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The nurse withdrew a syringe and plunged it into the skin on one side of the baby’s pale tender neck; the infant screamed and kicked her pajama-clad feet. Max lifted himself a little from his seat and looked on with horror as the audience burst into applause.
“Pain,” the host said. “That is what real pain looks like. Fascinating, is it not? And it was born to one of us. It should be impossible, but it happened, and we all want answers. Give a warm round of applause to the parents of Baby Josephine, who have allowed us to conduct these experiments which should shed some light on this mystery.” The parents nodded to the camera, and stood smiling and proud.
“And to anyone concerned, our experts warned us to sterilize the needle since pre-immortals have incredibly delicate immune systems. An examination by our geneticists has verified that this infant’s cells will one day begin to die more quickly that they can be reproduced. As you know, this is a phenomenon called aging, which will generally limit its life span to less than 100 years. And unlike us, she is biologically equipped to shed tears.”
“But enough about Baby Josie for now.” Lenny turned back to Max. “Maxwell, these concerned parents are anxious to hear from a real mortal, a living fossil, to ask questions about what kind of life they can expect for their infant.
“This is educational for all of us and we are all wondering, if I may be so blunt, how could you endure it? The disease of mortality. Knowing you would die within a span of mere decades, yet going about your daily tasks as if that day would never come? Mind you, I have only admiration for your effort to find meaning in your – if I may say so – insignificant lives. How did you go on?”
Max frowned. “Before I answer, I want you to know that I am only answering your questions so that you will treat Baby Josie with the respect and tenderness due to her. Otherwise, I would prefer that you had left me where I was.”
“Quite alright,” Lenny raised his eyebrows. “Please proceed.”
“We went about our lives as if we would never die.” Maxwell shook his head. “We thought about death only when it happened. We loved our families and most of us spent our time working to cover living costs. None of us saw being human as a terminal disease.”
“Please forgive me,” Lenny said, “but it sounds like you were all in terrible denial. How is mortality not a terminal disease?”
“When we were healthy, we enjoyed our lives. There was music and beauty and something called ice cream. When someone was terminally ill, we pitied them, not ourselves.”
Lenny gave the audience a droll expression. “Did you hear that, Ladies and Gentlemen? They pitiedthose diagnosed to have only a few years lessto live than they had. Absolutely fascinating.” He looked out over the silent audience and then back at Maxwell. “But did you not pity all of your fellow humans? The undiagnosed? After all, you were all in the same deplorable situation. You all suffered, knowing that your lives, so important to you, would end. Did you treat each other with compassion?”
“I wish I could say we did,” Max said. “There were compassionate people. But not all.”
“One thing that fascinates me,” Lenny said, “is the phenomenon of war. Your lives were already so short. Yet you took the lives of your own species. Why were you so angry? Why were you constantly killing each other?”
“Not everyone killed.” Max sighed and squirmed. “But when we did, it was over a lot of different things: land, power, wealth, and even religion. Sometimes we killed each other over beliefs. Beliefs about what life meant, or who God was, or what happened after you died.”
Lenny made a “tsk” sound with his mouth. “Cutting life even shorter than it already was,” He shook his head, “and over arguments over death itself. So terribly ironic. Where was your compassion for each other? You were all doomed, all on the same sinking ship.”
“We were not all murderers. There were many good people, wise people, and even heroic people.” Max fought to steady the quaver rising in his voice. “But they are gone now, all gone. I wish I could show them to you, how good they were, how much I loved them.”
“I understand,” Lenny nodded. “You are entitled, in fact, to believe anything you wish. You have earned that right, and we are tolerant here. Are we not?” Lenny waved beckoning hands at the audience, which burst into dramatic applause.
“What is thatsupposed to mean?”
