Chapter 6

“Now that you’re asking the right questions, this will probably give you much better answers than I could offer,” Folder said as he pressed a button on his armrest. A drawer beneath his seat slid open, revealing a helmet that looked like something out of a fighter jet simulator. He helped Bolden put it on and then activated the 3D projection visor.

After a quick adjustment check, Folder activated the feed, and Bolden plunged into a virtual world.

The first image that appeared before him was the Guercino painting The Guardian Angel. Bolden was sure he had seen it before, most likely in some Italian museum. It faded as another painting along the same classic theme replaced it, beginning a slideshow of paintings and sculptures that flowed through his 3D field of vision in quick succession.

The image stream accelerated to a blur, then dramatically ended, dropping Bolden back into complete darkness. He hovered there for a moment before a new image emerged around him. This time he found himself surfacing into a luxurious office with a window that offered a grand view of a cityscape he did not recognize. Turning his head and shifting his eyes changed his view of the room, and to his right he discovered a broadly expansive desk, with an elegantly groomed, familiar-looking man standing patiently behind it. He wore a sharply trimmed goatee and glasses with fine goldwire frames.

His virtual host smiled gently, as if he were waiting only for Bolden to pay attention to him, and then took his seat in a hand-tooled leather chair, leaning back with his elbows on the armrests and interweaving his fingers.

“My dear... Ian Bolden,” he began, pronouncing the name with a slight hesitation, accompanied by a barely detectable playback stammer in the digital stream. “My name is Jonathan Atalai.”

No wonder his host seemed familiar, Bolden thought, tallying up the mysterious Arab billionaire’s distinctive traits: crooked nose; long, curly black hair; that slightly curved, trademark smile. During his lifetime, the enigmatic Atalai was considered the face of a vanishing – yet still influential – Arabic petro-plutocracy.

“You are now watching a recording, because I am no longer alive,” his virtual host said. “Your name has been automatically added by the computer, and the simulation will proceed according to your reactions. I assure you that the organization you know as The Guardian Angel has been constantly learning and improving its knowledge even after my death, and that your chance to live beyond the span allotted to me has grown considerably.

“The Guardian Angel has saved your life at least once and has contacted you with an offer. If you agree to the conditions, they will save you again. I know this, because I founded this organization. Would you like to know more?”

Bolden nodded, even though he was communicating with a VR ghost. Atalai had died in an accident at one of his defense-related labs two years before. Rumor had it that the accident had something to do with a revolutionary new weapon Atalai’s engineers had just completed, that during a product demo, the weapon exploded, killing not only the billionaire, but dozens of employees and potential buyers. Insiders whispered that the Army had gotten control of a tape of the incident, but there was never any proof of the claim.

“Good,” the virtual Atalai said. “Although I can’t actually see you, just as you actually see me, let me prove how well I know you. You are around forty years of age, you are fit, everything has worked perfectly for you and you love life. And, most of all, you have a lot of money at your disposal. I didn’t need a computer to help me this time, because I was just like you when I received the Device.

“I was the fifth person to whom the Device was offered, along with its manufacturing plans, by an inventor who wished to remain anonymous. I will respect his wish, the more so since his name is not important. He said he never consulted the Device in order to find out the day of his death.”

Atalai fell silent for a moment, then continued.

“It is very complicated to undertake something when you know a certain person, who hasn’t been sentenced to death by a judge and isn’t terminally ill, is about to end his days. That is, without being able to tell him where, how and why. The other four, those before me, thought the inventor of the Device was a lunatic. That he pretended to see the future. Unfortunately, they found out too late that he had been right. I shared their skepticism, but something different happened in my case. The inventor sacrificed his life to save my own.

“Ever since I have wondered why, and I suspect I understand his motives better today after continuing his work for all these years. It was a burden to him, this Cassandra complex that comes with prophecy, just as it has been a burden to me. I suspect he was simply ready to pass on that burden to someone who could continue his work, because he knew from his Device that my life was effectively over. And so he convinced me to meet him one final time, at what he knew to be the moment of my greatest danger. And when my competitor’s hit man took his shot, it was the inventor of the Device who calmly, serenely stepped in front of the bullet.

The image trembled slightly, reminding Bolden that he was watching a recording.

“From that moment on, I have devoted myself to applying his gift, his mystery, in the world. So began The Guardian Angel, meant at first to protect only me. Later we extended the organization to some people I knew who were willing and able to pay for their protection.

“The person who contacted you has already given you the technical details. I would like to talk to you about the philosophy of this organization. It is important that you accept it, since your life depends on it.”

There was another pause, in which Atalai froze for a few seconds, with his mouth left unnaturally open.

“The Guardian Angel is one of the most profitable privately held companies in the world because it offers something no competitor can match: the chance for life beyond what fate would naturally hold in store for you.

“What gives us this right? Who or what checks and intervenes when this natural order is breached? We have no idea. Based on our experience we believe there are forces that influence the arc and extent of our lives, but we don’t pretend to truly understand them. That is for philosophers, and we are but simple businessmen.”

