Death -- Fiction; Immortalism -- Fiction; Science fiction
Harker stood some five feet from the operating-table, looking away from
the creature under the machine, thinking, _These people are like small
boys with a new shiny toy. I should never have trusted them alone. I
should never have gotten involved in this._
"What do we do now?" Lurie asked. The gangling biologist was nearing a
state of hysteria. Sweat-drops beaded his forehead. "The man's mind is
gone."
"Permanently?" Harker asked. "There's no way of restoring it?"
Raymond shook his head. "None. The EEG indicates permanent damage to
the brain."
Harker took a deep breath. "In that case, there's nothing for us to do
but kill him again and dispose of the body."
The suggestion seemed to shock them. Barchet reacted first: "But that's
_murder_!"
"Exactly. And what did you think you were committing the first time you
killed Thurman?" There was no answer, so he went on. "According to the
present law of the land, you were all guilty of murder the moment you
put the chloroform-mask over Thurman's face. The law needs fixing now,
but that's irrelevant. You made yourselves subject to the death penalty
when you abducted him, incidentally."
"How about you?" Barchet snapped. "You seem to be counting yourself
out."
Harker resisted the impulse to lash out at the little man who had
caused so much trouble. "As a matter of fact, technically I'm
innocent," he said. "The kidnapping and murder both were carried out
without my knowledge or consent. But there isn't a court in the world
that would believe me, so I guess I'm in this boat with you. At the
moment we all stand guilty of kidnapping and first-degree murder. I'm
simply suggesting we get rid of the evidence and proceed as if nothing
had happened. Either that or call the police right now."
Raymond said, "I think you're right." The lab director's face was
green with fear; like the rest of them, he was awakening slowly to the
magnitude of their act. "We did this thing because we thought we were
serving our goal. We were wrong. But the only way we can _continue_ to
serve our goal is to commit another crime. We'll have to dispose of the
body."
"That won't be hard," Vogel said. "We dispose of bodies pretty
frequently around here. I'll do a routine dissection and then we'll
just make sure the parts get pretty widely scattered through the usual
channels."
Raymond nodded. He seemed to be growing calmer now. "Better begin at
once. Chloroform him again and do the job in the autopsy lab. Make it
the most comprehensive damn autopsy you ever carried out."
Silently Vogel and the other surgeon wheeled the body out, with Lurie
following along behind. In the empty operating room, Harker glared at
Raymond and Barchet. He felt no fear, no apprehension--merely a kind of
dull hopeless pain.
"Well done," he said finally. "I wish I could tell you exactly how I
feel now."
Raymond pursed his lips nervously. "I think I know. You'd like to
strangle us, wouldn't you?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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