Chapter 3: 8 days
Midas lies in bed and dreams. The dreams are pleasant, but they also reveal a solution. His eyes widen, and he sits up. He pauses for a second. Midas heads for the office in just his sweats. He turns on the computer and loads his document. By hand, he types the final portion of his paper. Quickly, he proofreads it. It is done. He laughs with excitement and glee. It is still early, so he heads back to his room and throws on running clothes. In a few minutes, he is out the door. The sunrise is stunning this morning as he runs at a speed that he hasn’t achieved in years. He takes in the sights and sounds, and, for once, he appreciates the beauty of the landscape. Midas comprehends that he only has so many of these days left. For the first time, it hits him that his life will be over soon, and, for the first time, he is saddened by that fact. If he applies today, he could still be exempt, he reminds himself. Midas thinks about it for a few minutes and decides that he will apply for exemption today.
Midas arrives back at his house and checks his watch. The time is his best in 14 years. He smiles and heads. He undresses and heads for the shower. The water feels great as he steps into it. He takes his time and enjoys the heat from the water. When he finishes, he towels off, and he decides to cook breakfast for himself. Midas cracks some eggs and adds cheese and bacon with some veggies. He pulls a frying pan from below the sink and places it on a burner. He pours the mixture into the pan where he just watches it. It strikes him that he must turn the mixture. He searches for a spatula, but he doesn’t have one. Finally, two forks suffice as he turns the omelet over. When he finishes, it is burnt. Midas eats with a sense of accomplishment. Then, he feeds his cat before heading to the bedroom.
The bedroom is a mess as he enters it and digs through his closet. Midas throws on a pair of khakis and a button down top. He goes to his office where he prints off his work from the past month. It is just shy of 100 pages. He uses a binder clip to keep the document together and places it in his attaché case. Midas double checks his office to make sure that he has forgotten nothing. Satisfied, he leaves the house, petting his cat before he leaves. Midas waits for the bus which is empty, so he picks a spot near the back. He sits down and enjoys the hum of the engine. The bus stops at the train station where Midas gets off. A maglev train hovers on the track in front of him. Midas moves to a ticket booth to purchase his ticket. A tired woman stands before him and asks a perfunctory question.
“Destination?”
“State University, Minneapolis.”
“Here you go.”
The doctor takes the ticket and thanks the woman.
“Doctor Stanley?”
“Yes?”
“It is you. I love your work. You should have won the Nobel prize.”
“Well, I disagree, but thank you. What’s your name?”
“Linda.”
“It’s nice to meet you Linda. You’ve read my work?”
“Almost all of it, made me hello to everyone stranger on the street. I’m more connected than I’ve ever been. I love it.”
“Well, thank you. Can I ask? Are you in college?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh, I thought this was a part time job, maybe. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“No, you didn’t. I didn’t go to college.”
“Do you plan on going?”
“No, I’m not smart enough, and it’s too late.”
“If you understood my work, you are more than smart enough. Even I find it confusing at times. Well, it’s never too late. Ever. Maybe this is good enough for you, but I have found that we must follow our dreams. Always, even if we fail, especially if we fail. It’s better to try and fail, than to have never tried at all. I was 28 when I started college. How old are you?”
“29.”
“I’d have guessed younger, but you still have plenty of time. It’s never too late.” He turns to leave.
“Wait, doctor.” Midas turns around and faces the woman again. “Thank you. Thanks for that word of encouragement. No one has done that for me before. Everyone has told me that I’d fail.”
“Don’t listen to them. That’s the problem with some people. They don’t think they’re capable of so many things because no one believes in them, so they don’t believe in themselves. Then, they don’t want others to believe in themselves and a vicious cycle has occurred. Break the cycle, Linda, and prove them wrong. I know you can, and I’ve only talked to you for a couple of minutes.” He smiles at her and nods. She beams back. There is no doubt on her face. He can tell she will follow his advice.
Dr. Stanley walks onto the train where he locates a seat in the middle car of three. It remains mostly empty until the train slides down the rails. Soon, it is moving at 200 miles per hour. Midas watches trees and buildings off in the distance. Midas taps his feet. Time passes slowly, and he regrets not bringing a book. He stands up in the hope of finding something to read, but there is nothing. He sits down and acknowledges that he is anxious. Taking in deep breaths, he calms down and tries to nap, unsuccessfully.
Soon enough, the train begins to slow and comes to a stop in the middle of a large university. Midas leaves the train and heads for the office of a friend. It is a jaunt, but he walks as fast as he can. In the distance, he can see Hoffman Hall. It nears until he finally reaches the door. He opens it, but lets the students behind him in first. Then, he rushes up the stairs to the third floor. He checks his watch. It is still early, so he walks down the hall which used to be so familiar. His old office is now occupied by a much younger man who doesn’t even notice him. The hall is empty, and he approaches the office that he has been seeking. The door is cracked open. Midas knocks on the door. A masculine voice says: “Come in.”
The doctor enters the meager office and says: “Dr. Livingston, I presume.”