For Bolden, listening without being able to interrupt felt strange. Only the slight desynchronizing of the image reminded him that he was watching a recording.

“...that is how The Guardian Angel became a common property for all those who benefit from its services.”

Bolden realized that he had missed something from Atalai’s presentation.

“The contract that you will sign with us will bring you incredible benefits. For these services, The Guardian Angel will become your sole heir. This way we will always live, if not as human beings, at least as an organization. The sums of money paid by you will be used not only to protect and extend your life, but also to aid in our research to eradicate this plague – the great plague of death. It is our goal to cheat death permanently.”

Atalai pointed his finger at him, staring into his eyes. After a few moments he lowered his finger and resumed in a gentler tone: “Although we are trying to reduce operating costs, not many can benefit from the Device. What do you think would happen if everyone had their own Device and could find out when they die?”

Bolden had never thought about it that way. He didn’t care what happened with others who had found out when they were going to die. If everyone knew that, it would start a mass hysteria.

“There are people who know when the end is near. It is strange, but sensing this leads, in a very unnatural way for human beings, to resignation and acceptance of their deaths. It is like a pain that, when it appears, it also comes with a built-in anesthetic. When you get hurt, for instance, during those first moments, due to the endorphins secreted by the pituitary gland and by the nervous tissue, you don’t feel much. The ability to sense death has atrophied in the case of most people; only a few of them still have it. And the Device, just like the machines that amplify human powers, only rediscovered and artificially reproduced this ancient instinct.”

Atalai paused and took a sip out of a glass that was on his desk. The breaks in the recording seemed to have been introduced intentionally when Atalai wished to emphasize an idea; they gave the potential client time to process his words.

“You understand, of course, that spreading the Device on a large scale would do absolutely no good to humanity. On the contrary, it would hasten its destruction. People would frantically try to defend themselves from death by any means and at any cost. You already know this ... or you are about to. The scope of variables would become much too large, completely uncontrollable. The Device would become useless. The predictive margin would decrease from days to hours to minutes, obliterating our ability to intervene. So it is likely to remain, until the moment when we finally conquer death forever. “

Once again, there was a break and Atalai’s face froze, as if the monologue had exhausted him. Bolden suspected they were analyzing his reactions again.

“Sensors indicate that you are in disbelief. I have recorded a version of this – let’s call it meeting – especially for this type of reaction. You are probably thinking that, if you leave us your entire fortune we would have no interest in keeping you alive. And, most of all, what is the purpose of those payments through the contract we are proposing if, after your death, we will inherit everything anyway? That is why I have spoken to you about the philosophy of this organization. You and I have no use for all the money we have. And we have a lot of it. In exchange, we want to stay alive, at any cost.

“There is a certain tendency to restrain ourselves when talking about death. It is a typically human hypocrisy. As strange as it may seem, death is a part of life. But no one would feel like living if they knew precisely when life ends. There is no such thing as a pleasant death. Not even the one through euthanasia. We are bound to defend ourselves from death, to try and cheat it as much as we can. You must understand: out of all the people in the world, only you and a select few others can pay to live longer than you were meant to. Among them, there are also people who don’t have a fortune, but who can pay in a different currency: power. We call them politicians. All of them share a common desire to live.

“When I made this recording only fifteen people had joined me. Now you, too, are being offered the chance to become a part of The Guardian Angel. Think about it! Out of all the people on Earth, you are among those who can buy some extra life. Not too much, and we don’t know for how long, but any instant won in the face of death is a victory. A triumph! And when you leave this world, you will do it with the thought that you have left behind the possibility that, one day, The Guardian Angel could defeat life’s biggest enemy, also thanks to you.”

Atalai lifted up his eyes, looked towards the ceiling, and spread his arms in a fit of infectious and convincing enthusiasm. He looked like a cross. After the moment of euphoria passed, he became serious once again:

“For reasons that have been or will be explained, you will never know who the other owners and beneficiaries of The Guardian Angel are. They won’t know about you either. I think I have made myself clear as to why we need your money. That is if you don’t prefer to spend it on the eternal life offered by religions, in case you believe in such things, or on some charities that will spend it on rescuing nature or something of the sort. I would rather you joined us, although you will quickly realize that the luxury of staying alive when you should no longer be alive is more expensive than it may seem.”

The recording ended; a bright light filled his field of vision and then disappeared. Bolden remained awhile with the helmet on, with white circles of light dancing in his eyes. Eventually he reached the helmet with his hands and the colonel helped him take it off.

“Interesting?” Folder asked after placing the helmet back under the seat.

“You haven’t seen this?”

“No, this recording is only for clients. I know that it’s personalized and the creator of The Guardian Angels speaks, but other than that, I don’t know a thing. We’re a rather compartmentalized organization.”

“But haven’t others you have contacted told you?” Bolden asked. “Even if you haven’t seen the recording, someone must have told you.”

“I am afraid you still don’t quite get it. You are my first and only client.”