Matter Matters

by Oonah V. Joslin

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

“Why can’t they just get it right?” she screeched. The engagements had gone well, the critics had written rave reviews, her Della Dey Vinci dress had stood up to the evening well despite the numerous rhinestones, and the Tellemar Diamond had caused a sensation. Everything was perfect except the damned photo-shoot.

“It looks like I have a squint,” she complained, chucking the ITP at the wall where it merely bounced off unsatisfactorily and landed on the floor. She restrained her urge to stamp on it.

“Oh, not a squint... no,” reassured Charles, picking it up. “You were just looking into the light, that’s all. No one would interpret that as a squint. Besides, everybody knows how beautiful you are.”

Bettany examined Charles’s face for any hint of sarcasm but could find none.

“Well, if you think so...”

“I know so.” It was part of the job to mollify her and she was beautiful, yet Charles realized there was a distinct danger that no one would want to photograph her soon. It had become a litigious nightmare. The press was having a heyday at her expense. They knew just how far they could go.

“I want you to find out all you can about that therapy thing,” she told him “without a hint of where the enquiry comes from. One breath of suspicion and you’re out — right?”

Charles felt hurt. “Unfair,” he complained, “and if I may say...”

“You may not. Now leave me alone, Charles. I’m tired.”

Charles had noticed the dark under her eyes and her increasing irritability. He was sure she hadn’t been on anything this time. She’d suddenly changed her diet without explanation and now... Well, if he couldn’t suggest, he could act.

Charles keyed a secure channel code into his note pad and selected a contact. The screen glowed and a voice said, “I’m in my jammies, Charles luv, so if you don’t mind we’ll keep to vox. Is anything the matter?”

Whilst Vance had identified resemblances between the ‘stuff’ and certain opportunistic pathogens, it had not proved fatal to any life form, plant or animal. In fact its pro-biotic properties were now known to suspend the growth of cancers, halt neuron deterioration and suspend ageing in cells, hence the so-called ‘therapy,’ but it didn’t seem to cure anything. It merely halted progress.

To Vance, the horrors that could be unleashed by Pseudo-matter far outweighed any benefits that could accrue. It didn’t take much imagination to extrapolate from some of the undesirable effects that were already being reported. Several pregnancies of more than twelve months had already occurred in Japan.

“Mums To Be, Never To Be Mums,” as the tabloiders put it.

Great copy, Vance thought. In Rio the oldest man alive had stopped ageing. But the tabloids couldn’t see below the water line of this berg the way Vance could. He had access to a whole lot of other horror stories they knew nothing about. It’s all very well to be ‘forever young,’ but to be forever old, forever disabled, forever a child? Some children were even now showing no further signs of development or growth. And maybe people who don’t metabolize don’t need growing plants but the horror of this stasis pressed heavily in on Vance.

In his mind’s eye, he saw field upon field of undying, inedible vegetables that you couldn’t even replace with ornamental gardens because nothing would grow. There was no one Vance wanted to spend forever with more than Jess — but he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t allow Pseudo-matter to turn everything he loved into what it was never meant to be — indestructible.

Vance woke up slouched over his consol with data and graphs still pouring in from France and early light streaming through the window. His neck was knotted and he stretched, making it worse. Jess came in looking more agitated than annoyed.

“What?” asked Vance, “I know, I know, I’ve done it again. Sorry — whatever.”

Without a word, Jess handed him an ITP.

Vance paled. “This is all I need!” he said. “What’s the girl thinking about? We have to stop her. Where did you get this...” Stupid question. An ITP’s an ITP. He felt in all his pockets for... brushed his hair back off his face, looked distractedly from screen to screen... felt in all his pockets. The thought of his kid sister actually having this stuff pumped into her veins galvanized his need to act, but what exactly he was going to do was beyond him.

“My own brother!” Bettany was incandescent with rage. “And how did he find out? You told him,” she rounded on Charles.

“I told Jess actually — on a secure channel. I didn’t think he’d go straight to the press.”

“You’re fired.”

“You don’t mean it.”

“I most certainly do. Since when do you interfere in my family? Since when do you tell me what I can or can’t do? You’re an employee Charles — nothing more — at least you were.”

That stung.

She turned her back on him, gripped the back of a chair and hung her head. He looked at her slender frame cocooned in a silk robe.

