Dorning kept a watchful eye from the bedroom patio as Miguel scampered on the beach, concerned about the boy’s welfare. Fortunately, none of the outcroppings of rock the boy seemed to frequent were tall enough to cause serious injury in a fall; the ocean itself was another matter. Dorning disliked the game of tag Miguel played with the crashing waves and wished the boy at least knew how to swim should he one day lose his gamble and get pulled in. He was fast enough to avoid the waves entirely most of the time, but still Dorning fretted. He had stalled on his promise of buying the boy a bicycle because of the safety issues; now it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, Percival, I’m glad you like him.”
“He’s a good boy. I’ve got to leave my money to someone. Might as well be someone young enough to enjoy it.”
Dorning looked down at the professor, who was wrapped in a light blanket for protection from the steady ocean breeze. “You realize you’re actually leaving the money to yourself, after the procedure.”
“Hmm? Oh yes, yes. Of course.”
Dorning wondered again if Marlowe truly believed in everything they were trying to accomplish, or if as he suspected the professor was merely treating the whole thing as a crapshoot—long odds but worth it.
He decided to wait a little longer before making his startling announcement.
Dorning cleared his throat and changed the subject.
“I’m very sorry about your final diagnosis, Professor.”
Marlowe didn’t respond.
“It would have been nice if it had just been dehydration as you originally thought, but that spot of blood you coughed up . . .” Dorning left the rest unsaid.
The professor pulled the blanket around him tighter. “You must be nearly done with all the details of your experiment, Dorning. Before you were desperate to keep me alive. Now you don’t sound so sad I’m about to go.”
Dorning couldn’t help but grin, a wide grin that nearly made him laugh out loud.
“Yes, Professor, I’m ready. I know exactly what to do now. I’ve jumped the last hurdle, found the last piece of the puzzle. We have the boy, and we have the procedures. This will work. I guarantee it. It will work like an absolute charm.”
Marlowe harrumphed. “Or what? I get my money back?”
Dorning refused to let his happy mood be shattered. He turned and grinned down at the professor, who stared back at him darkly. “That’s always what you’ve really thought, isn’t it, Percival? That this was probably a waste of time and money?”
“No, not a waste. I think you’ve advanced our understanding of memory enormously. Why, with what you’ve discovered so far, there might be a Nobel Prize of your own waiting for you even if your results are limited.”
Dorning grinned, unabashed. “Limited? Really? Well then, let me tell you some astonishing news that might finally change your mind. The results of my latest experiments were an unqualified success. When I tried my newest technique on the primates, I achieved complete memory transfer for the first time. Do you hear me? Total and complete transfer! I have since repeated the experiment successfully on other animals. It works, by God. It works!”
Marlowe’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible,” he said quietly. “I’ve read every single one of your research reports. The problems you’ve had transferring all the delicate memory proteins intact seemed nearly insurmountable. How the devil did you do it, Dorning?”
He ignored the professor’s question, gazing out over the ocean instead. “Just imagine. You get to live another lifetime, nearly from the beginning. You can finish things left undone and strike out in totally new directions. This one time, nothing will be wasted on youth.” He paused. “I envy you, Professor. I doubt I’ll be given a second chance. Perhaps no one else will ever again, once the do-gooders with their misplaced ethics realize what we’ve actually accomplished. You’ll be unique in all the world. Think of the possibilities! It may not be immortality, but it’s pretty damn close.” He grinned again as he watched the boy skip happily across the sand. “Soon, that will be you.” He nodded.
The professor looked away and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. “Something the boy said. ‘How can two people share one brain? That doesn’t seem possible.’ He’s right, Dorning. It doesn’t seem possible, despite what you think you’ve achieved.”
“What? No, that’s wrong. There won’t be a boy anymore, remember? There will only be you.”
Marlowe’s eyes widened again, this time in alarm. It was a moment before he spoke. “What do you mean, ‘there won’t be a boy anymore’?”
“I mean for all practical purposes, he’ll be gone. Your personality, your memories, every thought that makes you, well, you, will eventually supplant Miguel’s meager experiences and memories. That’s what I’ve striven for all these years; that’s what I struggled so hard to achieve. And I have. In time there will only be you, Percival Marlowe, the greatest mind since Einstein. Miguel will essentially . . . vanish. And as long as we keep you away from anything familiar to the boy that might trigger a relapse, he will stay vanished.” He looked at the professor, puzzled. “I thought you understood. It was clearly spelled out in my initial proposal, you know.”
