It all started with the phone call from Alex. No, actually it began with Katie’s birthday cake. A glutinous mass of sponge, sandwiched with whipped cream and topped with another nauseatingly thick layer of cream, decorated with sugar sprinkles and a rice-paper print of Katie clutching her favourite cuddly toy. Katie was in ecstasies, while Leah got stomachache just looking at the monstrosity. Nothing, however, compared to the genuine stomachache she suffered later, after reluctantly consuming the large slab Katie insisted on cutting for her beloved godmother.
When the phone rang, Leah was pacing the room, jiggling from one foot to another in an attempt to ease the cramping pain. At least she was back home, so she was able to slip out of the stylish trousers she had worn to the party and give her bloated stomach the space it needed. In the past, she could have eaten the cake with just an inward sigh at the factory-processed taste and a mental promise to herself to burn off the unwanted calories the next day with a good workout at the office gym. But as she grew older, so it seemed that her digestive system had become capricious, turning first against lactose, then gluten, then spicy foods, and now even getting iffy about such innocuous items as apples and sweet potatoes. Accustomed to being in charge after decades as CEO, she couldn’t believe that her own body was turning against her.
Seeing Alex’s name on the screen, Leah knew immediately that something was up. Her relationship with her daughter, while loving, was one of plans and timetables and respecting boundaries, so calling out of the blue meant something earth-shattering. ‘I have some news’, said Alex. Leah’s first reaction was one of riotous joy. She was going to be a grandmother!
Then, after she hung up, she started to think. What sort of grandmother will I be? Her friends had all been younger when they became grandparents, and had taken pride in defying the grey-haired, rocking-chair, jumper-knitting cliché. They had filled her ears with tales of visits to trampoline parks, crawling round the living room on hands and knees with their grandchildren on their backs, teaching them football out in the park. But she had already been in her forties when she had Alex, having devoted her twenties to developing groundbreaking technology and her thirties to the wild rollercoaster ride of launching her own startup. Now almost seventy, she simply wasn’t going to be up to it. She hadn’t cared about being older than the mothers of Alex’s friends. But suddenly, she discovered that she didn’t want to be an old grandmother.
It had nothing to do with vanity. She had laughed when she found her first grey hair, shrugged as the grey spread into streaks and then replaced her original chestnut colour completely. Wrinkles just showed she was a real, expressive human being, unlike those vacuous botoxed dolls. It was true that while aging male CEOs were treated with respect, she had increasingly run into ‘old biddy’ attitudes. But she had battled against being patronised her entire working life, it was nothing new.
But now aging was starting to get in her way. Her uncooperative digestion was the least of it. When Leah was younger, she had lifted heavy objects without a moment’s thought, cycled long distances in every sort of weather and worked off business stress with strenuous gym sessions. Last week, she had got down on the floor to examine the tech team’s new prototype and her knees were still throbbing. Sitting too long behind her desk stiffened her back and neck so badly that she could barely turn her head. Worst of all was the brain fog. She had always prided herself on keenly following every detail of complicated technical discussions and detecting every subtle undertone in politically sensitive business deals. These days, she sometimes realised that several minutes had gone by and she had no idea of what had been discussed. She had been secure in her ability to put in a full working day, read Alex bedtime stories (or, as she grew into a teenager, help her with maths homework) then closet herself in her study until the early hours videoconferencing with the Australian suppliers or solving crises, fall into bed to sleep like a baby and wake up energised ready to get Alex’s breakfast. Now, she collapsed into bed exhausted at the end of each day, only for sleep to elude her for hours, then escape her grasp again long before dawn.
And now she was going to be a grandmother. She pictured a little boy or girl begging for piggy-back rides, pleading to be swung round like an aeroplane, their eyes filling with tears when she declined to share their treats. She cringed at the thought of a constant refrain of ‘no dear, grandma’s too old for that’. Plus the company was in a critical phase, with crucial choices to be made about their direction in the rapidly changing world of AI. She needed to guide them through this while simultaneously fending off those who wanted to supplant her position. All of that was going to take a great deal of energy. Leah was afraid that her body simply wasn’t up to the job. So she did what she had done throughout her career when faced by problems – she went looking for a solution.
Her GP was utterly unhelpful. ‘It’s a natural process’, he said, glancing unsubtly at the time on his phone while carefully restraining himself from rolling his eyes at the banality of her complaint. What did he know, a man in his twenties who was probably under the delusion that his own youthful muscles and joints would last forever, that the aging process would make an exception just for him. The private clinics she consulted were focused on cosmetic procedures. In terms of actual health they had nothing better to offer than dubious herbal remedies and hackneyed platitudes such as ‘develop good sleep habits’, ‘drink plenty of water’ and ‘take regular exercise’. But she hadn’t spent a lifetime of networking in the tech world for nothing. A contact from her early days, when her business activities had sometimes skirted the edge of legality, put her onto a trail that led her to a company, very exclusive and discreet, with excellent references. Their focus was on what they called ‘inner age’, their elegantly styled brochure filled with testimonials from reassuringly natural-looking older people who spoke in glowing terms of how young they felt inside. Some of these clients were known to Leah, people she had always admired for their energy and joie de vivre. The cost was not even that outrageous. Certainly, it would have been out of reach for most people. But given what many of her wealthy circle spent on travel, clothes and food, as a price tag for youth restored it was an absolute bargain.
