until life do us part
BY WINSTON MARKS
It's a long life, when you're
immortal. To retain sanity you've got
to be unemotional. To be unemotional,
you can't fall in love....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It was a deathless world, but a woman was dying.
Anne Tabor lay limp and pale, her long, slender limbs making onlyshallow depressions on the mercury bath which supported her. WebbFellow stood over her awaiting the effects of the sedative to relieveher pain.
His title was Doctor, but almost everyone in this age had an M. D.certificate with several specialties to his credit. Webb Fellow wassimply one who continued to find interest and diversion in the fieldof physiological maintenance.
He stood tall and strong above her, lean-bellied, smooth-faced and calmappearing, yet he didn't feel especially calm. As the agony eased fromAnne's face he spoke softly.
"I'm glad you came to me, Anne."
She moistened her lips and spoke without opening her eyes. "It wasyou or Clifford—and Cliff hasn't practiced for a century or more.It's—it's quite important to me, Webb. I really want to live. Notbecause I'm afraid of dying, but...."
"I know, Anne. I know."
Everyone in Chicago knew. Anne Tabor was the first female of that cityto be chosen for motherhood in almost a decade. And in the three dayssince the news had flashed from Washington, Anne Tabor had generatedwithin the blood-stream of her lovely, near-perfect body, a mutatedcancerous cell that threatened to destroy her. Mutant leukemia!
"Just relax, dear. We have the whole city of Chicago to draw on forblood while we work this thing out."
He touched a cool hand to her fevered forehead, and the slight motionstirred the golden halo that her hair made on the silvery surface ofthe mercury.
The word, "dear", echoed strangely in his ears once he had said it. Hereyes had opened at the expression of sentiment, and now they were wideand blue as they examined him. A tiny smile curved her pale lips. "DidI hear correctly?"
"Yes, dear." He repeated the word deliberately, and for the first timesince his student days he felt the web of his emotions tighten andtwist into a knot of unreason.
She mustn't die ... not now!
Her smile widened with her look of mild amazement. "Why Webb, I dobelieve you mean it!"
"You have always been high in my affections, Anne."
"Yes, but—it's a long life. Such a long life!"
That damned phrase again! The essence of sanity, they called it. Thecliche of cliches that under-scored this whole business of immortality.Be not concerned for the frustrations of the moment. All obstacles aretransient—all obstacles and all emotions. The price of immortality iscaution, patience, temperance. Deep personal attachments lead to love,love leads to jealousy, jealousy to un-saneness, insanity to violence,violence to—
All he had said was that she was high in his affections, but no onespoke of such things any more. When one did, it was considered thatmore than conventional promiscuity was involved in his intentions.
He turned away abruptly and studied the dia