"Okay, you've explained how you conquered the Incas a thousand times. Listen to my story and let me know if you think I belong here."

It started like every other day: with the alarm buzzing at 5:55 A.M. I rolled around a bit, fighting the alarm clock to give me just another five more minutes, and being careful not to disturb Amy when I finally succumbed to the incessant noise maker. When I got out of bed, I couldn't help but watch her for a few moments as I thought about when we made love last night. Not wanting to wake her, I had to think of baseball to get my mind to the business at hand: getting ready for work. Shaking my head in realization of how lucky I was to have her, I tiptoed to the closet to pick out the shirt, tie, sportscoat and pants for the day. I picked the grey coat that day with a lighter grey tie instead of the darker colors I normally wear. I laid that all out and went to take my shower. When I got in the shower though, It seemed that the hot water only lasted a minute. Normally I would take a leisurely shower and relax while I wake up in there. The water turned cold and I nearly jumped out of the shower. It was far from leisurely, but I was awake all right, and freezing my butt off.

The coffee pot is supposed to brew at 6:45, and when I got out of the shower, I couldn't smell it yet, so I figured I was a bit ahead of schedule. I jumped on the scale just to make sure the racquetball after work three times a week was keeping my weight in check. The scale was trying to tell me I had lost eight pounds since last check just over a week ago. That was odd, cause I'd been eating everything in sight and still wanting more. I blew it off; assuming the scale was busted, and would see what I really weighed when I got to Rose Shore Fitness tomorrow after work. I finished cleaning up, making sure my beard and moustache were an acceptable length and that I looked professional. It was only then that I noticed a grey hair in my beard. I couldn't believe it. A grey hair at twenty-six. A pair of tweezers and a brief journey through the institute of pain later, and no one would be the wiser for it.

Finally, I could smell the coffee starting to brew and went and got dressed to go enjoy breakfast with the morning Sterling News. Crime rate up, unemployment up, homelessness up, stocks down. Nothing new except for the fact that Judge Mintaros finally passed sentence for Alex Werthy. That crazy kid killed his parents, his two younger sisters, and the pet dog at the age of sixteen, and got off on the temporary insanity plea. It's sad; the schmuck should have gotten life in prison. Heck, I was thinking give him the death penalty, but then again, I didn't follow the trial close enough to be an expert on it so I put it at the back of my mind and finished my coffee.

It was still pretty early, but I grabbed my keys anyways. This just meant I'd get there a half hour early. My hand flew to my eyes as I stepped outside. It was going to be another gorgeous summer day I thought as I headed back inside to grab my Gargoyles. Everyone thought that I should wear sunglasses that were a little more conservative, like those gold Ray-Bans every other executive at the office wears, but I guess I was just trying my best to hold onto my youth. Oh well was all I'd say when someone said that to me: Oh well. The 'Vette started right up as it had every day since I bought it in 1991. It didn't look like there was a cloud in the sky, let alone the foreboding ones that bring wet presents on my head, so I put the top down to feel the wind in my hair on the way to the office.

I took the same route every day from our house in Metamora to Randall Technologies in Sterling Hills. It was the fastest route, but I enjoyed the scenery too. Metamora is beautiful at the end of summer. The trees still have all their leaves with maybe one or two starting to climb into their brighter coat of autumn colors. Add that to all the hills and abundance of water due to Lake Chakan, and you have, what I'd have called, the most beautiful city in America.

It seems I always thought about Amy on the way to work. Amy would be waking up about the time I got to work. Thursday was the late day for her flower shop to open. She'd be getting up to open the flower shop at noon and working until six. It's difficult when your wife is the head manager of the only flower shop in town. It seems they need her every day of the week. Of course, though, I'd call her on my lunch break to tell her how irresistible her sleeping form was and kid her a little bit about my thoughts of baseball this morning.

I grabbed my briefcase off the passenger seat: right where I left it when I got out of work yesterday and headed into the office. Bill Peterson, the full time door guard whom everyone can have a chuckle with gave me a hard time about suddenly going grey. I tried to hide my beard with my hand, but he had obviously seen it. I thought I plucked that sucker. I nodded and gave him my mocking "ha-ha" laugh and headed straight for the bathroom. I couldn't believe my eyes when I got there. I had more grey hairs. There must have been at least ten, and they were quite pronounced in contrast to my dark brown beard. I couldn't believe it. They weren't there a little over an hour ago. No tweezers, so there wasn't anything I could about them.

In my office, I was reading my notes on the new chemical we were using in the cryogenic storage project which I was heading up when Paul Davers walked in. Paul was the man responsible for the new chemical.

"Joe", he asked casually, "could I have a word with you?"

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Well, it's about Synthol-DE5, I think its causing some side effects we hadn't noticed before."

"What do you mean? Is it working?"

"Oh, the DE5 worked well... Too well. This morning, we found Bonzo dead. It appears he died of old age."

"What do you mean old age? He was just born over a year ago."

"That he was. Bonzo progressed from youth through maturity and old age into death in a time span of less than twenty-four hours."

"My god. How did this happen?"

"As I said, the DE5 worked a little to well. Myself and some of the other researchers are thinking that since the DE5 brings the subject out of suspension by increasing their metabolic rate with the temperature, that somehow, too much of the gas had gotten into his system, and his body continued on as if its metabolic rate were exponentially higher than it should be. In other words, his body burned itself out, which in its physical manifestation is nearly indistinguishable from the effects of aging. Bonzo may have only been a year old, but his physical appearance when we found him was that of a chimp who had reached old age."

"My God. What about the other test animals?"

"That's the thing, all the other animals we've tried the process on are fine and behaving normally."

"So , this is an isolated case, correct?" emphasizing the word correct to let him know that was what I wanted to hear and partially to quell my fear.

"We hope so, since it has only affected Bonzo so far, we think it only causes problems in rare cases, but we won't know until something else strange happens."

"Oh my---" was all I mustered as I ran past him for the closest mirror.

I had to scream as I looked in the mirror and saw my entire beard had turned grey as well as most of my hair. I looked like I was about fifty years old. I had to get out of there, get home, or something. My mind wondered how long I had to live: a week, a day, a few hours? I had to at least tell Amy I love her one last time.

I ran out the building as fast as my frail bones would carry me, driving my car as fast as I dared, making it to the flower shop in a record half hour. I burst in the door, saw the surprised look on Amy's face and that's when everything went blank. I don't remember what happened after that.

"I'm surprised I haven't died yet. I've lived the past year or so as an old man. Amy comes and sees me every couple days and tells me I look fine. The doctor that comes in with her usually brings a mirror with him to "show me how young I look" and tell me "You've still got a good sixty-five years ahead of you." Can't he see? Can't anyone see how close I hover to death? It's just a matter of time before I die."

"Yes, you are a strange one.", the man believing he was Hernando Cortes replied.

Joseph O'Connor
4/13/94