A lean man with a mustache and brown eyes looks up at him and smiles.
“Dr. Midas Stanley, you’re early.”
The man stands to meet his old friend and mentor. He has thin brown hair and a runner’s body. They shake hands with vigor.
“Umm, I’ve been working on something. You should read it.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No joke. I think it’s pretty good.” He pulls the document out of his attaché case. “Do you have time right now?”
“Yes, I do.” He lifts the document. “This is lengthy.”
“I’ll hang around in case you have questions.”
Dr. Livingston reads through it slowly. He doesn’t ask questions until he finishes two hours later.
“You really think mortality salience is constant? I suppose it is with retirement. You used population data to provide evidence that it’s beneficial. Constantly thinking about death is a positive thing?”
“It didn’t used to be, but the ticking clock pushes to increase value of things that matter, our figurative immortality has replaced a desire for literal immortality.”
“Our resources have shifted. That could explain these results.”
“To increase human connection, to spend more time with our children, and to make our world a better place? Treatments didn’t arise to change that behavior. Hell, behavior change was nearly impossible before retirement came into being. The only problem, well not the only one, but the main problem is that family becomes important to a fault. If those around you aren’t positive, that’s tough or if you lose someone important or if you’re sterile. All are situations that may result in problems like loneliness or even depression.”
“You’re throwing a lot at me. I need to think about it some more. Who is the second author here? Jim McIntosh?”
“He started the gears in my head and kept adding input to the paper. He deserves the credit.”
“This is an updated Terror Management Theory. Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s just too bad you won’t see it come to fruition.”
“I have to endure this from you, too?”
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“No, it was just a comment. A sad reflection, perhaps.”
“Good, let’s keep it at that.” Midas doesn’t mention his change of heart.
“Fine, so, what now? Lunch?”
“Of course.”
They leave the office and head for the food court. Dr. Stanley grabs a cheeseburger and fries while the younger doctor grabs a salad. They sit down and chat. A few students talk to them, but they mainly chat each other up. When they finish, they recycle their trash and head back to Dr. Livingston’s office. They shake hands and hug.
“I’m going to miss you, Dr. Stanley.”
“Likewise, sir, likewise. We’re still on for dinner on Monday, right?”
“Yes, Midas.”
“See you in a few days.”
Dr. Stanley buys another ticket and takes the maglev train back home. A smile does not leave his face during the entire train ride. When he arrives at his destination, he leaves the train and hops on a bus that takes him home. Jim is waiting on his front step as he steps off the bus. Midas looks at his watch and sees that it is later than he thought. The sun is going down, and he can’t help but wonder how long Jim has been sitting there. Almost as though he read his mind, the boy says,“I haven’t been waiting long.”
“I’ve called you a few times. You haven’t gotten back to me. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just tough knowing that you’re going to be gone soon. I didn’t want to accept it, so I ignored you. Sorry.”
“I understand. I’ve been through that before. Do you want to come inside? Have you eaten?”
“Yes to both questions.”
They head into the house where Jim sits at the table as Midas prepares supper for himself. The young man sits quietly until Midas finishes his meal. Silence becomes uncomfortable. Midas speaks up first.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Where did the current form of retirement come from? I mean, was it always like this?”
The doctor swallows his food and looks stunned at the boy.
“You don’t know about this?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, do you want something to drink? Cause this is going to take some time.”
“No, just lay it on me.”
“Alright, well 30 years ago, this country was buried in debt. About 40 trillion dollars. However, our government only takes in about 3.5 trillion dollars a year, so we had to cut drastically. The three biggest expenditures were Medicare, Social Security, and defense. Oh, wait. Okay, Medicare was a program that provided medical care for senior citizens. Social Security was a retirement fund, or a fund that provides money to people after people stopped working. Defense is military and/or war spending. However, these programs were hemorrhaging money and eating up our budget, so there were a few options. On top of that, the interest on our debt half a trillion dollars a year. Taxes could be raised to a near extreme and pay off the debt. Or, they could be raised gradually and slowly pay it off. However, people would not vote for someone who raises taxes, so that option was out. Six recessions later, it was agreed that the elderly should not be covered by the government nor should they receive social security even though they had paid for both programs. We would also stay out of wars, and defense spending was cut to a few billion dollars a year. The three biggest expenses were gone or at least greatly reduced. That money was spent on the debt, but people were unhealthy and needed more and more chronic, long term care. Soon, there were tens of millions of sick elderly people who were uninsured. The cost of health care and insurance skyrocketed. Finally, euthanasia came into play after a plea for mercy. The chronically ill were euthanized to save money and, theoretically, end their suffering because their quality of life had become so low.
Well, it began to work. Many argued that it was inhumane, and it was murder. But, enough people supported it for it to continue. I supported retirement. So, with support, the euthanasia continued, but even the healthy ones were usually poor or eventually became poor. So, we decided as a country that the only humane and just thing to do was to euthanize everyone at a given age. It had numerous other beneficial consequences. People became more productive and really lived their lives. The debt was erased. Other needed social programs were added or enhanced, and they flourished. Poverty was almost entirely erased. Mass transit became common. We became an environmentally conscious, mentally healthy, and physically healthy nation. Retirement had somehow transformed the entire population into something better. It was amazing.”