“Don’t cry...”

“Get out!”

Charles left the room without another word and hurriedly hailed a taxi across town to Kensington.

“Charles!” Jess was genuinely surprised to see him. “Charles luv, I thought you were in the States when you phoned.”

“No. We had the premier.”

“Of course.” Jess read the entertainment pages. “Come in.”

“Why’d you do it, Jess? I used a closed communiqué. She’s fired me.”

“It was the only way to get his attention,” he said. “You think he listens to me? I mean he hears me, yes. Then he just goes back to work. I had to make him see.”

Vance had heard voices and came rushing along the hall. “She gave you the push?”

“Unemployed me,” Charles nodded.

“Don’t worry. We’ll sort her out. Where is she now?”

“At her apartment but there’s more, Vance. I think Bettany is ill. You know, really ill. It’s not purely an age thing and it’s not drugs. She looks tired, she’s always in a bad mood and she’s alienating everyone close to her.”

“Sounds normal to me,” said Jess.

“Damn the woman. What about my work?”

“Now who’s being irritable?” remarked Jess. “Runs in the family if you ask me.”

“Nobody asked you, Jess. Did you tell the cab to wait, Charles?”

“No. I didn’t think you’d just drop everything...”

“Well as it happens, there may be something she can do for me — if I can persuade her. This is one time we can perhaps help each other.”

Vance did his best to explain but Bettany’s scientific grasp was poorer than Jess’s and she was a lousy cook into the bargain.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t benefit, Vance,” argued Bettany.

“But that’s just it, Sis,” said Vance. “If you’re ill, and you look it, we can get it seen to, but this stuff isn’t a miracle cure. It isn’t a cure at all. There are no benefits unless you want to live forever — as you are now — without ever eating, reproducing, changing in any way. Charles was right to tell me. Look at this girl.” He showed her the photo of Vixen. “You hate her, right? Pity her.”

Bettany looked askance.

“Yes, I said pity her. I don’t know what she wanted out of life, but life is all she’s going to get now — very long and very empty. Listen, Sis, I know this sounds cock-eyed but if you don’t help me with this campaign a lot of people are not going to die — and that isn’t good.”

Bettany wrung her hands. The press would be all over this. “Charles, I could kill you. What am I supposed to do now?”

“I told the press — not Charles,” said Jess, “and he only told me because he loves you.”

“He does, huh?” said Bettany.

“Yes, he loves you — that’s right, isn’t it, Charles?”

“Always have, Bettany.”

“And I love you and Jess loves you,” urged Vance. “We’re your family, Sis. Don’t do this thing, I beg you.” Vance looked into her tired eyes. “Work with me instead.” His voice was almost a whisper now. “If you would publicly confirm my findings and denounce this treatment, it might put a stop to some of the madness, slow the spread, buy us some time. You’re a role model to so many.”

Bettany looked at the hopeful faces of the other three and softened. Her brother had never asked anything — until now. “Jess?” she asked.

“He’s been doing the research for months,” said Jess. “He sleeps in the lab.”

“Charles?”

“I love you no matter what you decide.”

Bettany was silent, trying to put the past few weeks into perspective. Then at last, “It’s Leukemia,” she said. “I’ve known for a month.”

Charles grabbed her hands. “Why didn’t you say?”

“I didn’t think anyone cared.” Now she was crying and she didn’t care if they saw. She wanted comfort. She wanted love. She wanted to have just a normal span of life. All at once she felt she could face anything, illness, old age, even death. “Okay, Vance! Charles, call a press meeting for this afternoon.” Her tone had turned back to superstar. “Sorry, please would you get some of the press boys over this afternoon... dear?”

“No problem,” he replied and kissed her affectionately just the way he’d always wanted to. She dried her eyes. “Don’t you have a planet to save or something, Vance?”

Vance hugged her. “I’m proud of you, Sis.”

“Go on, then. I’m sure NASA or WHO or CERN must be wondering where you are. Jess? Thank you.”

Vance would find the answer. There must be one. Maybe he could start with tissue culture samples — using growth hormone to try to reverse the effects — or there might be some people who were naturally immune if only he could find them. And he could backtrack research and look at the effects of Pseudo-matter on the T-cell count. He was sure to find the answer — given time. This wasn’t just for everybody, after all. It was for Bettany too.