The Doctor

A 15-year-old boy is to be frozen in the hope he can be brought back to life at a later date and cured of the disease that killed him.

The teenager, who cannot be named for legal reasons, is close to death from a rare genetic condition. Because he is a minor he needed the court’s permission to have his body frozen using a process called cryonics.

He told the judge he had investigated cryonics and was convinced that it would give him the chance of life in years to come when a cure had been found. The judge agreed.

Following his death, his body will be taken from where he lives in England to the US, where it will be frozen and preserved at a cost of £40,000.

‘Read it!’ Dr Amit Burman snapped, throwing the newspaper onto his wife’s lap. ‘Perhaps you will believe me now a judge has ruled it’s acceptable.’

Alisha picked up the newspaper, her fingers trembling, and read the article while he stood by waiting impatiently. She hated him when he was like this, all agitated. He scared her even more.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice slight. ‘You know my feelings. I think it’s unnatural, macabre, and against the laws of God and nature.’

‘And where is your God now you, you silly bitch?’ Amit demanded, his eyes blazing. ‘I don’t see him saving your life. Only doctors and advances in medicine can do that, and research is not progressing fast enough.’

‘But …’ she began and had to stop as a coughing fit took hold. She picked up the glass of water she always kept within reach and took a few sips. Her hand shook.

‘Don’t you see there’s nothing else the doctors can do for you?’ Amit persisted, trying to lower his voice. ‘You’d be making medical history. At the forefront of science. I’d do it if it was me.’

‘This is not the answer,’ she said quietly. ‘And there is no proof it will work. I think that poor lad and his parents have had their hopes raised for nothing. It is immoral. All that money that could have been better spent. I would hate to think of being sealed in a metal drum rather than at peace in the earth. He won’t even have a grave they can visit.’

‘No! Because he won’t be dead. You’re not listening to me!’ He thumped the coffee table hard and her water slopped from its glass. ‘He’ll be in a state of suspended animation. Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’

‘Amit,’ she said, already recoiling from the blow that was sure to follow if she crossed him, ‘I’m not doing it. I don’t want to be frozen when I die and you can’t make me.’

But the look in his eye as he raised his fist said that he could and would if necessary.

Chapter Three (#ulink_414faa9e-c876-5182-b351-cb10c78e2947)

‘Welcome to the future. Welcome to ELECT – the gateway to everlasting life. I’m Owen, your guide for the day. You all have your information packs? Good. Sit back and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll start by saying a bit about our organization, then we’ll watch a short film of an operation in progress, followed by a tour of our facility.’

As Owen began his talk, Dr Amit Burman glanced around the room. There were twenty of them seated in rows of matching leather armchairs in this small lecture room. Of different ages, ethnicity, male and female, but united in the belief that they or a family member could be preserved after death and brought back to continue their life. Some were clearly already ill – one woman had a portable oxygen tank hissing quietly by her side, while others, like him, were planning ahead. Here was the proof that old age and terminal illness needn’t be the end, that science would allow them to return and continue where they’d left off. Amit couldn’t understand why there weren’t more here. Twenty wasn’t a huge number considering what was on offer.

He was taking notes, as were some of the others, although he thought he probably knew more than most – from being a doctor and all the research he’d done. He probably knew as much as Owen, he thought smugly, who was, after all, only their rep and tour guide.

Owen was winding up the introductory talk now and about to start the film. The room fell silent as he pressed the remote control to dim the lights, and moved away from the large wall-mounted screen. The film began with a smiling shot of the founder, welcoming them and explaining their mission statement. Then his voice continued on the voice-over as the film moved to the operating theatre.

Amit sat upright in his chair and concentrated hard. It was just like any high-tech operating theatre, and he was used to that. A dozen gowned and gloved staff: doctors, nurses, technicians, but with one significant difference – the patient was already technically dead. As the surgeon cut into the patient’s artery to drain the blood, the camera moved to a discreet angle to protect the squeamish. But Amit didn’t mind blood, not one bit. He saw it a lot in his job.

‘The patient’s blood is replaced by a chemical solution to stop ice crystals forming,’ the commentary on the film continued. A mass of wires and tubes could be seen snaking from the patient to bottles, monitors and a computer. ‘Then the body is gradually cooled down to minus 130 degrees Celsius before being submerged in the aluminium tank.’ A shot of rows of aluminium tanks standing like soldiers in the storage facility, their motors running in the background and labelled with the dangerous chemical symbol. ‘Inside the tanks, the temperature is minus 190 degrees Celsius. Colder than any place on earth and cold enough to stop the body from deteriorating. They are checked daily and will remain there until a cure is found when they will be brought back to life. Welcome to the future. Welcome to ELECT – Eternal Life Education Cryonics Trust.’

The film ended and the room remained very quiet as the enormity of what they’d seen stayed with them.

Owen slowly raised the lights and then returned to the front. The silence in the room continued until he spoke.

‘Quite something isn’t it?’ There were murmurs of agreement. ‘I’m sure you have plenty of questions, so if you could raise your hands we’ll take it in turns.’

‘I’m sorry.’ A middle-age woman stood. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, this isn’t for me. I won’t waste your time further.’

‘No problem. If you go to reception someone will see you out.’

Apologising again, she hurried from the room, which left the group feeling united with the dissenter gone.

Hands waved in the air.

‘Yes, sir,’ Owen said, pointing to a man in the front row. ‘Your question.’

‘How do you check on them each day? Is there a window in the aluminium tank?’

‘No, sir, we lift the lid of the tank. The liquid nitrogen needs topping up a little each day and this is done manually at the same time.’

The man nodded and Owen pointed to the next hand.

‘Why are the patients suspended upside down in their tanks?’ a young woman in her thirties asked.

‘So that if there was an incident, the head would be the last to be affected. I would add that we haven’t had an incident yet.’

He moved swiftly on, pointing to another person with their hand in the air.

‘All this relies on electricity. What happens if there is a power cut?’

‘We have our own emergency generating system. Also, the building is designed to withstand hurricanes and earthquakes.’

‘Do you store family members?’ a man asked.

‘Yes, we have a husband and wife here already.’

Amit watched as an elderly lady raised her hand a little sheepishly.

‘Yes, ma’am?’

‘This may sound silly, but do you store pets?’

Idiot, Amit thought.

‘Absolutely,’ Owen said. ‘It’s not a silly question. We have two dogs and a cat. They are held in a separate room as their preservation tanks are that much smaller.’

‘Is ELECT financially stable?’ a middle-aged man asked. ‘What you are doing here is obviously very long term. How can we be sure you will still be here in fifty or a hundred years’ time?’

‘We have insurance to cover bankruptcy but our organization is sound. You can view our accounts online.’

‘Can loved ones visit the deceased here?’

‘Yes, but we encourage them to visit their memorial stone instead. It’s a more pleasant experience. All you can see here is a metal tank.’

‘The film we’ve just watched said you also store body parts,’ someone else asked. ‘Why?’

‘So that when we wake the patient we can replace any damaged or diseased organs.’