Not As Old As I Used To Be

Present (Day of Final Assignment)

We spent most of the morning painstakingly eliminating the redundant ‘me’s’ from linear existence before I finally collapsed onto the reclining chair in the back room. While the entire process took nearly four hours the good professor never once gave me any preconceived ridicule.

And for that I was grateful.

However, I wasn’t his best student and I never pretended to live up to any expectations he had of his top four percent of intellectual kid-whizzes. They were in an elite group that kept all to themselves and frequently made the other ninety-six percent of Professor Gordof’s “Lessons in Temporal Mechanics” class seem like fifty year -old computers trying to run the latest Windows 2360. They were younger, smarter and super eager to please — and at one time I may have been at least one of these — but now that I recently past my fortieth birthday I can’t recall with certainty when that might have been. Perhaps when I was nineteen like the genius group huddled together in the front center of lecture hall 405.

Envy isn’t something that’s settled well with me since I returned to school in an attempt to reeducate myself to expand my role at Verta Dynamics, the company in which I am employed. My graduation date from my supplemental education now lay twenty years in the past and I still have to wonder if I learned at the same rate with as much voracity as these young Einsteins. They appear to merely soak everything in as it as hosed out from either the computer pads or from the professor’s droning speeches.

I’ve often wondered too if perhaps there has been some underground genetic enhancements that I wasn’t privy to. Which would explain a lot, since I’ve lately been reading fact articles about paradoxes and time bubbles that leave my head aching from fatigue and exhaustion.

Or perhaps, like technology or wine intelligence improves with the passage of time.

If it has, I’m not complaining. I suppose if the human race becomes smarter with each passing generation we will eventually evolve into a different state of being where intelligence isn’t measured by scores or aptitude. It’s a time I would relish, but for now I have to sit back and ponder the idea of being replaced by one of these young whizzes. And quite frankly, at this point in my life it’s a little frightening.

* * *

I waited impatiently in the anterior room to the main laboratory where I lay sprawled end to end over the recliner as I stared up at the ceiling. The morning’s events repeated through my mind. My calculations had been perfect. Irrefutable, according to the countless hours of research I invested and basic scientific methodology I followed that has never failed over hundreds of years.

Until now — Until I failed and nearly created an irreparable paradox which would have destroyed the entire space-time continuum. I tried to fathom it from a larger perspective, but it only made my head spin from the thought of everyone I knew gone from existence. Everyone from all time and everything.

Nothingness.

The hardest of all theories and ideas to understand, but it all could have happened and I would have been to blame. Fortunately, certain fail-safes had been in place. Also, I owe a lot to Professor Gordof, who happens to be one of the most well-known scientists for time-travel applications and theoretical data. If he had not been there to aid me in repairing the damage I had done, all would have been lost...

I visualized the happenings in my head once more. It was painful to do, but there had to be an explanation for my failure. Something I overlooked. The answer lay somewhere in my mind, but the key was to find it, even though it was too late at this juncture. At least I could give an explanation as to my failure and walk away with some integrity tucked away in my disposition paperwork from the university. But one undeniable fact still remained:

I was now washed out.

I can still recall Professor Gordof’s words with crystal-clear clarity when he spoke them six weeks ago...

Past (The Assignment)

“This will account for sixty percent of your cumulative grade,” Professor Gordof announced while he scrawled the words: TEMPORAL MECHANICS FINAL ASSIGNMENT in large block letters at the top of the board. An uncomfortable wave rushed over the hundred or more students seated behind him.

He went on completely oblivious to their reaction.

“A theory must first be decided upon by the end of the week. You can work in groups up to six or you may choose to work individually. However, if you work in groups you all must participate in the final demonstration and provide a detailed list of your contributions. After you decide upon a theory — and the variation and topic of choice is yours to decide — you will research and provide the data necessary to apply your theory for a positive resolution.

“Now... this is where it gets tricky. The idea you come up with can be an easy one if you want. Say for instance, you want to travel to the past and research the early Cretaceous period for a comparison with life today. Which isn’t a bad idea so long as you all don’t use it.

