The Pendasyde Solution

One of the most interesting things about science fiction and fantasy is the way that the genres can offer different perspectives on matters to do with the body, the mind, medical technology, and the way we live our lives.

[Tansy Rayner Roberts]

Chapter 1.

A Question of Presence

EUSTACE FLYE LEANED forward in a visitor’s chair. You cannot fully comprehend the meaning of the word ‘rape’ until it happens to you. It’s impossible to imagine the invasiveness of a cold, calculated, strange body, male or female, upon your own. Do you blame me for what I did?

She faced her old college friend and watched while he signed a receipt for the funds she had transferred to his company. He scrawled Paid in full on the bottom of the page; the top of which had in bold print Eternal Slumber by Pendasyde. 

He handed her the paper, "No, Eustace, I never blamed you. Then or now. You were the victim of a crime, and the dissertation you wrote for your PhD may have helped improve your grade point average.  More important, it was instrumental in bringing the perpetrator to justice. No. Who can possibly blame you for what you did? He raped you.

He was held accountable for his crime, and he received the reward for his actions. He paid the ultimate price and was dehumanized to nothing but a few traces of atmospheric dust. Our system has many weaknesses; however, in some instances, we’ve made new strides in making criminals think twice before committing a crime. We’ve come a long way during the last 100 years. The hammer of justice falls more swiftly now than it did eons ago. No more trials by jury, no lengthy court cases to keep the attorneys, and goodness knows how many other people, involved for years in cases that are now disposed of in a matter of a few hours.

She stood. Thank you, Malachi. Pendasyde has done me a great favor. I shall have my husband with me now, every day until I die. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, and now I must go. I’m expected at the showroom. They assure me the strong box for my husband’s cylinder is ready for pick up.

Malachi Fripp came from behind his desk and walked with his friend to the office door. The time has sped by since our college days, Eustace. I wish we could have met under circumstances other than Harry’s demise. Please call me if there’s anything else I can do.

Eustace raised her hand in farewell, turned and walked out of sight, but not before Fripp noticed a pearl of moisture begin its descent from her eyes toward her chin.

How well he remembered the beginning of his career.

Memories rushed into his mind like a high-speed dream train. No sound, no color, simply black-and-white graphic images in pure clarity. 

MALACHI FRIPP STOOD in the center of an archway. The starched collar of his lab coat pressed cold against his neck. Facing him, seven shiny metal tables held the naked remains of people he’d never met. An icy tingle crawled up his back and an involuntary shudder forewarned him of what was to come.

He remembered that scene very well. It happened when he attended his first embalming session. The year was 2512, and he had met a girl whose first name was Tenshun.  She was from the Wide Planet and would become his love mate. Three years later, Fripp graduated from college with honors. Two weeks following, he received his mortician’s license.

THE ISSUE BOTHERING him now was how did the three-dimensional remains of Clementine Poppy vanish from a see-through and impregnable container the size of a jam jar?

Malachi tried to explain his unique situation to Petronius Poppy, the husband of the decedent. "More than a century ago, we placed the embalmed remains in a casket made of wood or metal. Or, placed their cremains in an urn with a tightfitting lid. 

"We’re much more advanced now. When the remains of our loved ones are reduced to approximately three inches in length, we seal them inside a cylindrical container. We’ve learned how to make them hover in the center of the container, and they’re fully clothed. They look much like they did in life.

The cylinder is permanently sealed; it’s virtually impossible to gain entry to the interior of the vessel without causing major irreparable damage.

Petronius Poppy’s milk-white eyes showed almost no movement. The center of each eye was a light gray, a shade lighter than the rest of the white surrounding it. Both eyes tracked Fripp’s slightest movement.

It was difficult to imagine Mr. Poppy was only 163 years of age. His voice still carried the timbre of youth when he spoke.

I understand what you say, Mr. Fripp. You haven’t told me anything I don’t already know. How did my dead wife’s body escape the cylinder without leaving any evidence of how it was done? All I’m left with now is an empty jar on an ebony stand atop my communications console. Every time I look at the empty cylinder my heart breaks all over again because my wife is gone.

Mr. Poppy looked at his hands, took a deep breath, and exhaled quietly. His chest again bulged with a deeper breath, and he spoke in a louder voice. I want my Clementine back, Mr. Fripp. And I want her back now.