“Well, it is all a little alien to us. In our millennium we are always kind to each other. When someone, for example, complains of ennui, we try to comfort and entertain them as best we can. This show, for example, is therapeutic because it is entertaining. And funded by a non-profit organization dedicated to combatting ennui, “EES” or “The Ennui Eradication Society.” Why do you think our chairs are so high? Studies have shown that frequently changing perspectives amuses people. They are also a bit wobbly to evoke the primitive emotion of fear, even though falling is no real threat to us. And the chairs in the audience – as you can see – are arranged in a lovely spiral.”
“So boredom is your worst problem? No wars? No one disagrees? Without arguing, without struggling, how do you learn?” Max clamped his arms on the edge of the chair and looked up, but the harsh lights forced his gaze down again.
“Incredible how, despite the misery and hopelessness of a severely limited life span, this creature rationalizes the need for conflict. As you can see, too, pre-sentient creatures are easily riled. Despite that, we should all remember to treat him with the compassion.”
A murmur of agreement followed and a smattering of polite applause. At the sudden sound the baby let out a soft wail.
“Pre-sentient?” Maxwell said. “Is that how you view us?”
“Forgive me,” Lenny said, “but your intellect and sensory capabilities are severely limited compared to ours. You are less evolved. For example you are capable of seeing only a short color range. Just as we do you see colors like yellow, red, and blue. But you are unable to distinguish aber-moorish and flu-escent. To you, having no frame of reference, they would be impossible to describe.”
Maxwell frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
Lenny continued. “Of course, I mean no insult. Members of your species are among our ancient ancestors just like our piscatorial predecessors and for that we are all grateful to you. But back on point: What do you think is the best thing we can do for Baby Josie, aside from finding a cure for the disease of mortality appropriately delicate for her fragile cells?”
“Well,” Maxwell leaned toward the audience, “you could start by treating her with respect and not pity. You could love her, play with her, and teach her that her short life on earth is a gift. Let her know that she may suffer at times, but that she will learn from it and that there will also be joy. And do not ever treat her like a freak. She is not an atavist, she is a baby. She was not born to soothe your boredom, nor is she is a pin cushion. For the love of God, stop poking her with needles and making her cry for your amusement.”
“How, then, should we amuse ourselves?”
Maxwell looked around. “This show is an outrage. For a species so evolved, you are a bunch of idiots. Fuck this place. Fuck your ennui.”
“My goodness.” Laughter rang out from where Lenny was sitting. “I am so glad that we decided to have you on our show. You are, quite simply, a delight. Audience, do you agree? Is he not the most entertaining guest we have ever had?”
Cheers exploded from the audience. “But,” Lenny said, “I think he is more than entertaining. His visit has been educational. In our time, most everyone knows too much. Maxwell here has proven that even for us, life can be an adventure, full of discovery. And Max makes another excellent point. Folks, we have no reason for ennui. None, whatsoever. New horizons of knowledge exist, if only we can dust off our curiosity and explore them.
“Furthermore, I believe we may be poised on the brink of a revolution,” Lenny continued. “And it began in such a surprising way, with Baby Josie and the wildly popular holo-vids of her being injected with needles and crying. Given her primitive status, she is an unlikely savior for those of us gripped with ennui, but that is what many have called her, facetiously, a savior.” Lenny chuckled. “And I must say, I agree.”
“Regrettably, the talking portion of our show is now coming to an end. In a moment the holographic pyrotechnics will commence. But to remind all of you suffering from ennui of how spectacular your lives are, allow us to leave you with a final image of hope.” He motioned to the nurse at the bottom of the stage and she looked up expectantly. “If Baby Josie would perform for us one more time.”
“There is no more room on her neck, Lenny.”
“No problem. I hear that the tender skin around the eyes is especially sensitive.”
Maxwell was standing, legs apart and shoulders hunched, as the nurse headed toward the bassinet with her needle primed. He marched toward the bassinet until the stage hand blocked his progress. Max stopped, turned his head, and set his gaze on the laddered chair in the front of the stage, the one where Lenny sat.
(To be continued)