“Or you can theorize on other areas such as improving time travel. These areas of study are much more complex and also dangerous. If you do decide to undergo one of them I must point out that all rules and regulations regarding time travel must be adhered to at all times, and under no circumstances shall they be ignored or violated. If you choose a topic that scientists have already studied and thus far regarded as too dangerous to test you must use extreme caution in which direction you choose to go. For instance if —”

“Excuse me,” a voice from up front interrupted. I studied everyone’s heads turning in the direction of the whizz-kids seated together. The one in the middle appeared to be the center of attention and he continued with a smug grin. “Sorry to interrupt. We’ve selected a topic and would like your opinion if it is acceptable. And also so no one else tries to use the same idea.”

Professor Gordof smiled and waved his hand for him to reveal his idea. “Continue, Mr. Breighton. I await your idea with utmost anticipation.”

The young Mr. Breighton turned to his companions for their support then went on. “So far time travel has been limited to viewing and interaction. One can move forward or back, but unfortunately one of the most important problems still remains after more than a hundred years of research: the ability to move objects other than ourselves to or from the past. We have already begun formulating a hypothesis and area of study to test our theory. We believe we may be able to succeed where others have failed.”

“That would be quite remarkable, Mr. Breighton, I must say,” the professor admitted. He rubbed his forehead contemplating his idea and seemed somewhat bothered by it. “However, there have been proven reasons why the Advanced Particle Accelerator cannot move objects that are non-biological. Intertwining both human matter and non-living matter has always resulted in disaster. I’m afraid you may be in for disappointment.”

The faces of the young kid-whizzes didn’t falter and the professor nodded again. “But, I suppose if you adhere to all guidelines and regulations there shouldn’t be any reason why you can’t. I’ll grant your theory, Mr. Breighton. You and your group may continue, and since you’ve chosen such a narrow field of study I will ask that the rest of the class not use the same idea. Mr. Breighton has made a good point and I shall respect it.”

The faces angled towards the group of kid-whizzes recoiled away in contempt. Not that they all wanted to use the same idea but because of the audacity of them to announce it right in front of everyone so they could gloat and hoard the idea all to themselves as if they invented it.

The professor hadn’t even finished speaking! — It was ridiculous.

Now I was starting to feel a little ridiculous. I was better than this. I was older, more mature. I didn’t need to let them break my spirit and bring me down to their level.

Professor Gordof announced the end of class and everyone folded up their books and computer pads and headed down the aisles for their next class. Most of them were still in their youth; nineteen or twenty. But there were some my age here as well. Only five or six at most.

I incidentally saw one of my own age generation’s current grade standings on professor Gordof’s computer a couple of days ago and discovered he was receiving a failing grade. I then wondered if they all were. I knew mine hadn’t been exceedingly exceptional of late, but there were complications at home and at work to worry about, besides my reeducation.

My thoughts turned to my wife and how I had alienated her the past few days. It was frustration on my part, and I pushed her away. Work wasn’t going so well now that I switched to a later shift to include my morning classes. I was slipping occasionally, making mistakes that others had to correct. Five years ago this kind of behavior from me would have been unheard of.

I packed up my gear; my computer pad and my Temporal Mechanics textbook written by Arthur C. Mcdonald and stuffed them both inside my briefcase. I was the only one in the class that carried a briefcase, even the older students my age carried book bags. I thought the other older students looked absurd carrying them and I absolutely protested buying one. That was where I drew the line. If I looked out of place toting a briefcase to class, so be it. I had no intention of conforming.

My left foot touched floor level and surprisingly Professor Gordof was there to greet me. He held up his hand for me to stop. “A moment, Mr. Lawrence,” he said and he had my complete attention. He led me away from the departing crowd and I listened with intense curiosity. I had no idea what he needed me for. Perhaps my wife was unable to contact me by my personal communicator and she contacted the school directly. I wondered if there had been some emergency...

“This is a perfect opportunity for you, I believe.” He spoke fine English but his Russian accent was still apparent. “Your grades have dropped lately, for what reason I do not know. You started this class with a lot of ambition I don’t normally see from my older students. Usually it’s from the younger ones.”

He nodded to where the kid-whizzes recently sat. I felt a large uncomfortable hole in my stomach and I wished it to go away. I knew what he was going to tell me next.

“You’re currently failing this class, Mr. Lawrence,” he continued. “Which puzzles me greatly. A good number of your essays are littered with insight and reasoning. I admire your approach to time travel . I wish I had more students with your level of understanding. The younger students sometimes lack that which comes only from experience and maturity. But I’m afraid it’s the quizzes and tests that have troubled you. Which brings me to my next point.”

