[ WP ] A mortal mother , close to death , pays a visit to her immortal son .

The first thing she smelled was oranges. 
 
 It was one of the side-effects of becoming Deathless, a quirk affecting a small percentage of those treated that the scientists and doctors could n't quite explain. And as usual, he was late; another thing she'd tried and failed to teach him about. She eased herself into the e-lounge, barely suppressing a sigh of relief as the material of the couch, detecting her profile, automatically molded itself to provide maximal support for her fragile bones. 
 
 They say God made Man in his own image. If so, Man had certainly lived up to its potential. Man learned to control the weather. Man created new life, melding beings both biological and mechanical to suit His needs. Man harnessed the power of the stars themselves, wielding powers of destruction and creation that to not call them godlike would n't suffice. And three weeks ago, immortality. That golden chalice that Man has lusted after since time immemorial, the final step to godhood now defeated with an over-the-counter prescription for three pills a day, two before breakfast and one after dinner. 
 
 `` Hello, Evelyn,'' came that voice she loved and hated so well. 
 
 `` Son. You know why I'm...'' He cut her off with a wave of his left hand, a curt sign of dismissal he barely seemed to notice now. His right hand continued Sign, the minuscule muscle contractions in his fingers dutifully converted to binary by the device on his wrist and sent out to the millions of shareholders he worked for across Sol. 
 
 `` Mmhmm. Yes, that's right. 3.33 mil for ENB. Mmhmm. Hang on, I have another meeting right now.'' His full attention turned to the greying woman sitting on his couch. `` Sorry. What were you saying?'' 
 
 Could this thing, this, *machine*, still be her son? Bobby, that snot-nosed kid she rushed to the hospital to get his appendix removed. Her little Bobby, who looked forward to Sundays when his dad would take him out for ice-cream at Marble Slab ( double-scoop banana split with extra whipped cream ), a torch Bobby continued carrying on his own. Until the procedure, that is. 
 
 `` Bobby. Son. You doing ok? How's the business? All good? You know, I just read this great book by that guy in Sacramento, that Wall Street guy. I could Facebook it to you? It's a great read, `` she said, as if it was still her Bobby standing there in front of her, not Robert Merton, billionaire businessman, TIMES Man of the Year. 
 
 `` You know I've read it, Evelyn. So what is this meeting about?'' 
 
 Straight to the point then. 
 
 `` You know why I'm here.'' 
 
 `` Evelyn. We've talked about...'' 
 
 `` I've read up on it, Bobby,'' she said, trying and failing to keep the pleading from her tone. `` There's studies, solid studies, showing people having a complete remission of symptoms after stopping the meds. I'm talking complete remission. The insomnia, the anomia, even the...'' 
 
 `` No.'' Just like that. His face never changed, as if he was looking at a wall instead of the woman who raised him. No rage, no sadness, not even concern. He sat down facing her, fingers steepled in front of him. 
 
 `` Symptoms? No, Evelyn. Benefits.'' He paused to listen to a Signing reply, then continued. `` The statistical likelihood of me maintaining this business against competition increases by 67.3 % with treatments. It is the norm now to sleep less than 2.3 hours a week. I have to maintain the portfolio, Evelyn, you've got ta understand *that*. The outcome of these'symptoms', as you call them, is almost always favourable.'' He paused. 
 
 Was that confusion in his eyes? Concern? His right hand never stopped Signing. `` Why do you keep coming here to convince me otherwise, anyways? If anything I do n't see why you have n't started on it already. I mean, you're old, sure, so the treatments might have less of an effect. Is it the cost? Having a dead husband is a setback, sure, you have a financially stable son who can more than pay for your treatments. I do n't really get what's the hold up.'' Like reading off a grocery list. `` Are you alright? Can I get you a drink, coffee?'' 
 
 `` I'm dying, Bobby.'' 
 
 He looked up. Both hands were still now, his incessant flow of Signing ceasing momentarily. Then, for the first time in a long while, he smiled. 
 
 `` Excellent! All the more reason for you to start treatment, Evelyn. The benefits now far outweigh whatever stupid reservations you had about it. Heck, now that you're legally qualified, I can even set you up with that long-term investment now, the one your husband, Tom, refused. Wait, why are you crying? Is n't this good news?'' 
 
 For a moment she scanned his face, her Bobby's face, for something, anything, other than the blank, economical smile. 
 
 A few minutes later, she got up to leave, making some bullshit excuse, watched by dead eyes in the body of her son. `` Yes. Yes, you're right, Robert. It is.'' 
 
 
 [ EDIT: A sentence or two for clarity. ] 
 
 [ EDIT 2: More sentence changing ] 
 

