The Doctor. Lisa Stone
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.’
‘Not again!’ Amit shouted as he read the delivery card Alisha had left on the hall table. ‘I told you a parcel was coming for me today! Couldn’t you have answered the fucking door?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, anxiously watching him from the far end of the hall. ‘I was upstairs and couldn’t get down in time. They only ring once and then rush off and leave it with the neighbour.’
‘That’s the third time in two weeks, you silly cow, and that woman next door is fucking nosy.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Alisha said again. ‘I’ll serve your dinner so it’s ready when you get back.’
Amit threw open the front door and went down their garden path, seething at her incompetence. He didn’t ask much of his wife but got even less! Couldn’t she do anything he asked?
Latching their garden gate behind him, he paused and breathed in the fresh air. He couldn’t turn up next door in a rage. Others weren’t as forgiving as Alisha.
At seven o’clock it was still light, but the air had an edge to it, a reminder that autumn wasn’t far away. Amit liked the seasons, the changes, the cycle of nature, that spring came after winter with the promise of new life. It was a metaphor for his plans, he thought as he began along the pavement. Alisha had refused to sign up to ELECT, but that wasn’t the end of it, oh no, not by a long way. He could – and would – succeed. Maybe not the first time; it would take trial and error, but he would practice until he got it right. Thanks to the internet, he could buy virtually everything he needed online, but it was worrying that his parcels kept being delivered next door.
He continued up the neighbours’ drive. They didn’t have a gate; their front garden and drive were open plan. Ben Johnston and Emily King; they weren’t married. He seemed OK and was content with ‘good morning’ and a few words, but she wanted to talk and kept inviting Alisha in for a coffee. He’d warned Alisha to stay away and he knew she wouldn’t disobey him. He’d seen Emily King looking at their house, scrutinizing it as she walked by or drove past in her car. He doubted she suspected, he was too careful, and had given her no cause for suspicion. She’d do well to concentrate on her baby and housework. The elderly couple on the other side weren’t a problem, but he couldn’t ask them to take his packages, they were frail and took