My attention held strong to his next words.

“This assignment is sixty percent of your grade. And I must say it’s a pass or fail situation for you. There are other students here who have already failed no matter how impressive their final assignment turns out to be. I don’t have the time or need to tell all of them. Besides, it would be a waste of time.

“You however, are in a unique situation. I feel compelled to inform you. You see I have over one hundred and twenty students in all. And about ten percent didn’t show up to class today, judging by the empty seats. They don’t know the assignment even exists yet. Then there are another twenty percent that will fail for sure. You’re somewhere above them but not by much.

“Which is why I must stress the importance of this assignment. I’m sure at least a dozen will use the very same idea I used as an example, the one about the Cretaceous period. And sorry to say, the best they can hope for is a mediocre grade.”

I was beginning to see where he was going with this.

“You should seize this opportunity, Mr. Lawrence,” he said with emphasis. “Your topic will be a huge deciding factor in your grade. A mediocre study will not be enough for you. You must choose something important. Something like traveling into the past for study of a certain period might be enough depending on what approach you take, but I would probably lean toward something directly related to improving time travel or its usage. This will increase your chances of a passing grade. Whether or not your theory is correct in the final demonstration won’t weigh as heavy as the choice of your topic. After all, you can hardly fail at something if there is never an opportunity for it.”

“So if my theory is unique like, Mr. Breighton’s and it still fails in the end I may end up with a better grade than if I chose an easier topic?”

“Quite possibly,” he answered. “If you do a superb job with a simple topic I will grade it accordingly and you could get a high enough grade to still pass this class. However, if you choose something that has consequences such as failure, I will weigh it even more heavily. I know you are capable of choosing something that will spark my interest. So good luck to you, Mr. Lawrence. I look forward to reading your theory proposal on Friday.”

He turned and headed for his desk in the far corner where his belongings were. He gave me a lot to think about and I was now even more worried about the topic I had to decide upon in just a few days.

Present Past (Earlier This Morning / Day of Final Assignment)

Six weeks later I found myself standing before the Advanced Particle Accelerator in the science laboratory with my computer pad in my left hand with my notes displayed — all six hundred terabytes of data collected and compiled from night after night of late night study. Professor Gordof had narrowed down his top five favorite choices to go last.

It was now my turn and then finally Mr. Breighton and his Geek Squad. I hesitated in front of the resonance chamber like a boy resisting a shower before bedtime. I wanted to leave the lab at once.

I feared something. Failure perhaps, but it seemed like more.

Over one hundred sets of eyes were watching me now either physically present or on their monitors back in the lecture hall. I knew what I had to do and I stepped inside, my feet resting on the mesh grill below and waited for Professor Gordof to activate the prearranged sequence I provided him with.

I closed my eyes in anticipation.

I didn’t have to — that is, it’s not a requirement or anything to travel through time. But it helped ease my nerves and bring a moment of clarity I hadn’t experienced all week. Since Monday on this last week before the final presentation I nearly suffered a breakdown trying to bring everything together. I nearly put a stop to what I had been working hard for during the last five weeks since starting this assignment.

It took a lot of encouragement from my wife to keep me going and even then I nearly gave up. My real source of determination came from another person that I know quite well. A person that I couldn’t say no to because I knew him as well as myself.

Future Past I (First Stop)

When I opened my eyes I was standing naked in my bedroom.

I saw my reflection staring back at me from the wall mirror on the opposite side of the room. I thought about my clothes back in the particle accelerator and wondered if I would materialize back into them as planned when this was all over. If timing was right I should reappear just at the moment I left so there would be no need to redress or for over a hundred of my classmates to see me as I stood now.

I smiled at the thought of Professor Gordof entering the wrong return vector and all those students snickering and pointing like adolescents while I stepped out nonchalantly with none of my garments. I smiled now, but but perhaps I wouldn’t if it actually happened to me.

No, definitely not.

I recognized the time and date displayed on my bedside table:

12:30 PM May 2, 2360

As I finished with the last button at the top of my shirt the bedroom door opened and a familiar face appeared.

“You’re right on time,” I said entering the bedroom.

“Of course,” I answered tucking in my shirt. I choose one from the back of the closet I don’t normally use. My past double entered and stared at me and I thought back to when I lived these events the first time. It was strange seeing this happen from this perspective; from both perspectives to be more precise. “This is my first stop, you know. I’ve got all of them timed perfectly.”

