As I watched him, I wondered if Davey was aware of his life-threatening illness.
Mrs. Emmett returned bearing a tray. For a woman in her seventies, she was remarkably upright and spry—and mentally sharp, as I found out.
She sat down and poured two coffees, then gave me a penetrating sidewise glance. “It must be very hard for people wholly convinced of the benefits the Kéthani have bestowed,” she said, “to comprehend the stance taken by the few dissenters amongst us.” She spoke eloquently, in a soft voice free of accent or dialect.
I found myself smiling. “Well, we do live in an increasingly secular age,” I began.
“The two sides cannot be reconciled,” she went on. “We with faith are wholly convinced of the truth of our views, while those that hold with the Kéthani pity us for our ignorance, for our choice of passing up the opportunity of certain immortality.” She paused and smiled. “Those with scientific certainty fail to understand the certainty of those with true faith.”
I smiled. “You’re telling me, politely, to mind my own business.”
She laughed, the sound like a cut glass chime. “Of course not, Khalid. I’m merely stating my position. I’d be genuinely interested in hearing your argument.”
I took a sip of the excellent coffee. “Well, it’s an argument based not so much on faith or theory,” I said, “as on my own experience.”
She inclined her head. “I understand that you now work on the implant ward at Bradley.”
“I do, but that isn’t the experience I was referring to. You see…” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “Over ten years ago, Mrs. Emmett, I died.” I elected to leave out the messy personal details of my death. “I was resurrected on the home planet of the Kéthani and… instructed, I suppose is the best way to put it. I’ve only a vague recollection of what happened in the Kéthani domes, just nebulous memories, images. What I do retain is the sensation of rebirth, the wonder of renewed life, and the sense of rightness that accompanied my resurrection. I knew so much more. I became—and this is ironic, as it’s the result of an alien process—more humane. I was convinced of the rightness of what I had undergone and the genuine sense of destiny I was to undergo. I knew I had to return to Earth and spread the word of the implantation process—”
Mrs. Emmett interrupted, “If you don’t mind my saying, Khalid, what you have said so far sounds not so much a matter of reason, but of faith.”
I smiled. “I suppose it does.” I paused, marshalling my thoughts. “But the Kéthani believe that the process of resurrection after death is the only true hope of continued existence.” I wondered, then, how much my words had been influenced by my own prejudices.
“Or that,” she said, again with that sweet smile, “is what they told you.”
“Not so much told,” I said, “as showed. I find it hard to explain, but at the end of the process, I knew they were right.”
“Just as, at the culmination of my years of instruction with my Rinpoche,” Mrs. Emmett said, “I knew that the way of Buddha was, for me, the true and right path.” Her bright blue eyes twinkled at me. “Faith, Khalid.”
I had to smile. “Touché,” I said.
“But…” she said.
I looked up at her.
“But?” I echoed, encouraged.
“But, Khalid, I presume you didn’t come here to try to save my life.” She was ahead of me, and knew it, and I couldn’t help but admire her intelligence.
I looked across at Davey, who was thoroughly absorbed in his stamp collection. “Richard told me that Davey is ill,” I began, uncomfortable about discussing the man in his presence.
“And you think I should have Davey implanted for his own good?”
I looked her in the eye. “Irrespective of your own beliefs,” I said, “I think you should give Davey the chance to decide for himself whether he would like the opportunity of virtual immortality.”
She looked at me sharply. “The opportunity?” she said. “But if I agree now to have him implanted, how would that be giving Davey the chance to decide for himself?”
I smiled. I could see the way ahead, the chance to save Davey from the imposition of his mother’s trenchantly held beliefs. Was that arrogant of me, small-minded?
I went on, “You see, if Davey is implanted, then when he dies and is taken to Kéthan he will be resurrected not as he is now, but with certain… how should I put it?… changes. He will still be Davey, still intrinsically himself, but his intelligence and understanding will be boosted. He’ll be the Davey who you would have had if not for…”
I stopped, for I saw a flicker of pain in her expression.
She said, “That might be a difficult fact to face, Khalid. To have Davey as I might have had him for all these years.”
“But,” I persisted, “wouldn’t it be better for him to be cured, to live a full and extended life?”
“That is to assume that what he experiences now is not full and rewarding, Khalid. All experience is relative and valid, as Buddha teaches us.”
“Then perhaps it would be a valid experience to allow Davey the opportunity of resurrection,” I countered.
She looked at me, assessing. “But, Khalid, forgive me—you haven’t answered my question. You said that I should give Davey the opportunity to make his own choice. But if I did agree to have him implanted, then I would be making the choice for him.”
I moved forward, sat on the edge of the chair in my desire to win the argument. “But you see, when Davey returns from Kéthan, resurrected, he would still be implanted. Returnees aren’t suddenly rendered immortal. They still have the implant which will keep them alive should they ‘die’ again, before they are taken to Kéthan for a second, or third or fourth, resurrection.”
“And…” Mrs. Emmett began, a dawning light in her eyes.
I nodded. “That’s right, when Davey returns from Kéthan, he will be implanted—and if he so wishes he can have the implant removed. If he shares your faith, then he can make a choice based on a full understanding of all the factors involved.”
I stopped there and watched Mrs. Emmett closely to see how she had taken my argument.
She was staring at her empty coffee cup, frowning slightly. At last she looked up and nodded. “You present a very interesting scenario, Khalid,” She said at last. “It is certainly something I need to think about.”
I nodded and finished my coffee. I should have realised that nothing I could have said would have made her change her mind there and then.
I wondered if, when I left, she would rationalise the discussion and allow her faith to maintain the status quo.
As she showed me to the door a little later, she touched my arm and said, “Buddha taught that there is no objective truth, Khalid. Each of us carries within us a subjective truth, if only we can find it.”
I smiled.
She went on, “I’ve tried so hard, Khalid, but the truth is that I’m not a very good Buddhist.”
“What makes you say—?” I began.
She smiled, sadly. “Attachment is wrong, Khalid. I am being selfish in my love for Davey. I should be able to look past my attachment and see what is best for Davey.”
I made the long trek back to the car and drove home, happy with the morning’s work.
I had quite forgotten about Mrs. Emmett and Davey when, three days later, my secretary received a call. She put her head around the door. “There’s a Mrs. Emmett on the line,” she said. “She won’t be put off. Shall I tell her you’re busy?”
“Emmett? No, put her through.”
I picked up the phone. “Mrs. Emmett?” I fully expected her to tell me that she had had second thoughts, and that our conversation had done nothing to change her mind. “How can I help?”