Malachi eased back in his chair. "I understand your frustration, Mr. Poppy. I met with our reduction team early this morning, and there’s absolutely no way the remains of your wife could have been removed from the capsule. I’ve also scheduled a meeting with the Citizen’s Safety department. I have scheduled a chat with Detective Clapp. He’s coming to see me the day after tomorrow. He’ll determine if any laws have been broken.

That’s about all I can do at this point, Mr. Poppy. I promise to let you know as soon as I learn anything more about the disappearance of your wife’s remains. 

The white-eyed man stood. "And I promise you, Mr. Fripp, that if I don’t have my wife back in seventy-two hours, I shall visit my legal advisor. Good day, sir."

Chapter 2.

Elements

MALACHI HELD A PENDASYDE funerary container in his hands. It had never held the remains of a deceased person. He turned the cylinder slowly and asked himself, How could a body escape from this?

A single loud knock on his office door startled him.

Come in.

The door eased open, and DeSoto Billy Baldwin said, Good morning, boss. I brought coffee and a dozen doughnuts.

You know, for a young fellow with hopes of advancing quickly at Pendasyde, you’re learning how to get people to really like you, Billy. I’m ready for coffee, and I’m always in the mood for doughnuts.

Billy’s freshly shaved cheeks went rosy. I turned thirty last week. That’s not so young.

"Never mind, Billy.  C’mon in and make yourself comfortable.

We need to talk about something important."

My possible wedding? Whoa. I still haven’t made up my mind. I’m not sure if I’d make a good husband.

Pendasyde’s founder blew across the surface of his coffee. "That’s not the urgent matter I’m concerned with. But now that you mention it, Billy, marriage is a very serious issue.  You must consider your options carefully. Oh, it’s easy enough to get a marriage license, but when the appointed day arrives, you’re both required to make oral AND written vows. And when you sign on the dotted line, the contract becomes ironclad. 

"We live in ever-changing times. And I’ve welcomed many lifestyle concepts. However, you and your intended spouse need to give marriage serious consideration.

"Should either of you choose to withdraw from your marital vows, the only way out is by euthanasia. 

The true test is that when you decide to spend the rest of your lives with a mate, it’s a permanent decision. And you must remember that it’s forever, or else.

The young man stared into his coffee container, nodded his head, and said, Perhaps we’d better give the whole process more thought. After all, there’s no need to rush into it, is there?

Malachi winked. It’s your call, my boy. Now, let’s get down to business. I’m meeting with a detective tomorrow, and I want to review what I know about Mr. Poppy’s agreement with our company. You are aware that the remains of his deceased wife have vanished, and he’s left with an empty capsule?

Yes. But that’s impossible, isn’t it? How can somebody remove the reduced remains of a deceased person without damaging the container at all? Impossible, right?

"Let’s backtrack, Billy. Mrs. Poppy was 159 when she passed away. Her corpse came here, by our own transport, directly from the MedHouse. 

"Our reduction team began work on her within an hour of her arrival. Seven hours later, she’d been reduced in size to approximately three inches in length, and was dressed in her favorite outfit, a pant suit she bought about a hundred years ago.

The reduction team filed the necessary documents at the courthouse via DataPak and delivered her container to you in the viewing and removal room. When you signed for it, did you notice anything wrong?

Nothing seemed unusual. Like every other deceased we display, her miniaturized form hovered in the middle of that clear capsule. I checked it. No matter how I turned it, upside down or sideways, Mrs. Poppy always stayed face up and smack dab in the center.

Did you notice anything unusual about the capsule’s structure?  No hairline cracks, no hissing noise, no moisture on it?

Oh, it was fine. I showed it to Mr. Poppy, and when he signed for it, I placed the capsule in a velvet pouch, and boxed it with an ebony stand. Just like Mr. Poppy ordered. One thing was unusual though, about the pickup, I mean, not the capsule itself.

What was that? What was unusual?

He asked if the cylinder would shatter if dropped on a hard surface. Nobody’s asked me that before. 

Hmm. Since he attended one of our pre-reduction lectures, that is an odd question. Capsule strength and stability is well documented in class. Did he ask about anything else?

No.