“I know,” I answered my future self. I noticed the choice of shirt he took from the closet. “So I won’t miss it while you’re wearing it?”

“Right,” I answered. “I think there’s someone at the door.”

“Who?” My past self asked and I started for the door. “Roger Cartwright. One of the older students from class.”

“Why is he coming here?”

“He’s going to ask you something. And you’re going to say ‘yes’.”

We both crossed the living room together and I (the future me) reached for the door knob. Before I turned it the door bell rang and I saw one of my classmates through the pane-glass window. When I opened it, my past self seemed surprised to see him — but only momentarily. Surely he — I mean ‘I’ — realized occurrences like this would happen once things were set in motion.

The man on my front porch had turned his back from the door as if he had decided against meeting me. He was startled to find someone answer the door so quickly, and he stood still like a deer caught by oncoming high beams.

“Mr. Cartwright,” I said pushing the outer glass door open and my past ‘me’ watched from over my shoulder.

“Sorry to bother you at home,” he began. “We’ve never actually been introduced, but I wanted to see you about something.”

“I know,” I answered. I pushed the door open a little more so he could see my double standing behind me. I noticed the same confusion on his face as my double’s. Time travel seemed to always have that effect, no matter how many times it was done. “My final assignment. This is my first stop, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Oh,” Roger Cartwright said. He still seemed puzzled. “Call me Roger.”

“Roger,” I said. “Then you must call me Dave. Since I’m here from the future then you know that I already know what you’re going to ask me, right?”

He nodded and he appeared ashamed.

“You’re going to ask me to sabotage Mr. Breighton and his Geek Squad’s final project, am I correct?”

This time he didn’t flinch and he nodded again.

“They are setting the standards too high for this class,” he persuaded. “Professor Gordof will base his entire point structure on their performance. But if we were to —”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” I corrected. “There won’t be any ‘we’. It will be ‘me’. I know because I’ve already seen it. But the answer to your question is ‘yes’. I will sabotage their final assignment. We both know I’m the only one that could possibly manage it.”

He still appeared ashamed and now he apparently had nothing more to say. I remembered as much from our first encounter.

“Well,” he said and he eyed my past self behind me nervously, “good luck. And good luck on your final assignment.”

“And to you.” There was an echo behind me.

“Sabotage?” I asked when my future ‘me’ closed the door. “My final assignment must not finish well.”

“I can’t say,” I answered myself. “I’m not from past those events. But I guess you already know that. Why am I bothering to mention it?”

“Do I do it? Sabotage their assignment?”

“Let’s not worry about that and try and concentrate on why I’m really here. I take it the Temporal Aperture Scanner is where I usually keep it?”

We headed for the basement to start our prearranged work. This was our first encounter, and seeing the events from this side seemed strange, almost dreamlike. I took the readings from myself and the past ‘me’ and let the TAS compile the data. I noticed an uncomfortable stare from my other self.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” I told myself. “You’re thinking ‘how could I result to this kind of behavior’? ‘Where are my morals’, right? The answer is: Roger is dead on. Professor Gordof will judge the rest of the class on how outstanding Mr. Breighton’s final assignment goes and the rest of the class will suffer. I — We will suffer.”

“I just didn’t think it would come to this.” My past self rubbed his temples in frustration and I seemed to feel it too.

“Neither did I,” I answered. “But if you want to keep our job it’s what must be done.”

He didn’t argue and I checked the time. Thirty seconds until next phase. I had all the data I needed and was ready for my next encounter. I watched myself until I eventually phased into the next cycle. I remembered that expression I saw.

I wondered if I still shared it.

Future Past II (Last Stop)

This was number twelve.

Most importantly it was my final phase through time before the end of my final assignment. If you wanted to take it yet a step further it was the moment my future teetered over two possibilities. One: success, for which I predict only a twenty percent likelihood, or Two: failure. I have seen both in abundance over the course of my life and if it is failure that awaits me then I will accept it.

However, there was another matter to attend to.

The numbers 119 were stamped above the door I stood before at the school. This particular classroom was not used and I tried the handle, knowing it would be free. An acrid, familiar smell drifted out and I tried not to inhale too deeply. I recognized a few of the combined odors from my childhood. Sulfur, magnesium, chloride. This was a chemistry lab, an ancient one at that.