The only drawback was the lengthy vetting procedure. Leah understood that they had to carefully evaluate her physical condition and – perhaps more importantly – be certain of her own discretion. Having people posting about this process on social media would only cause resentment and protest. But as time wore on, she got impatient. The progression of Alex’s pregnancy was like a visible hourglass, the sands running away. Leah grew more and more obsessed with the treatment, frequently checking the personal app the company had given her for the latest test results, every time with her heart in her mouth that she might be rejected. She caught herself barely listening to Alex’s complaints of swollen ankles and heartburn. It’s alright for you, she thought. Yes, you’re suffering now. But this is all part of a positive change in your body that’s going to end in a baby, and afterwards you’ll be back to normal. My deterioration will only end in the grave.
She was shaken out of her complacent bubble when, at five months, Alex had a stillbirth. Leah’s heart went out to her daughter and her partner. She was in the middle of a series of complex negotiations for a potential merger but did her best to make time to spend with Alex, and of course she attended the burial. Yet, unwillingly, she also felt relief that it gave her more time. Now, perhaps, she would be already fit and energetic by the time Alex had her first child, ready to help out with the draining job of looking after a newborn.
Typically, it was not long after the tragedy that she received notification that her application had been approved. Production of the serum, completely customised and tuned to her individual health profile, had started. A nailbiting few months followed, as she tried to give full attention to her company, diligently ensuring all noses were in the same direction for the merger while leading the tech team brainstorms for the new product line and shepherding them through the development process, deftly handling both technical and personal issues. Whenever the workload threatened to overwhelm her, she kept herself going with the thought that it would soon be better, once she had regained the power of her youth.
Finally, the process was complete, and she was given a time and place to pick up the precious medicine. Given the secrecy surrounding the treatment, she wasn’t surprised that this was in the private room of an exclusive restaurant. There, she met two men in flawlessly tailored suits. They both had a youthful appearance, but from their behaviour it was clear that one was an experienced senior training up a junior apprentice. Glasses were filled with expensive champagne but Leah didn’t touch any, preferring to closely scrutinise the details of the financial transfer. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to pull a fast one. The money paid, she was handed an information booklet for the medicine, which she also carefully read. All the while though, she found it hard not to look at the matte metal coolbox on the table. Her first month’s course, the first dose standing enticingly in front of it. No gyroscopic crystal flask of glowing potion trimmed with gold accents like in the film ‘Death Becomes Her’, yet somehow the simplicity of the slender glass tube made it feel all the more real. A pleasurable tingle of anticipation started to run through her body.
Then her attention was caught by a sentence in the booklet, and she was instantly alert and businesslike. The booklet talked about ‘the compensation required to activate the serum’. ‘What is this?’, she asked, her voice sharp, tapping the sentence with her finger. The senior man crossed to her side of the table and leaned over to look, with a resigned sigh that told her he knew exactly what she was referring to and had been hoping she wouldn’t notice it. Still, he pretended to read the text, then straightened up and fiddled with his tie. ‘The compensation, yes.’ He cleared his throat, and she noticed the junior man staring at them both nervously. ‘You see’, the senior man continued, ‘the treatment we offer is effective. Very effective. You will acquire good health and consequently a significantly extended lifespan. We are of course delighted to be in a position to offer these benefits to our valued – and may I say, highly deserving – clients. Yet some sort of balance must be maintained’.