Malachi made a note on his DataPak. Thank you, Billy, for the coffee and doughnuts, and for your report about Mr. and Mrs. Poppy. I don’t have much to tell the detective, but at least I have something. 

His VisiPak flashed and the image of his wife appeared. Get to work now, Billy. Tenshun is calling. Malachi waited for the door to click shut. Hello, Ten, what’s up? Everything okay?

Hi, Mikey. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just killing time between classes. My students aren’t scheduled to arrive for another fifteen minutes and I was wondering how you’re making out with the disappearing Poppy?

"I just spoke with Billy, and so far, it appears we did nothing wrong, and Mrs. Poppy was safely sealed in her capsule when Mr. Poppy removed it from our premises. 

I’m envious of you and your job, Ten. You made a good choice, going with the Institute of Learning instead of taking that corporate job.

You’re right, honey. This is much more fun. This morning, one of our undergrads was rushed to the MedHouse, and you won’t believe why.

Why? I probably won’t believe it anyway.

"He felt the urge to empty his bladder, and while he stood in front of the ElimaVak, he positioned his you-know-what too close to the vacuum portal. Somebody had removed the little protective screen, and you can imagine what happened next. 

Maintenance had to cut power to the entire system to free his groin pointer from the urinal. The poor guy is glad to gain a few extra inches, but he’s hurting bad and said it’ll be a while before he stops walking funny. 

Fripp tried to not laugh aloud but failed. All in a day’s work, honey. I need to get to work on some stuff in a minute, but not until I ask what you’d like to have for dinner tonight? Are you in the mood for chowder? I’ve been dreaming of large bowls of seafood chowder. What do you say, would you like me to order a hearty chowder for tonight’s meal?

Marvelous idea, honey. And order some hard bread too. I’ll be home at the usual time. Bye for now. Love you, dear.

Love you more, Fripp said and disconnected. 

Chapter 3.

All is not as it Appears

A SMALL SCREEN ON FRIPP’S desk came to life, and a message appeared. It was from Pendasyde’s receptionist. Two visitors to see you, sir. One is Detective Euripides Clapp, and the other is his android, Winchester. Shall I send them in?

Malachi made it to the door just as it opened.  The huge physique of a giant person startled him. He looked up to see the face of his visitor. Detective Clapp? I’m very pleased to meet you. Come in. 

The giant’s lips parted in a wide smile and he shook his head slowly, from left to right, and with the index finger of one monstrous hand, pointed down.

Hello to you, sir, Fripp said. 

And the same to you. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Euripides Clapp, officially called Detective Clapp, and this is Winchester, my android. 

The voice of the five-foot four-inch tall detective carried authority. His head came to the level of Fripp’s shoulders. 

Malachi shook hands with the lawman. Detective Clapp wore a smartly tailored blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. Fripp liked the sound of the policeman’s voice; a pleasant, deep baritone. 

Winchester took a seat by the office door, placed his hands on his knees, stared straight ahead, and went stone silent.

Fripp invited the detective to take a seat, and motioned toward his office couch. Both sat, and the detective spoke first. Since you and I discussed this case a few days ago, I spoke with each person on your reduction team. I also interviewed your receptionist, and checked your company’s records with our government officials. All as a matter of procedure, I assure you.  I’m sure you understand?

"Of course. Please call me Malachi. I have nothing to hide, and you’re free to do as you wish. I’m pleased you’re here. I’ll give you a tour of our operation. 

"We are a small corporation. I’m the founder of the business, and my wife is the brains behind the entire reduction process.  Her name is Tenshun, and she’s a professor at the Institute of Learning. 

"Tenshun is one of the pioneers who created the process. She holds several of the original patents. I guess you could say we are the industry’s first to offer the reduction process to the public. 

"We opened up shop at about the same time the government banned the use of cemeteries.

"We have a few competitors. And it’s my belief that they’re reputable. People continue to die; our deceased’s average age is around 170. There’s plenty of business to go around. 

OH, forgive me. May I offer you some coffee? A doughnut, perhaps?

No, thank you. I’m wondering, how did you happen to come up with the name Pendasyde? Why not call your operation Fripp and Company, or some such?

"Easy answer. My wife and another scientist worked on the first successful reduction specimen. Consequently, when it came time to name the process, they merged