I remember my first chemistry teacher instructing us on proper technique when smelling projects. The term was ‘wafting’, where you brought the air to your nose by waving your hand to your face so as not to inhale too deeply or too much. Right now I wished that were a possibility.

When the door swung completely open I saw the only person in the archaic lab seated on a bar stool at a wash table. He was busy examining a computer notepad.

“Hello, again,” I said and he turned. It was my present self almost ready to step into the particle accelerator to get this project rolling. I checked the time and I saw my double do the same. About eight minutes remained. I had arrived exactly ten minutes before I was to begin my final assignment.

“How’s the assignment going?” My present self asked me.

When I reached him I took the computer pad and quickly reread a few of my notes.

“Everything is going as planned. I take it you found the key?” He handed it to me. “I need you to do something.”

“I know,” my double admitted. “You want me to sabotage their assignment. Gladly.”

“Not exactly,” I stated. He turned startled. But he was even more surprised to find my right fist crossing his left cheek. He stumbled off the bar stool and fell to the floor. I didn’t see him get up and I felt immediate pain in the same place on my face. I bet it felt worse for him. He was knocked out cold. “Not exactly.”

I left him where he lay and locked him in the room with the key. A few minutes later I was in the laboratory standing before the Advanced Particle Accelerator. It was my turn to go. Again. I stepped inside and tried to find that clarity... but it never came. This time I left my eyes open. Bluish light exploded from everywhere and I was back where I came from. The mesh grill lay under my feet and the cold metal cylindrical walls surrounded me. Professor Gordof ordered me out at once.

When I was clear of the particle accelerator I saw why he had been so hasty.

“I think we have a problem, Mr. Lawrence,” he said.

Another ‘me’ was standing beside the professor. I looked closer to his left cheek but I didn’t find any blemish I had inflicted. He was me in every detail except he had different clothing on. Something I wore on Monday, if I remember correctly. I still had on the shirt I picked from the back of the closet.

“What is going on?” He/I said at the same time. This left an eerie echo that troubled Professor Gordof.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Only one at a time, please. It seems your plan hasn’t gone exactly as you predicted, has it?”

Me and my double looked at each other and shook our heads. About ten other students were present in the room, not counting the other eighty or ninety back in the lecture hall upstairs. I didn’t know what to say. This was not supposed to happen.

“Age is what it is,” he simplified. “That you cannot change.”

I was about to say something in response when another ‘me’ stepped from the particle accelerator’s main chamber. He shut the hatch and joined our triad. Before myself or my other self or Professor Gordof had a chance to react another ‘me’ appeared between us and we stepped back in reaction. There were now four ‘me’s’ in the room. The other students were shouting now and telling me ‘nice job’ and ‘good work’ and so on. I tried to ignore them.

I had been out of the main chamber for almost a full minute now and three more appeared before us. Their sudden appearances started to become more frequent and in greater numbers. They were doubling now and the room was beginning to fill. The other students left in a hurry not wanting anything to do with my disaster, and we were alone now. Just the professor and I. Well, the professor and I and all of my ‘me’s’. Two more stepped out of the particle accelerator and the professor finally reacted.

“We have to contain fractal cohesion!” he shouted. I pushed my way through the dozens of my mirror images until I was seated beside Professor Gordof at the main computer control station. He immediately went to work and I aided like a nurse. I tried to count my doubles but I lost track after fifty. They were now appearing so frequently I had to start over after reaching five.

“I’ve located the quantum singularity,” I provided. My eyes fixed upon the reading displayed and I held my breath. “My God!”

Space and time were folding together. I couldn’t see it but there was an awareness of it. My greatest fear was about to happen. Every traveler through time made the security of the timeline and existence a priority above all else. Somehow my experiment had failed. Professor Gordof was right.

I began to see the hopelessness before us as I awaited the destruction of everything.

“I was so sure my plan would work,” I muttered in frustration. “The points I choose. Everything was perfect. This shouldn’t be happening!”

“But it is happening, Mr. Lawrence,” Professor Gordof protested. “Now stop wallowing in self-pity and help me contain the fracture. We may still yet be able to save our pitiful lives. Not to mention the rest of the universe.”

I turned to him, snapped from my state of remorse and self-condemnation and emerged to reality to aid the professor. He sat to my left and gave me a reassuring gesture.

