The Immortality Virus (2 page)

“Rumor has it that you’re good at finding people,” Matt said.

Grace didn’t hesitate. “The best. I’ve had a fifty percent success rate across my career.”

“Fifty percent?” Matt echoed, his voice hollow. “That doesn’t sound very certain.”

Grace shrugged. “Who said life was certain? But most in the business don’t find more than one in ten.” Grace hesitated, but decided to go for broke. “I don’t always get work looking for people with ID chips, either. My clients aren’t people who deal with The Establishment, but I guess you know that.”

“Of course.”

“So then I must assume that the person you’re looking for is either someone without an ID chip or someone The Establishment wouldn’t want you to find.” Grace paused and tried not to think about the implications of that. “Probably both.”

A small smile played at the corner of Matt’s mouth, but he did not answer in words. He walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out an old-fashioned digital diary, the kind people used to buy when they had more money and resources than they knew what to do with. Grace had only seen them in movies. It looked a little like a notebook from the outside, but opening the cover revealed a microphone and speakers. “I ran across this diary a few weeks ago, mixed in with some old records the company was throwing out. It’s fascinating.”

“Oh?” Grace raised an eyebrow.

Matt stood in front of the desk, blocking her view of the diary. “How do you suppose we got like this?”

“Like what, exactly?” Grace asked, though she suspected she knew.

“Immortal.”

“We’re not precisely immortal. Your father died.”

“You like things precise, then,” Matt said with a satisfied nod. “I like that. How do you suppose we stopped aging, then?”

Rather than answer, she looked out the window at the sea of people in the park. She didn’t like these leading questions, especially since Matt wouldn’t be asking them unless he had some idea that she thought the human race should go back to aging the way they once had. Sure, she would have died a long time ago in that world, but really…She tore her eyes away from the window and looked at Matt.

If the wrong people found out how she felt–and Matt, a member of The Establishment, was definitely one of those wrong people–they would kill her. Not that there was anything she could do to change the state of the world, but people who held a certain lofty position had no problems protecting that position from any perceived threat.

She had to choose her words carefully. “You spout sacrilege. In four hundred years, if people had wanted to learn the answer to that question, don’t you think we would have? Your company would have been at the head of such an endeavor.”

“You are correct, of course.” Matt’s smile faltered slightly. “I suppose I should be more direct with someone like you. I’m used to dealing with scientists, you see. Their minds are often too full of other passions to leave much room for common sense. I happen to know that you’re secretly pro-death.”

“I am not.” It was the truth. The Establishment could give whatever evil words they wanted to the movement, but she wasn’t in favor of death so much as natural life.

“It’s quite all right,” Matt said. “This room is entirely secure. Besides, I, too, am pro-death.”

Grace froze. Either he was lying and trying to trap her or he had an ace in the hole, some way of being sure beyond any doubt that she was, in fact, in favor of natural life. But why would he bother trying to trap her? It wasn’t like she was an active member of the deservedly named pro-death movement. That group spent its time killing at random, bombing transit systems and large groups of people in order to “deliver its message.”

“You’re pro-death?” Grace asked, not sure she believed it.

“Natural life would be more accurate, of course,” Matt said. “I’m hardly in favor of terrorism. Perhaps it would help if I invited someone else to our little meeting. I can see that you’re uncomfortable, and I can’t blame you one bit.” He pushed a button on his desk and said, “Lucas, have Sam come in.”

Grace knew a Sam, or had a long time ago. He had been her lover for almost fifty years, during her formal schooling and after as she struggled to beat out throngs of people all vying for the same jobs. He had taught chemistry in school, a subject that had interested Grace, though not nearly enough to study it fully. In the end, she had gotten a degree in forensic science and criminology, which had led to a brief and infamous stay on the Kansas City police force.

He also knew that she was in favor of natural life. She had confided it to him during a night of true intimacy–the kind that doesn’t necessarily lead to sex.

Grace held her breath as he walked in. His face could have been chiseled from her memories. Even his sandy blonde hair was styled in the same manner. His soft green eyes gleamed with welcome, reflecting the perfect smile on his full, pouting lips. How well she remembered that smile. It had drawn her to him all those years ago. Others had questioned her taste, pointing out his unruly hair and his over-large feet, but she only had eyes for his smile.

“Nice to see you again, Grace,” Sam said as he entered the room. He nodded at Matt and took a seat next to Grace in front of the desk.

“Sam was kind enough to come work for me a few weeks ago,” Matt said. “When I told him what I needed, he said he knew just the person, and so here we are.”

“Here I am,” Grace echoed. “But of course, you had me checked out first.”

“Of course.”

“Then why–?”

Matt raised a hand to stop her question. He opened the diary and spoke into it. “Play entry one.”

A deep, tired male voice began speaking as if he were dictating a letter.

My Dearest Margaret, it’s January 3, 2050,

I won’t be able to see you as much as I used to. I begin my new job at Medicorp today. Now don’t judge me. I know I said I wouldn’t work for that evil corporation that lives to make a profit off of people’s pain but I’m afraid even I have my price. You. You see, I’m working on a cure for Alzheimer’s. Well, not really. They want me to work on a preventative, but that doesn’t do you any good now, does it? I’m going to fix this, Margaret. I swear to you that somehow I’ll make you right.

Ethan and Kevin promised they’d come by to see you more often since I won’t be home as much. Kevin’s such a sweet boy. I’m not sure what Ethan’s ulterior motive is, but at least he’ll be there for you. Who knows? Maybe he’s finally learned that there are things more important than money. I won’t hold my breath, but maybe.