Leah’s temper started to rise. ‘Balance? I don’t want to hear marketing blurb. Be precise! What do you mean by ‘compensation’?!’. The senior man flinched slightly and stepped back. ‘To buy life’, he said, ‘money is not enough. To restore the balance you must pay with life too’. A flash of unease shot through Leah, and she glanced sideways at the door, gauging the distance to the exit. What sort of craziness was this? ‘Don’t be absurd’, she hissed. ‘What are you suggesting, I sacrifice a few animals to ‘restore the balance’?’. His gaze shifted uncomfortably and he muttered, ‘No, not animals’. She felt incredulous rage, ‘What, a human life? We’re not in some ridiculous vampire B-movie!’. After all the care she had taken, had she after all fallen in with scammers peddling mumbo-jumbo? ‘You can’t expect me to credit that I can somehow gain longer life by taking it from others? I believe in science, not voodoo’. The senior man nodded in agreement, somehow even managing to conjure up an understanding smile on his handsome face. ‘Of course you don’t believe in voodoo’, he said, holding out his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘Of course you don’t. Nor do I. This serum is developed by a thoroughly scientific procedure, and it works on that basis, nothing more is required. But’, he paused, glancing at the door, and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. ‘Our founder is not so scientific. He is, how should I put it… a little eccentric. Very eccentric. He has his beliefs about balance and compensating the natural order…and he’s the head of the company. You know, extremely rich and powerful, been top dog for years. I think you know how men like that can be…’
In spite of herself, Leah found herself nodding along. It was true, she’d come across plenty of such men, drunk by money and power, getting sucked in by crackpot theories and drifting off into their own fantasy worlds, everyone around them so scared that they played along. ‘Fine’, she said. ‘Your boss is rich and crazy. But I’m a sensible, sane person, and I’m not going to be dragged into some cult nonsense. Keep your medicine, it’s probably a load of crap anyway. You can be sure I’ll be demanding that the funds I just transferred be returned, or I will be taking legal action’. She headed for the door, shaking in fury, all her hopes crushed. Her hand on the knob, she turned back. ‘And you can be very sure that there will be no ‘compensation’ forthcoming from me’.
The junior man let out a suppressed snort of hysterical laughter. Leah glared at him, then turned to throw a contemptuous look at the other man – and was stopped short. He was looking at her sadly, the expression in his eyes almost one of grief. ‘I’m sorry’, he said, his hands spread out helplessly. ‘You don’t understand. The compensation has already been collected. That’s why we could proceed.’ An icy knot started somewhere in Leah’s throat, rushing out downwards in a cold wave, cramping her stomach, trembling her legs. It couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible… The senior man reached out as if to touch her shoulder, then thought better of it. ‘It may be hard to think of it this way, but you’re fortunate, really. An unborn baby… it’s not like losing a real family member, is it…?’.
Leah let out an inarticulate cry. The room seemed to be spinning around her. It wasn’t true, was it? They were lying, weren’t they? But on the other hand… What if it were true? Someone could easily have slipped Alex something. She knew they existed, those twisted, megalomaniac men, lord, master and even god in their own little empires, forcing others to dance to their obscene tune. She’d always sworn to never become like that. She’d driven her people hard sometimes, but then, she’d driven herself too. She’d never demanded anything of anyone that she wasn’t willing to give herself. Yes, they’d missed out on holidays, family weekends, but so had she. Her company had always been her life, and all she’d wanted was to keep on doing that…
The thought pulled her up short. All this time, she’d thought she was doing this for her daughter, for her unborn grandchild. To support Alex in motherhood, to be a good grandmother. But was that true? Or was she simply being selfish, wanting to carry on her successful career freed of the bridle of old age? The old, familiar guilt came churning up, guilt she’d felt from even before Alex was born, the impossibility of being the perfect mother and the perfect CEO at the same time. Always falling short, always disappointing someone, either her family or her company paying the price – and to be honest it had mostly been her family. You have to make some sacrifices, she’d often preached to her employees. And now, as that word ‘sacrifice’ went through her head, she didn’t know whether to laugh at the sheer absurdity, or vomit from the horror. Wildly, she rushed forward, both men cowering back against the wall. But they were not her target. She flung the coolbox against the wall and stamped on the tube. Then, blind with tears, she blundered against the door until it opened and she could finally escape, her head in turmoil. She didn’t know what to believe anymore, and that doubt would gnaw away at her for the rest of her life.
Back in the room, the two men stood up and stretched, laughing. The senior man clapped the junior on the back. ‘Great research, Tom’, he said. Tom grinned uncertainly. ‘I don’t understand, Matt’, he said. ‘I thought she was smart’. Matt grinned. ‘She is smart, you saw her checking all the details? We’d have been in trouble if she hadn’t. The whole point is to get them to refuse the treatment after they’ve paid for it, otherwise they’d find out it’s worthless and we’ll be slapped with a lawsuit’. He picked up the tube and held it mockingly up to the light. ‘The fountain of youth! They wish’. He shook his head. ‘The mothers are the best. Always so ready to feel guilty! It doesn’t matter how intelligent they are. Just give them a remotely believable scenario, just a tiny chink of doubt and they’ll be beating themselves up for being a bad mother in no time’. He pocketed the tube. Good job they’d made the new version stronger. Plenty of clients took their anger out on it and in the early days it had been a nightmare picking glass fragments out of carpets. ‘The only problem is they’re no good for giving testimonials, they don’t want to put others through the same pain. But we’ve plenty of other clients greedy enough to take the pay-off or dumb enough to think more loved ones will die if they don’t spread the word’. He crossed to the table and poured out more champagne, then held out a glass to Tom. ‘To eternal youth! Or at least, eternal wealth. For us. Cheers!’. They clinked glasses and drank deep, then sauntered out to celebrate their latest success.