The professor gasped. “No, I didn’t understand it at all, or at least, didn’t believe it.” There was open fear in his eyes now. “My God. If I hadn’t read your slow but steady results all these years, I would think you quite mad.”
Dorning shrugged, unfazed by Marlowe’s remark. “Mad? No, I’m not mad. I’m realistic. What contributions to society could the boy make, being homeless, uneducated, and without any hope for meaningful employment? This way at least he serves a noble purpose. Oh, it’s possible from time to time some vague memory of his former self might surface, but that’s unproven. After all, I can’t tell what the animals are thinking. I can only see how they assume the lives of the animals whose memories were implanted in them, abandoning their former lives. That’s what you’re going to do, Professor, assume control. You’ll see.”
Marlowe stared out at Miguel, his eyes still wide with apprehension. “I thought it would be exactly the opposite, that I would be the vague memories from time to time. That was more than enough for me. Poor Miguel.” He looked at Dorning as if seeing him for the first time. “Dorning, I’m not sure anymore we have the right to do this. Maybe those do-gooders should be involved.”
Dorning vigorously shook his head. “Absolutely not. They would only cause needless delays while the matter was debated over and over. They would raid my research, demand federal or even international regulations to control the procedure. By the time they decided to do anything, I’m afraid you would be long dead and buried. I can’t permit that. Why do you think I avoided seeking government funds for my work? I can’t have them meddling in things they can’t fully comprehend.”
“Oh, but you do?”
Dorning firmly clapped his hands together. “Yes! I’m the only one who does.”
The professor looked warily towards the boy. “You’ve wrestled with the procedure and won, but not with the long term consequences, Dorning. Don’t you see? If you’re successful, you might have found a unique way to create a new class of slaves.”
Dorning gasped, then looked perplexed. “Slaves? What are you talking about? The boy will be free to go anywhere he wants, anytime he wants. He won’t be denied any freedom.”
Marlowe held up a bony index finger from under the blanket. “Except the freedom to be himself, to create his own life memories. You said there won’t be a boy anymore, remember?”
Dorning sighed impatiently, frustrated by the professor’s new objections. “Semantics, that’s all this is. Besides, it’s a little late now to harbor any doubts. I’ve been absolutely upfront with you about my research and my intentions. You’ve had the chance to read all my test results, and you did. You just said so yourself.”
The professor nodded. “Yes, I did. What I didn’t realize until now, however, was your inability to weigh all the moral issues.” He stared hard at Dorning.
Dorning drew himself up, towering over the frail figure in the wheelchair. “Not true. I’ve had nothing but your best interests in mind from the very beginning, Professor. I’m doing this for your ultimate benefit, not mine.”
“Really? Just mine? So who has the boy’s best interests in mind?”
Dorning sighed again, and then glanced towards Miguel, who was once more running from the surging waves. “Well, certainly it’s for his benefit too. The quality of his life will improve dramatically. He’ll want for nothing, instead of maybe being killed in the streets.”
“But he won’t have much say in the matter, will he? No freedom of choice.”
“He’s just a child. He will do as he’s told. He’s too young to make any decisions about his future.”
“But he won’t be a child forever. Or for much longer, if your experiment works as well as you claim it will. That’s what you’re taking away from him.”
Dorning opened his mouth to protest, then slowly closed it. He grinned again. “Let’s just say I respectfully disagree with you, and let it go at that. Obviously we are not going to agree, so what’s the point of arguing?”
“The point of arguing is to make sure what we’re about to do is acceptable to society.”
Dorning nodded respectfully. “And it most certainly is. Society will benefit greatly. Besides, everything is in place. We can’t alter our plans now; there’s too much at stake.”
Marlowe hesitated. “I don’t suppose I could refuse to go along?”
Dorning slowly shook his head. “No, Percival. You’ve signed all of the legal papers quite willingly, you know. I must hold you to your commitment. It’s for your own good. You’ll see. I refuse to let one of the most brilliant minds that ever lived perish needlessly. There’s no reason to. We have the hard-fought means to give you a second life, and we must see it through to completion. We must, and we will.” He paused. “Besides, thanks to your years of generous financial support, you’re as responsible for my discovery as I am. Or at least, nearly so.”
