“Computer,”
he asked, “how long do I have?” It
paused. He hated when it paused.
“Judging
by your current rate of decline and the current life expectancy for wealthy,
American, Caucasian males, you have two remaining jumps.”
“Two
jumps,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. He
had hard choices to make. His wife got
off work an hour ago. He could spend the
night with her. Or maybe he could try
something he never had before.
“Computer,
I would like to use both of my jumps.”
“Both,
sir?”
“Yes,
both,” he replied sure of his decision.
The
computer began loading and Jeremy closed his eyes to the clicking sound. It was relaxing after all the years spent in
his office.
Atoms
rearranged themselves. The walls and
floor disintegrated. Jeremy felt an
uncomfortable force pulling him forward.
It was forward, he hoped. His skin felt looser, his hair thinner as a
bed materialized below him.
“You
can come in now,” a caring voice said. “He
doesn’t have much longer.”
An
older woman, he recognized as his wife was stroking his hair. He felt the sensation. Somehow, the weight of death seemed lifted,
staring at her. Jeremy recalled things
he hadn’t lived through, but had happened just the same; vacations, picnics and
nights spent underneath the stars.
The
two people the nurse motioned came in after a brief chat Jeremy lost track
of. They looked like him, he
thought. They must have been… he choked back tears. They were his son and daughter. His son held a child.
“Hello,
dad,” the daughter said before embracing him.
“Guess
who came to see you?” his son asked. The
child smiled down at him. It was surreal
as he took his granddaughter in his arms.
The weight was heavier than he expected and he knew that he grew
weaker. But, somehow, he had greater
strength seeing the new life in front of him.
It was worth the sacrifice of time.
Image Source: Lauren Miller Gallery