I have to head off to my first day on the job now. I’ll carry you with me in my heart.

I love you,

Jordan

She could tell from his voice that Jordan, whoever he was, was old when he had recorded the message. She could not imagine what this recording had to do with her, but there was something about it that got to her–the raw pain in Jordan’s voice. The man seemed near tears over the fate of his wife. Grace did not look at Sam as she wondered at the capacity of a man to love a woman so much.

“What am I listening for, exactly?” Grace asked. “He was an employee here, I see. I’ve never heard of the illness he was working on.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to have heard of it,” Matt said. “It was one of many old age diseases that virtually disappeared in the latter half of the twenty-first century.”

“All right,” Grace began, still not sure what this was about, “So he was working on a cure for his wife four centuries ago. What’s that got to do with now?”

“Everything,” Matt said. “Haven’t you been paying attention? He found his cure. Alzheimer’s was virtually eliminated at the end of the twenty-first century.”

“Yeah, because the human race stopped…” Grace’s eyes widened. “You don’t think he’s the guy who caused all this, do you?”

“I think you’ll agree, once you’ve listened to the rest of this diary.” Matt tapped one thick finger on the top of the diary.

For once, Grace couldn’t think of anything to say. She just stared at the diary, a small rectangle that purportedly held the key to four centuries of human history. And Matt was offering to let her listen to the rest of it, to hear it for herself.
If
. If what? That was the key.

Grace risked a glance at Sam. He was staring at her, but she couldn’t read anything in his face. She turned back to Matt. “What do you want, exactly?”

“Find Jordan.”

“Find Jordan?” The words echoed dully around the room. It was impossible and Matt had to know that. Jordan probably wasn’t alive. Old timers were relatively rare and usually somewhat wealthy. Old age wasn’t the only thing that could kill someone, and four hundred years was a lot of time for everything else to catch up with a person. Besides, Jordan had already been an antique, judging from the sound of his voice.

Matt cleared his throat. “This won’t be an easy job. I have very few leads. Records indicate that Jordan left the company’s employ shortly after the last entry he made four hundred years ago. His last known address is four hundred years old.”

“If this is all you’ve got then I can just about guarantee he isn’t alive,” Grace said. “How old was he when he made that entry?”

“Seventy-six.”

“So how did he survive, do you think? Your father was one of a very few antiques who managed it for so long.”

Matt’s face fell into a deep frown, and Grace corrected herself for her rudeness. “I’m sorry. I mean very few people who were older than sixty or so managed to survive. The aging they’d already gone through was enough to get most of them within a century.”

“We do have a more recent record,” Matt said. “I know he was alive two months ago.”

Matt sub-vocalized something, and an instant later, a holoset in the corner of the room began showing them images from a surveillance camera in the lobby just outside the office. The camera clearly showed a very old man, escorted by an ageless security guard, striding with purpose across the lobby towards the office door. The secretary–not Lucas–didn’t even blink an eye so Jordan must have been welcomed. He wasn’t distinctive in any way except, of course, that he was old. He did seem to have a remarkable amount of energy for a man who had been in his late seventies when The Change began.

“So what did he do, just disappear for four hundred years and suddenly show up two months ago?” Grace asked. “What happened four hundred years ago to make him disappear?”

Matt cleared his throat. “He was on the run from the law.”

“Oh?” Grace raised an eyebrow.

“He allegedly killed a few coworkers. He ran before they could even question him about it and was never heard from again.”

Grace stared at the diary, a part of her more eager than ever to find out what was on the rest of it. “But he just walked back in here two months ago as if that never happened. What was he doing here? Why would your father see him? Did your father know where he was?”

Matt shrugged. “I wish I could help you.”

“Did he do it?” Grace asked. “Kill his coworkers, I mean?”

Again, Matt shrugged. “Who can know for sure? But if you get a chance to listen to the rest of that diary, you may form an opinion for yourself.”

“This just doesn’t add up,” Grace said, mostly to herself. She glanced down at the diary. “How many entries are there?”

“Just a couple of month’s worth,” Matt replied. “I know there’s a lot of mystery here, but I also know that there’s a good chance Jordan is still alive. He was two months ago.”

“Yes, and he apparently had dealings with your father,” Grace said, more to herself than to him. “Your father doesn’t have any other records? Maybe an address or vidphone channel?”

“If it were that easy, would I have called you?” Matt asked. “The only lead I really have is that diary. In it, he mentions a favorite grandson, Alexander Lacklin, who is still alive. You may want to try to track him down.”

With a few words, Grace recorded the name in her portable and then used the break in conversation to try to sort through things in her mind.

The potential mysteries to uncover here had her curiosity on overdrive, but she knew this would be risky. If anyone caught wind of what she was after... She shuddered. Death would only come after the type of interrogation she didn’t want to think about.

It was crazy. She couldn’t do it. She opened her mouth to say so, but the wrong words escaped. “
If
I take the job, what’s on the rest of the diary?”

Matt took a sip of water. “You’ll have to listen to it to find out.”

And I’ll have to take the job to listen to it
, she finished for him. She glanced over at Sam again, who had remained the silent observer throughout. He flashed her another one of those winning smiles, the kind that made small dimples appear on his cheeks.

Grace shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to get on The Establishment’s radar again.” She glanced at Matt. “I’m sure you know that.”

“I know that The Establishment has better things to do than watch what you’re doing.”

Grace felt her cheeks burn a little.

“They have no idea that you’re here,” Matt said. “They have no idea who Jordan is or why he’s important. So there’s no reason for them to get involved, is there?”