon said. ‘Ten years became twenty, thirty. The last three died of old age in fact, so we thought we just had to work on tweaking the process and …’

  ‘But these others, the ones who aged too much?’

  ‘Well, once we saw what was happening, we aborted the process with them.’

  ‘And aborted them,’ Dover added dryly. ‘Except for one who got passed us or Dr Oakland.’

  ‘Well, he had aged too quickly and was rapidly approaching expiration as were the others, so I assumed …’

  ‘So he went into a reversal, too, got younger?’

  ‘It would seem so,’ Simon said reluctantly.

  ‘How young will he get?’

  ‘Oh, not any younger than he was, if that.’

  Hastings nodded and sat back, shaking his head. ‘Well, there goes your “punishment still fits the crime” theory,’ he said. He looked at Dover. ‘You better be sure to abort him as well. Get him back from the identity protection agency.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s looking like a little bit more than just that,’ Mr Dover said. Simon looked up sharply. ‘As Dr Oakland said, this one man was on his deathbed when the reversal started. He never entered the program on the outside.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I mean he’s out there,’ Dover said.

  ‘Out there?’ He glanced at the window as if they could all look out and see Bradley Morris looking up at them defiantly. ‘Well, how did he get out there?’

  ‘He escaped from the clinic,’ Simon said. ‘No one anticipated it because he was aged into his e
ighties and dying. I was simply keeping him alive to learn more and then …’

  ‘And then he apparently got up and walked out,’ Dover said.

  ‘Amazing,’ Hastings muttered nodding.

  ‘He’s understandably angry about what was done to him,’ Dover added.

  ‘I imagine so. And?’ Hastings nearly shouted, his face getting red.

  ‘He’s coming after those who, shall we say, convinced him to take the deal.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Hastings asked.

  ‘He’s killed Thomas Martin.’

  ‘Father Martin?’ Simon asked first. He hadn’t known. Dover nodded.

  ‘Why did he kill a priest?’ Senator Hastings asked. ‘How was he involved in this?’

  ‘We all thought when the time came, it would be wise to have the religious element on our side. We began with Father Martin in NYC who got permission from the Vatican to cooperate with the program. He was already visiting convicts on a regular basis in a program he had initiated and was managing. We thought it made sense to bring him into it,’ Dover explained.

  ‘Killed a priest,’ Hastings muttered. He looked up sharply. ‘You have a lot of holes to plug up here, Henry. We can’t let this get out.’

  ‘I’m on it.’

  ‘I’m sure the CIA is there to help bring this guy back.’

  ‘Well …’

  Hastings squinted at Dover. ‘You haven’t told them any of the bad news, have you?’ He asked smiling slyly.

  ‘Not yet. If we can plug this up ourselves … it’s good to have them working with us, on our side, especially when it comes to financing, arrangements.’

  ‘Um. What about this other convict, the one in the identity program?’

  ‘He was doing well, but…’ Simon began. He looked at Dover.

  ‘I was nervous about him so I had him brought in and evaluated. He’s creeping back,’ Dover said.

  ‘Creeping back? You mean, getting younger, too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘He’s upstairs in the process of being terminated. To be sure there were no glitches. I thought I would leave him to trickle away so Simon here could look him over and see where the fuck up is. You will see that very quickly, will you not, Dr Oakland?’ Dover asked, his voice dripping with threat.