james L. Halperin The First Immortal

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sparkle. The disease had not yet progressed to where pain could no
longer be managed by medi-cation, or where the mind was of
diminished use. Tonight she displayed a calm optimism bordering on
exuberance. All was going according to plan.
Now, Katie, Dr. Kevorkian said, do you wish to continue your life?
No, not now.
Not at all?
Not at all. I don t want this disease eating into my brain. I m still lucid
and fairly strong now. Within six months, I won t be.
Rebecca read a carefully worded statement: She wishes to be frozen, just like
her grandfather, in hope of being revived de-cades or even centuries from now,
when and if medical science can restore her health. Her father, brother, and I
support her decision.
My grandfather, George Crane, Sr., holding Katie s left hand, and
twenty-seven-year-old George Jr., my father, stand-ing at her right side, each
signaled their agreement. Yes, that s right, George Sr. said, smiling down
at his daughter.
Thank you, Daddy, she said, then looked toward Gary and Maxine,
and thanks so much to everyone here. I love you all.
Kevorkian scowled faintly, and addressed Katie again in his trademark
humorless tone: morbid yet compassionate gentle-ness. The seventy-two-year-old
obitiatrist had asked the same questions dozens of times before. You
understand what you re asking me to do, right?
Yes.
You want me to help you end your life?
Absolutely, yes.
You realize that I can set up the equipment, but you will have to trigger the
device yourself.
Yes, I know that.
You know you can stop anytime you wish.
I won t stop.
But you can stop; you don t have to go through with it.
I know.
Katie, how did you feel upon learning you had a terminal disease?
Depressed.
I see. And at the time you first decided to contact me, were you still
depressed?
She considered this for several seconds before answering, No. Not anymore.
Then what prompted your decision?
Now Katie did not hesitate. Logic, she said.
Kevorkian nodded his head several times, then asked the question he d recently
begun asking all of his younger patients: Have you considered whether you d
be willing to donate any of your organs to help save the lives or eyesight of
others?
Even though she d made her decision days ago, Katie pon-dered the question
carefully. If science can bring me back to life, growing new organs should be
a simple problem for them. Since I have cancer, I doubt anyone would want my
internal or-gans other than for research. But the corneas should be fine.
Okay, Doctor, take what you want. Just make sure they freeze my brain first.
Gary knew that Rebecca and her family were secretly horri-fied, but also
determined to honor Katie s judgment; they d kept their thoughts to themselves
in deference to her wishes. But he grinned at Katie, his eyes locking onto
hers. To him, her decision seemed utterly sensible. Anytime a person under
sixty years of age died, he thought, medics should harvest any trans-plantable
organs and just worry about preserving the brain.
She smiled back.
Katie, Kevorkian asked, what does it mean when you end your life; when you
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stop living?
It means I m dead unless cryonics works and science can someday repair my
body. I know my chances of ever being alive again aren t so good. But even if
I weren t being frozen, I d still want to die now. Now, while I can think for
myself, and laugh, and easily bear the pain, and return the love of those who
love me. I want to die now, tonight.
Some say you re doing the wrong thing, Katie. What would you tell them?
I d tell them that it s my life, my body, my brain, my iden-tity, my pain,
and my hope. I know what I
want, Dr. Kevorkian. I want to die; to be frozen with my Grampy.
Beside the bed, like a crazy basement-dwelling aunt whom no-body discussed,
lurked a canister with hose and face mask. Everyone in the room knew it was
there, and they all tried not to look at it, as if such conduct might remind
them of why they were there or, worse, might make Katie feel rushed. She d
al-ready rehearsed her suicide twice, hours ago, and now it seemed
as if she was procrastinating;
perhaps trying to keep the party going just a little while longer than
etiquette might dictate.
Kevorkian reassured her, Take as much time as you need, Katie. No one s in
any hurry tonight.
What time is it? she asked. In truth, she felt weary and yearned to end it
right then, but refused to reveal these emo-tions. Her work was not yet
finished.
Gary looked at his watch and said seven-thirty at exactly the moment Jan
walked through the door.
Right on time, Katie thought. Good! She looked at her hand-some uncle, and his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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