No Time to Die by Kira Peikoff Page A

the sunset, but beyond it. With the time to gain more wisdom and experience, how many individuals whose lives could be fulfilled, how many couples whose love could thrive long past a brief flash of decades, how many generations who could enjoy one another, living bridges to history and culture and art?
    A statistic came to her that she had read recently in the journal Biogerontology— worldwide, 100,000 people died of aging every day. In the industrialized world, almost 90 percent of all deaths were attributable to age.
    She thought of her mother’s grim descent into senility during her last years, and her father’s heartbreaking deterioration from a lively, youthful man to a frail skeleton before his death. How much incalculable suffering could be avoided! Yet so many people blanched when Natalie told them about her mission. They always threw out the same predictable arguments about overpopulation and strained economies. But if more healthy years were added onto life, that would mean a massive growth in global productivity, leading to inevitable increases in technology and quality of life. If history proved anything, it was that human beings were brilliant at solving complex challenges. Her research was about taking the reins of control from nature and giving it over to individuals to decide about their own lives and deaths. Ultimately, she felt, no one could make those decisions for anyone else, nor ethically have the right to do so.
    The fax machine was sputtering to a halt. She seized the warm stack of paper from the tray and leafed through it with the eagerness of a disciple holding the Holy Scripture, then ran back to her office and locked the door. She couldn’t wait to scour every detail, but first things first. On the final page she found it—Zoe’s phone number. Underneath it was her emergency contact: a Mr. Silas Gardner, whose own number happened to be a digital palindrome: (917) 333-3719. Her math-minded brain was always spotting numerical patterns like that without trying. Before she could consider his possible relation to Zoe, a knock on her door jolted her.
    Her visitor twisted the doorknob hard, but it wouldn’t budge. She jumped up, uneasy, and shoved the stack into her top desk drawer. “Who’s there?” she called.
    â€œNatalie, open up,” a familiar male voice said.
    She clicked aside the lock and opened the door. Behind Professor Adler stood Mitch. They both looked furious. Her breath caught as if on a hook in her throat.
    â€œWhat—what can I do for you?” she asked.
    â€œIs this true?” Adler demanded. “Have you gone behind Mitch’s back to pursue a project that could provoke serious legal consequences?”
    She stared from him to Mitch, who was shaking his head as if in shock at her audacity. How could they already know?
    â€œWhat? I—” She licked her lips, calculating fast. Each second that lapsed was a testament to her guilt. She had to say something. “I was fascinated by the girl’s case,” she began. “Almost no one has seen Syndrome X. I just wanted to look into it a little.”
    â€œWhat do you mean a little ?” Adler asked. “Mitch tells me the lawyers still consider her a minor, and her parents are uncooperative. Do you realize what your involvement could mean?”
    â€œYou could screw up the whole department’s reputation!” Mitch cried. “And that means mine! Why don’t you ever think of anyone besides yourself?”
    â€œFunny, I could say the same to you,” she snapped.
    â€œAll right.” Adler’s tone was irritable. “I’ll take it from here,” he said to Mitch. Natalie stepped aside as Adler walked in alone and shut the door.
    â€œLook,” he said. “Let’s be straight. I don’t have illusions about what you were doing, and I understand the draw of the case, I really do.”
    She swallowed, aware that her entire