[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories December 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Frost tossed an avenil wrapper in the space erviser's part reducer.
"These people have found the secret of immortality," he said.
"What a romantic temperament you have," Scott replied softly. "'Thesecret of immortality,' it sounds as dated as the philosopher's stone."
"What do you mean? We're not immortal."
"No, we're not—though you may not have noticed that the last report ofthe committee for India gives the life expectancy there now as seventyyears. And because of consistently good medical care, you and I bothlook a good ten years younger than our actual chronological age."
Scott was in his early thirties: he had the trim body and resilientskin of first maturity.
"That's not immortality."
"No, of course not. That's what I'm driving at. How do we arrest agingand prolong life? With some mysterious serum, by some dark businesswith a fantastic ray? Hocus-pocus of a sort which would be theequivalent of the philosopher's stone I mentioned?
"We've increased our temporal range to the point where it's notat all unusual to meet active and alert people who've passed thecentury mark. Society has done that by a system of care which ispre-prenatal, by seeing to it that every human being grows up in thebest possible environment and receives the best possible nutrition,and by prophylactic measures of all possible sorts. In a word, we'veeliminated from human life all the stresses and strains which can beeliminated. And that's the nearest to immortality we'll ever get."
Frost raised his eyebrows. "You heard what Thor-na'thor said. How doyou account for it?"
Scott went over to the viewing plates and turned them to low power. Themass of buildings that was Tarthal leaped into visibility. "I don'taccount for it," he said, with his back to Frost. "We don't speak hislanguage very well yet; we may have misunderstood. Or he may have beenspeaking metaphorically."
"Nonsense! You heard him say, 'And you let him die?' when we weretelling him about Kynaston's burial. That wasn't metaphor. He soundeddeeply and genuinely shocked. In my opinion, Thor-na'thor was shockedbecause, here on Vardia, among his own people, no one ever dies."
Scott shrugged and did not answer for a moment. "I might believe," hewent on after a pause, "that they'd worked out therapeutic techniqueswhich are more successful than ours in prolonging life, if the Vardiansweren't obviously at a low level of scientific progress. Their vehiclesare steam-powered, and they light their buildings with carbon-filamentelectric lights. Their young men and women dabble in science, yes, butfor exactly the same reason that they take an interest in music andpainting and the dramatic arts—because it's cultural."
"Got you there!" Frost said in some triumph. He got up and began topace the cabin's length. "You're assuming that scientific advancesoccur evenly and are distributed, so to speak, on a plane. Didn't youtake any courses in the history of science?
"One of the most striking features of terrestrial science has beenits uneven development. Man knew the diameter of the earth before hewas aware of the circulation of the blood, and it was more than twohundred years after the laws of moving bodies were formulated beforethe science of psychology was born. First the physical sciences, thenbiology, and at last sociology and the psychology of the depths.
"What reason is there to think th