"Director FitzMaugham shared very little information with his
assistants, Dr. Lamarre. The suddenness of my elevation to this post
gave me little time to explore his files. Would you mind filling me in
on the background?"
"Of course." Lamarre crossed his legs and squinted myopically across
the desk at Walton. "To be brief, Mr. FitzMaugham first heard of my
work fourteen years ago. Since that time, he's supported my experiments
with private grants of his own, public appropriations whenever
possible, and lately with money supplied by Popeek. Naturally, because
of the nature of my work I've shunned publicity. I completed my final
tests last week, and was to have seen the director yesterday. But--"
"I know. I was busy going through Mr. FitzMaugham's files when you
called yesterday. I didn't have time to see anyone." Walton wished he
had checked on this man Lamarre earlier. Apparently it was a private
project of FitzMaugham's and of some importance.
"May I ask what this 'work' of yours consists of?"
"Certainly. Mr. FitzMaugham expressed a hope that someday man's life
span might be infinitely extended. I'm happy to report that I have
developed a simple technique which will provide just that." The little
man smiled in self-satisfaction. "In short," he said, "what I have
developed, in everyday terms, is immortality, Mr. Walton."