Читать книгу The Doctor - Lisa Stone, Lisa Stone - Страница 9

‘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.’

‘I am right in saying that no one has ever been woken yet?’ a man asked sceptically.

‘That’s correct,’ Owen said, unfazed. ‘No human at least. But we know the process works. Embryos have been frozen successfully for years using this method.’

Amit slowly raised his hand.

‘Yes, sir, your question.’

‘Do you always need the consent of the person to be preserved or do you accept the consent of their next of kin?’

‘We always need the consent of the person,’ Owen replied. ‘The decision to be preserved is made in life, unlike organ donation that can be made by the next of kin after death.’

‘And there is no way round it?’ Amit asked. ‘I mean, supposing the person is too ill to make the decision or not of sound mind?’

‘Then it would be a matter for the court to decide.’

Amit was about to follow this up with another question when Owen’s phone bleeped. ‘Excuse me,’ he said and read the message, then addressed the audience. ‘That was to let me know a new patient is on their way. A fifteen-year-old boy from England. We have time for a quick tour, then the operating theatre will need to be prepared for his arrival. I’ll answer any further questions as we go.’