“It’s always been a tradeoff between senescence – cell aging – and instability. Not to get too technical on you… when we learned how to manipulate telomeres and stem cells and really use engineered RNA and transcription factors with incredible precision and molebiologists started devising catalysts that could speed the processes up without stressing… well, to put it simply, we beat senescence. But when we destroyed the Hayflick Limit, we set ourselves up for an increase in instability.
“So, when you come in quarterly for your resets, we do our mapping and scans each time, because it’s not senescence we’re checking for, it’s tumorigeneses. We’ve always been able to destroy a few abnormally replicating cells in situ, but if they get further along than that, it gets more difficult to destroy them without being more invasive. There is a new imaging technology that catches them sooner, that’s all, and if we can catch them sooner, and locate them more precisely, we can treat them sooner. When they’re just a few cells in size… well, you get the picture. It’s not your situation that’s changed, it’s ours. New technology. Better medicine. It’s win-win really,” the doctor said finally, and smiled brightly.
“Uh huh,” Chris said. He’s very young, Chris thought. He believes in a win-win scenario. So young that he was still enthralled with the great gift his science had given humanity, and what more could be done with it. Out of pure curiosity, when the doctor had gotten distracted by something in Chris’ record, Chris took the opportunity to ask a question he asked every decade or so. It was the young physician’s unabashed enthusiasm that made him curious, he supposed.
“Do they still teach history and sociology in the schools?”
“History? Sure, some,” the doctor said. “If you mean specifically the Allotment Riots, of course. Sociology? No, not much. I mean, at the university level, sure, people can take all they want. But you know, it takes a lot just to keep up with all of the molebiol and other relevant science. If we could get a neuro- enhancement, now…” he added jokingly.
He looked at Chris, who had heard it so often before that he couldn’t muster even a flicker of a smile. The doctor obviously had second thoughts about what he’d said, because he added seriously, “We have enough to deal with in the science. We can’t control the rest of it. That’s what the Laws and LLE are for, isn’t it? No offense, but isn’t that your job?”
The doctor went back to his memotab and stylus.
“No offense taken,” Chris said mildly. “Right, our responsibility. So, an appointment every two months. Is that it?”
“Yes. That’s based on analyses of your maps from the last three pre-reset scans. Your situation is that you have a long history of nicely modulated telomere regeneration but we have to make sure it is kept under control, and now that we have the technology to catch abnormalities even earlier… In the old days I suspect you would have had what was called a family history of cancer.”
Chris’ aspect radiated patience and the doctor faltered.
“Of course, it’s all here in your record, with tickles: both of your parents and your sister died of cancer in the decade before Longevity was licensed. I guess you spent a lot of your time in the hospitals of the time. Surely with your family history someone explained all our concerns about tumorigenisis to you already.”
“I’m sure they have. I’m probably not a good listener,” Chris said. He remembered being told at some point, decades ago, that his genome handled the Longevity Process especially well, as a result of the infamous tradeoff. After Karen’s death, he’d stopped listening. For the last 55 years he had kept fit and continued to come in on the recommended schedule because it helped him do his job well. He just couldn’t seem to get interested in the details anymore.
Every morning, as they separated to go to their respective jobs, Chris with Enforcement and Karen as a Bioethics professor at the university, she had said “Go forth young man, and fight the good fight.” Karen, who was two years younger than he was, could remember as well as he could when ‘young’ really meant young, so for both of them it had been a bit of a tongue-in-cheek reminder that they had chosen to live in a surreal world.
“If I understand you, I won’t need a full reset every time, at least?” Chris asked, standing up. “I depend a lot on short term memory for my work.”
“No. Most certainly not. As I said, that schedule is unlikely to change. We’ll just be doing scans and making decisions about in situ work with med-bullets based on the results.”
“That’s it, then?”
“You’re done.”
“Thanks,” Chris said politely. The doctor nodded and stared after him as he walked out of the room.
Tuesday morning Livvy, comu in hand, once again navigated the complex series of underground conveyances that took her from her hotel to LLE headquarters. After leaving her room, she subsisted without glimpsing the sun anywhere along her route on the subterranean fasttracks. Not being a vampire, she had already developed a dislike for it. Just asking her comu for the fastest route wasn’t going to cut it. Tomorrow she’d start earlier so she could beat her partner to work and still get a nice walk in the morning sunshine somewhere scenic along the way.
When she got to the office, Louie was there, lying next to Chris’ desk on a nice plaid blanket, but Chris was nowhere to be seen. She had a sinking feeling. He’d already come in and gone out on assignment, leaving her behind. She was going to waste a day of the week she’d been granted for proving herself. She’d either spend all day trying to catch up to him or languishing in the office – if finding him proved impossible – reading Enhancement Law Updates.
After their encounter with Marcy Caster yesterday, they’d spent the afternoon at their desks, Chris filing his report on Marcy and some overdue reports on old cases – that was the same, LLE or not – and Livvy struggling through ELU. She’d started a decade back and was working her way to the current ones, reaching May 2098 without falling asleep more than twice. After two nights in D.C. her internal clock was still on west coast time and sleep was elusive. Melatonin enhancements were illegal but she was going to ask someone – someone other than her partner – where to find some pills.
“Hutchins, in here,” the Chief called, gifting her with a small boost of adrenaline.
“Sit.” She did, and he spent a few moments regarding her thoughtfully. It seemed to be a habit with him. A technique. Maybe he’d learned it from McGregor, she thought sardonically, determined not to squirm.
“McGregor isn’t a training officer. Never has been.”
She sat up even straighter. “So he said. I remember.”
“Well, I’m afraid that’s not just your problem now, it’s mine as well. LLE handles a lot of things differently, and the differences are important.”
“I’ll pick it up,” Livvy said.
“You’re going to have to. McGregor knows LLE better than anyone, except maybe Dalton. Remember that. Follow his lead, and don’t hesitate to ask questions.”
Feeling just a little foolish, Livvy cleared her throat softly. “Got it. It’s why I’m here. Uh, where is he?”
The Chief snorted. “He didn’t tell you. Well, he’s not used to having a partner. He has a reset appointment this morning.
“I’m giving you a new assignment. You’ll get a head start if you want to impress him. There’s a physician, Dr. Milo Josephson, whose clinic staff called in. He missed an appointment this morning. Get ready to check it out with McGregor when gets back. I’ve asked Dalton to fill you in on some background when she has a chance.