“Quite a while ago,” Ticos said dryly. “How much do you know about the assorted longevity techniques?”
“I have a general understanding of them, of course. But I’ve never made a special study of the subject. Nobody I’ve known has—” Her voice trailed off again.
“Don’t let it embarrass you to be talking to a creaky ancient about it,” Ticos said.
She stared at him. “How old are you?”
“Rather close to two hundred standard years. One of the Hub’s most senior citizens, I believe. Not considering, of course, the calendar age of old-timers who resorted to longsleep and are still around.”
Two hundred years was the practical limit to the human biological life span. For a moment Nile didn’t know what to say. She tried to keep shock from showing in her face. But perhaps Ticos noticed it because he went on quickly, his tone light. “It’s curious, you know, that we still aren’t able to do much better along those lines! Of course, during the war centuries there evidently wasn’t much attention given to such impractical lines of research.”
“Impractical?” Nile repeated.
“From the viewpoint of the species. The indefinite extension of individual life units isn’t really too desirable in that respect. Natural replacements have obvious advantages. I can agree in theory. Nevertheless, I find myself resenting the fact that the theory should also apply to me. . . . ”
* * *
He’d started resenting it some two decades ago. Up to then he’d been getting by exceptionally well on biochemical adjustments and gene manipulations, aided by occasional tissue transplants. Then trouble began—so gradually that it was a considerable while before he realized there was a real problem. He was informed at last that adjustment results were becoming increasingly erratic and that there was no known way of balancing them more accurately. Major transplants and the extensive use of synthetics would presently be required. It was suggested that he get his memory stores computerized and transferred to an information bank for reference purposes—and then perhaps check in for longsleep.
Ticos found he didn’t like any of the prospects. His interest level hadn’t diminished noticeably, and he didn’t care to have his activities curtailed by a progressively patched-up body or suspended indefinitely by longsleep. If he didn’t take longsleep, he might make it past the two hundred year mark but evidently not by much. Previously he hadn’t given a great deal of attention to regeneration research. Those problems were for other men—he had a large variety of pet projects of his own going. Now he thought he’d better start investigating the field and look for more acceptable alternatives to the prognosis offered him.
“You’ve been doing that for the past twenty years?” Nile asked.
“Very nearly. Some thousands of lines of research are involved. It makes for a lengthy investigation.”
“I thought most of those lines of research were over on the crackpot side,” she remarked.
“A great many are. I still had to check them out. One problem here is that nobody can prove his method is going to work out indefinitely—no method has been practiced long enough for that. For the same reason it’s difficult to disprove the value of any approach, at least to those who believe in it. So egos and individualism run rampant in that area. Even the orthodox work isn’t well coordinated.”
“So I understand,” Nile said. “You’d think the Federation would take a hand in it.”
“You might think so,” Ticos agreed. “However, there may be a consensus of opinion at Overgovernment levels that, because of economic and other factors, the unlimited prolongation of life in human beings would have questionable value. At any rate, while the Federation doesn’t discourage longevity research, it doesn’t actively support it. You could say it tolerates it.”
“What about their own lives? They’re human.”
He shrugged. “They may be putting their trust in longsleep—some happy future in which all such problems will be solved. I wouldn’t know. Of course, a good many people suspect that if you’re one of the elect, you’ll have treatments that work indefinitely. It seems a little improbable. Anyway I’m betting largely on biochemistry now. The individual cells. Keep them cleared of degenerative garbage, and other problems may no longer be too significant. I made some improvements in that area a few years ago. An immediate result was improvements in myself. As a matter of fact, I’ve been given to understand they’re probably the reason I’m still operational.”
“You’ve written that up?” Nile asked.
“Not under my name. The university handles that end of it. I’ve kept the biochemical research going, but I’ve also been working on new slants since. It struck me frequently in the course of all this that our instincts evidently aren’t in favor of letting us go on indefinitely.”
She frowned. “What gives you that impression?”
“For one thing, the fact that we generally won’t put out very much effort for it. A remarkable number of my earlier associates dropped out on treatments simply because they kept forgetting to do, or refused to do, the relatively simple things needed to stay alive. It was as though they’d decided it wasn’t important enough and they couldn’t be bothered.”
Nile said doubtfully, “You aren’t exaggerating?”
“No. It’s a common picture. The instincts accept the life and death cycle even when we’re consciously opposed to it. They work for the species. The individual has significance to the species only to the point of maturity. The instincts support him until he’s had an opportunity to pass along his genetic contribution. Then they start pulling him down. If a method eventually is developed to retain life and biological youth with no effort, it might be a different matter. Longsleep provides an illusion of that at present. But longsleep shelves the problem. I began to suspect longevity research itself is hampered by the instincts. And I’m not sure it isn’t . . . we really should be farther along with it. At any rate, I decided to check with people who are interested in the less accessible areas of the mind. They’re working in a major playground of the instincts, and they might have information. . . . ”
* * *
He’d found two groups who were obtaining longevity and rejuvenation effects as a by-product of mental experimentation. One was the Psychovariant Association. Nile knew as much about their work as they’d chosen to publish in the digests she followed. They used assorted forcing procedures to extend and modify mental experience. “Don’t they make heavy use of synthetics?” she asked.
Ticos nodded. “Yes. Not only to replace failing organs but to improve on healthy ones. That’s their view of it. I don’t fancy the approach myself. But they have systems of basic mind exercises directed at emotional manipulation. Longevity’s a secondary interest, but they’ve accumulated plenty of evidence that the exercises support it. . . . ”
The other project was a branch of the Federation’s Psychology Service. Its goal was a total investigation of the mind and the gaining of conscious controls over its unconscious potential. The processes were elaborate. In the course of them, deep-reaching therapeutic adjustments were required and obtained. Physical regeneration frequently was a result—again not as a primary objective but as a beneficial side-effect.
Ticos decided this approach also went beyond his own aims. His interests were outward-directed; his mind was an efficient instrument for that purpose, and he demanded no more of it. However, the goals of both organizations were as definitely bent on overcoming normal human limitations as longevity research. They were aware of the type of inherent resistances he had suspected and had developed methods of dealing with them.
“The matter of mind-body interaction,” he said. “I can learn to distinguish and control instinctual effects both in my mind and in associated physical processes. And that’s what I’ve started to do.”
He’d presented his problem to members of the two groups, and a modified individual schedule of mind-control exercises was worked out for him. He’d practiced them under direction until his mentors decided he was capable of continuing on his own. Then he’d closed out the final phases of his university work. His search for more effective biochemical serums would continue; he was convinced now it was the basic key to success.
“Keep the instincts from interfering and who knows—we might have it made!”
“Immortality?” asked Nile.
He gave her his quick grin. “Let’s try for a thousand standard years first.”
She smiled. “You almost have me believing you, Ticos! And how does becoming a floatwood hermit fit in with it all?”
“Nandy-Cline evidently is a simmering hotbed of life. I know the general type of substances I’ll be looking for next, and I think I’m at least as likely to find them here as anywhere else.”
Nile nodded. “You might find almost anything here. Why make it a one-man job?”
“Planned solitude,” said Ticos.
“What will that do for you?”
“The mind exercises. Does it seem to mean anything if I say that at the stages at which I’ll now be working I step outside the standard mental patterns of the species?”