The professor shrank down in his wheelchair. “Then this is my fault too, isn’t it? Until the boy showed up, I never seriously considered what your ultimate success might do to someone else, particularly someone so very young, someone I’ve gotten to know.” He watched Miguel climb a rock near the water’s edge. “Had I ever suspected you might fully succeed, had I not been so caught up with the idea of my life being remembered—even if only in brief flashes—I never would have agreed to this, despite my desire to somehow live on.” He wheeled himself around to face Dorning directly. “I would say congratulations, Dorning, but I wouldn’t really mean it. You were right, and I was wrong. I didn’t think your experiment would ever actually work the way you intended. Not in my lifetime, at least.”
Dorning smiled brightly, his years of frustration gone for having finally bested the great Percival Marlowe. “Glad to prove you wrong, Professor. Very glad indeed.”
****
As the evening faded to twilight, Miguel noticed Doctor Dorning was gone from the patio. Only the thin figure of the professor in his wheelchair was visible in silhouette. Miguel waved to the professor, who barely stirred in acknowledgement, and then the boy turned his attention back to pulling half-buried seashells out of the sand before it became too dark to see them. The beach was unusually wide today, as if the ocean had shrunk. When he had mentioned it to the professor at lunch—they always ate lunch together now—the professor said it was low tide, and to take full advantage of it. And so the boy was, running back and forth with the meager rise and fall of the surf, grabbing handfuls of shells and carrying them up to the rock where he had them spread out to dry.
As he arrived with another armful of shells, he heard an unfamiliar noise behind him, one that made him pause. It was a shuffling noise, like something being dragged across the beach towards him. Miguel slowly turned around.
The shells went clattering back down to the sand, forgotten.
Miguel shrank back against the rock, unable for a moment to breathe. There on the beach, only a few yards away was the professor, crawling towards him, reaching for him like some sort of impossible, giant crab. Miguel saw the wheelchair abandoned on the patio, the blanket the professor had been wearing now being dragged behind him as if refusing to let go.
The boy could only whisper: “No. No. No.”
He finally found the courage to run to the professor’s side, sank to his knees and took the old man’s hand. It was cold and limp and shook as if the professor was afraid.
Miguel knew he had to help, saw his own hands were shaking too, felt his heart racing not in fear for himself but for the professor.
Marlowe tried to lift his head up but failed. Miguel cradled him as best he could and pulled the blanket back up and over the gasping figure.
“Professor! What are you doing out here? Are you all right?” He looked towards the beach house, hoping the housekeeper would see what was happening and come rushing to their aid. She wasn’t in sight. “Help us!” he yelled as loud as he could.
With that, the professor stirred, opened his eyes and looked at Miguel as if surprised to see him. “I’m sorry.” His voice was coarse. “I’m so very sorry. I didn’t know. Didn’t know.”
“There, there,” the boy heard himself say once again to the professor. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” He brushed back the professor’s sparse, windblown hair. “Help us, please!” he shouted towards the house.
This time the housekeeper appeared on the patio. Miguel heard her wail, then saw her come running down the path the professor had cut through the sand.
Miguel breathed out in relief. “See? You’re gonna be all right.” He nodded towards Natalie.
Marlowe stared steadily at Miguel, ignoring where the boy wanted him to look. “But are you?”
Miguel shook his head, confused by the question. “What? What did you say?”
And then Natalie was there. She took the professor from him, cradling his head better than Miguel was able to.
She turned to him. He was surprised to see her crying.
“Go back to the house. Call Dr. Dorning at once. The number is on the phone.” She helped the professor sit up as she draped the blanket around his shoulders. “Hurry.”
Miguel sprinted back to the house. He wanted to believe what he told the professor was true but wondered what was happening to the poor old man, why he would do such a crazy thing, and why he was talking nonsense. To his surprise, he felt tears pour down his cheeks, and he had to fight not to cry as he dialed the number.
“Hello?” The man’s voice was unmistakable.
Despite his best effort, Miguel began to sob.
“Hello? Hello?” the familiar voice repeated.
“The Professor . . .”
That was all he could manage before his voice broke down again.
“I understand. I’m on my way. Don’t call anyone else, okay?”
The line went dead.
Miguel hung up, still sobbing but glad the doctor knew immediately what was wrong and what to do. He stared across the beach to where Natalie and the professor sat together in the near darkness, barely visible now as if they were fading away with the light.
“Please don’t die,” he whimpered. “I really didn’t want you to die. Not really.”