By Nathan Veyon
I took the form from the gnarled hand. Behind the receptionist’s thick glasses, piercing jade eyes examined me. “Fill this out and your request will be considered.”
Only two other applicants sat in cracked vinyl chairs. The mint paint was chipped and stained. A layer of dust covered most surfaces. I took a seat and followed their lead, practicing a policy of mutual avoidance. Both scribbled furiously on their clipboards.
Looking at mine, I read the top of the page: “A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Only one applicant can be accepted. To be considered, please answer all questions.”
This was my chance at freedom—a way out of my miserable life. I had to be the one chosen.
I carefully filled out the medical questionnaire, then a personality test and essays on what I wanted to do with my life. Next there were education, work experience, and family history questions. Finally, I had to sign several pages of NDAs. The sun glowed lower through grimy windows before I finished. The receptionist was not at her desk, so I set the clipboard on her tray and walked out. Not wanting to miss this chance, I ignored the long shadows of the setting sun and stared at my phone as I navigated the cracked pavement and the piles of garbage on the way back to my trailer.
My neighbor’s dog strained his leash, barking madly; his trailer shook with thudding bass. A TV show blared from my other neighbor. Ignoring it all, I climbed the rusted steps to my front door. Once inside, I sat holding my phone, willing it to buzz.
A vibration in my hand woke me. My neck hurt, and my mouth felt like cotton. I squinted at the bright morning light and flipped open the phone. “You have been selected. Please return by 9 a.m.”
It was 7 a.m. If I left now I could make it in plenty of time. I stood, ignoring the light-headedness and rumbling stomach, then shuffled down the steps. It was silent as I walked past trailers and the now-sleeping dog. I avoided early morning pedestrians and arrived at the small office with an hour to spare.
The elderly receptionist’s green eyes gleamed when I entered. “Welcome.” She stepped around her desk. “This way.” She led me deeper into the building. We entered a dimly lit room. A large metal box lay open in the center. A slight glow emanated from its dark olive interior. The receptionist motioned for me to get inside.
I crept toward it. Cables and tubing ran from the base to a panel at the side of the room. With some trepidation, I stepped inside and lay down.
Besides a soft whirring, nothing else seemed to be happening. I blinked a few times. The darkness deepened, and the noise stopped.
“You can get out now.”
I struggled to sit upright, my muscles complaining at every movement. How long had I been in there? Next to me stood a stately woman wearing a lab coat. She had perfectly coiffed silver-gray hair and her sparkling eyes were the same shade of jade as the receptionist’s. A sister perhaps.
“Easy now. You’ve been in there for quite a while.” She helped me stand. “Remember, the number of treatments is up to you, but this opportunity won’t be available forever.”
On the way home, my brain felt fuzzy, and the afternoon sun did not help. As I approached my trailer, I stopped. Something was wrong. Barking. There was no barking. And my trailer was gone. In its place stood a modest house. My knees hurt walking up the steps, but the wonderment kept me from caring. I entered and blinked at the hazy view of furniture. The longer I looked the more solid it became. A plush sofa beckoned me.
I woke slowly the next morning. My joints creaked as I stretched. But I was on an incredible sofa… in my new house. It hadn’t been a dream. I was the luckiest man alive. I hurried out the door, clambered down the steps, and rushed as quickly as my sore knee would allow.
The lady with the lab coat smiled when I walked in. Without a word, she led me to the back. I clambered into the box and waited for the whirring and the darkness. It came and went like last time, and I knelt in the box and noticed an unfamiliar tightness in my back pocket. I pulled out a brand-new leather wallet. Inside was stuffed with hundred-dollar bills, and poking from the first pocket was a black credit card. Giddiness swept through me. I could have anything I wanted. Barely glancing at the dark-haired woman now manning the console, I shouted, “Again.”
The darkness and whirring washed over me once more. When the lights came back on, I had a fine suit and knew the name of my butler. I could picture my expansive garage filled with luxury cars. I noticed the reflection of a graying man in a metal panel above me. It looked vaguely like me, but I couldn’t focus on what that meant. I turned to the woman. “Again.”
Familiar—almost comforting—darkness enveloped me and then lifted. This time, I could barely make it into a sitting position. I checked my heavy gold wristwatch, but I couldn’t quite discern the hands. “A… gain.” I lay back, and in my hazy vision spied the face of a beautiful, young intern. “Of course, sir.” Her green eyes sparkled as the darkness took me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WHOAH!! Stealing his youth (or life, I suppose) in exchange for the wealth he’s never going to enjoy… that is a scary premise. It really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; does she do this every time she gets old, I wonder?
That is good question. If someone has the ability to always make themselves young again how old are they really?
that receptionist lady seems kinda sketch *eyes her suspiciously*
Great mystery story!
It’s even sketchier that she seems to be getting younger.
Fascinating and esoteric. It makes you think.
Loved the premise! Wealth doesn’t make you you happy–or live long, apparently.
Mother Gothel, the sci fi version. 🎵Flowers gleam and glow… 🎶 Too bad the guy didn’t figure it out in time.
Chilling! That was a fascinating approach to a “green with envy” theme.
Cool… but creepy. Great storytelling!