“Your plan to return to an earlier state in your life and remain at that age didn’t have much chance of success,” he said frankly, “but I admire your creative approach. That’s why I let you continue, like Mr. Breighton. You gave everything you had.”

What he said touched me more than I would have admitted. Professor Gordof and I were older — he considerably more than I — and yet we seemed to share a similar understanding. I sucked in all my pride and helped him seal the breach.

I could now see the phenomenon visually in the room. The tear was very pronounced and an obscure white light emanated almost like from inside an envelope. If it could be closed somehow. The laboratory was now full of ‘me’s’ from my past and they were now spilling out into the hallway. The entire university must be aware of it by now.

“I think I have it,” he claimed. To my right one of my many hundred doubles vanished completely. Three more surrounding him vanished immediately after him.

“I HAVE FAILED,” echoed violently through the laboratory and throughout the hallway. I had whispered it to myself but at the same time all my doubles had spoke it and it was amplified exponentially. Professor Gordof looked up momentarily from his console but retreated back to his business at hand. I did the same.

Afterward (Return Vector)

I turned to see Professor Gordof enter and I immediately rose from the recliner. I pushed the memories to the back of mind for the moment and awaited his verdict. He would now declare me expelled from this institution and unfit to return to work under the circumstances. I couldn’t deny that he would be right in his judgment.

He closed the door and approached me.

“Good news,” he began. “I eliminated the remaining doubles from your past. It’s just you now.”

“That’s a relief,” I responded. I paused for a moment. “So the tear has been sealed? I take it I didn’t do any permanent damage?”

“I will have to run further tests. But it seems for now we’re all safe. But there is another matter...”

Me left eyebrow raised.

“I took readings of all students before each one entered the Advanced Particle Accelerator. I took a reading of you before you stepped through the first time and I took a reading of you while we were containing the breach and I found some startling results.”

“And?” I didn’t know what to say.

“I found your second reading of chromometric particles of decohesion did not match that of my first scan before you traveled into the past to conduct your final assignment. Your rate of cellular decay is less than when you departed for your assignment.

“In other words: I found that you are exactly ten minutes younger than when you first left. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t have the damnedest idea how this is even possible. I eliminated all the redundant ‘yous’ perfectly.”

I looked to my hands as if the answer lay there somewhere. I shook my head; it didn’t make any sense. I had arrived ten minutes before my present self was to leave on his assignment and I would phase back to my return vector when the time in this period was over. I remembered him locked away back in room 119.

The thoughts racing through my mind froze upon one: I locked him in.

He couldn’t have gone through if I had taken his place. I entered the particle accelerator to begin this assignment the moment I was to emerge back. I did it for a good reason, but somehow I forgot what consequences could take place.

I thought about the route I almost made to secure my passing grade; sabotaging Mr. Breighton’s mission. It was a juvenile move and I’m glad I didn’t go through with it. But had my solution been any better? Did it really matter now anyway?

“Excuse me,” I said. “I need to check something.”

“You’ll be pleased to know the results of your assignment will be of great interest to all scientists and theorists of time travel abroad! You’re going to be a point of interest for quite some time. You somehow found a way to reemerge at a younger state. This is extraordinary!”

I nodded but I didn’t feel any better. I was glad I wasn’t expelled to say the least.

I pushed the door to 119 open after I unlocked it and searched for my present me I had knocked unconscious. The room was empty. I circled it searching behind each wash table. The stool I had fallen out of still lay overturned but where I had been laying were only a set of my clothes and a pair of shoes.

My head hurt from the confusion as I tried to put everything together. I found the more I tried to simplify it, the more confused I became. But I was glad about one thing at least. I was glad I hadn’t gone through with wrecking Mr. Breighton’s assignment. Something inside me changed my mind at the last minute. Perhaps something only an older, wiser person would understand. The person who knocked out the present me, right here inside this room, was older. Possibly that could explain why I choose not to go through with it. Not that an older person would always make the better decision.

But I was younger now.

Professor Gordof had confirmed it. Ten minutes. I laughed inside the empty laboratory thinking about it. It was hardly worth the fuss. I couldn’t believe anyone would take much interest in loosing ten minutes off their life. But I suppose it would be a topic of further study. Still, I just had to wonder about the ‘me’ I locked in here. Was I a different person now? A new me? All right, maybe not a different person... maybe I was just... not as old as I used to be.

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