Transhuman Read Free Page A

two-mile-wide pond. The trip from Beacon Hill took Luke less than twenty minutes; during peak traffic hours it could take at least twice that.
    Del opened the door for him and tried to smile. “We heard the committee turned you down.”
    They didn’t get a chance to, Luke said to himself. I walked out on the stupid brain-dead morons.
    As he took off his overcoat Lenore called from the kitchen, “Lasagna’s on the way!”
    The two men sat at the dining table as Lenore toted in a steaming tray. Del poured red wine into Luke’s glass, then filled his own. Lenore sat down with nothing but water at her place.
    â€œHow’s Angie?” Luke asked.
    Lenore’s dark eyes widened slightly. “She was sleeping when we left her.”
    â€œDr. Minteer says she’ll sleep more and more,” Del added.
    â€œYeah,” said Luke.
    â€œWe had a meeting with the grief counselor from Hospice,” said Lenore. “She’s very sweet.”
    Luke could see that his daughter was straining to hold herself together, to keep from blubbering. Grief counselor, Luke thought. Fat lot of help a grief counselor can be. He remembered when his wife died and they sent a minister, then a grief counselor, and finally a psychologist to him. Can you bring her back to life? Luke demanded of each of them. Finally they left him alone.
    â€œDr. Schiavo—he’s the head of the oncology department—he wants to try nanotherapy,” Lenore said, her voice flat, empty.
    â€œIt’s a new technique,” said Del. “Experimental.”
    Luke said, “Now that they’ve given up on Angie, they want to try their pet experimental ideas on her. Get another datum point for their charts. But not my idea. I’m not part of their team, their clique. I’m off their charts.” He gritted his teeth with anger.
    â€œIsn’t that what you want to do?” Del challenged.
    â€œNo! I want to save her.”
    â€œWe told Schiavo no,” Del said. “Let her be.”
    â€œShe’s resting comfortably,” said Lenore, almost in a whisper.
    Luke stared at the lasagna on his plate. He couldn’t touch it.
    â€œShe’s not in any pain,” Lenore went on. Like her father, she hadn’t even picked up her fork.
    â€œWe’re the ones in pain,” Luke muttered.
    Lenore burst into tears and pushed her chair back from the table. Before Luke could say anything she got to her feet and ran out of the dining room.
    â€œWhy’d you have to say that?” Del snarled. “Can’t you see she’s holding herself together by a thread?”
    Luke didn’t answer him. He got up and went after his daughter.
    Lenore was sitting on the living room sofa, next to the end table that held Angela’s kindergarten graduation photo, racked with sobs, bent over, her forehead almost touching her knees. Luke sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her quaking shoulders.
    â€œNorrie, it’s going to be all right,” he crooned to her. “I’ll fix everything. I’ll make her all better.”
    â€œThat’s a helluva thing to tell her.” Del stood in the doorway, fury radiating from his tall, broad-shouldered form.
    â€œI can do it,” Luke insisted.
    â€œThe hell you can! The committee turned you down flat. You can’t do a thing for Angie.”
    â€œThe committee’s a collection of assholes.”
    â€œBut without their approval you can’t do a damned thing,” Del repeated, advancing into the room and standing over Luke.
    Luke rose to his feet. “I know what I’m doing. I can save her.”
    â€œDon’t!” Lenore screamed. “Don’t say it! Don’t even think it! Angie’s going to die. She’s going to die.”
    Luke stared down at his daughter’s tear-streaked face. “Norrie, don’t you believe me? Don’t you believe I can save her?”
    Lenore took a