“Did you vote for this?” The boy interrupts.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It seems really selfish, but my reasoning was not, in my opinion, of a selfish nature. When I was a young man, I had no contact with my paternal grandfather. I knew my other grandparents who would die suddenly in a car crash when I was 12.”
“A car crash?”
“Yeah, they were common back then, but my paternal grandfather was an enigma to me. So, I asked my dad about him, and he brushed off my questions. Naturally, I sought the old man out. He was stuck in a nursing home. My grandpa was a widow and had developed dementia. I was 17 when I first met him. Over time, it became clear the morning was the best time to visit him because he became worse later in the day. Yet, as I talked to him, I realized that he was something special. He’d been a medical doctor until he was put in a nursing home. His best friend there was a CNA who talked to him for about 20 minutes a day. She was sweet and offered him company that he needed, but I decided that wasn’t enough. So, I visited my grandfather every day and came to know him well. The man taught me a lot of things about life, philosophy, and how to be a decent human being. I didn’t know how to be that person. The more I listened, the more this man taught me, and the more I appreciated him. He was venerable and sagacious, but he was ignored. A wise, respected man had been reduced to this. I couldn’t handle it, so I talked to my father who did nothing. I was poor and lost. My grandfather slowly guided me towards a path that I loved. As he got worse, I became closer to him. While he called me Danny usually, the name of my dad, I played along and listened to his stories. Then, one day towards the end of his life, he recognized me. He called me Midas, and he told me: ‘Midas, you can do anything. I know brilliance when I see it. I believe in you, and, now, all you have to do is believe in yourself.’ Over all this time with dementia, he figured me out. It was the last thing that he said to me. I was 27 when he died. The next semester, I enrolled in college courses. My life was finally on track. Yet, I was saddened because this man was not respected as he should have been. He was largely ignored and forgotten, and I didn’t want that to happen anymore. I thought with retirement, the age of the venerable and sagacious elder would return. For a time, it did. It still mostly exists today, but, now, everyone has survivor’s guilt. It’s because of my grandpa that I chose what I did because our lip service to this group of people was hurting everyone.”
The boy doesn’t respond immediately. He sits in thoughtful silence. “Why not overturn it? The law, now.”
“I may be a smart man, but I don’t have a good answer for that. Is my logic sound?”
“Yes. I can understand where you’re coming from. Did that really happen to most of the elderly? What you said.”
“It was more common than it should have been. There were buildings upon buildings full of forgotten elders. It wasn’t right.”
“Your grandpa sounds like a great man. I wish I could have met him.”
“Yeah, he was something. He died 24 years before you were born.”
They sit in silence for a couple of minutes.
“I think retirement needs to change. Or, at least, exemption needs to be increased,” says Jim.
“Exemption. What time is it?” He checks his watch. It’s 12:05. He has missed the midnight deadline to apply for exemption. There is no going back now.
“Is something wrong?” Jim asks.
“No. It’s just late
r than I thought.”
The young man checks his watch. “Crap. I better get home. My mom will be wondering where I am.”
“Yeah, it’s getting late. Come back anytime.”
“I’ll be back.” He says with a smile. Jim heads out the front door, but stops.
“Dr. Stanley. I just want you to know that you’ve taught me a lot, and you’ve empowered me. I’m sure your grandpa would be proud.”
“Thanks, Jim. I’m sure he is. Have a good night.”
“Bye.”
The door closes and locks. Midas heads to his bedroom. He pulls a cell phone from his pocket. There are no missed calls, but he has one call to make. He calls his daughter Amanda. It rings and rings with no answer. He sighs in disappointment but leaves a message. “Amanda, it’s your dad. Can you call me back? I wanted to talk to you, and I was wondering if you’re coming up here.”
Midas presses end and sits on the bed. He places the phone on his nightstand. He undresses and shuts off the lights. The sheets are warm as he climbs under them. Sleep does not come for a few hours, and he only sleeps for three hours. Sunlight begins to shine through his bedroom windows, so he hops out of bed and throws on his workout clothes. He runs, eats breakfast, and enjoys the day. Finally, he submits his paper. The next few days pass like this with an unanswered phone call to his daughter every night.
Midas eats supper with his old colleague who gives him a hug at the end of the night. Conversations with Jim occur nearly every day. Then, one night, he finds Michele waiting on his steps. He stops in front of her, and she looks at him.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi, how are you?”
“Good. I have been thinking about what happened between us and felt bad. I felt rejected, but I shouldn’t have.”
“You know, the mind interprets rejection in the same way as physical pain. It makes sense because it hurts. I’m sorry. If I were a bit younger, things would have been different.”
She smiles. “No, I’m sorry. My actions were inappropriate.”
“I always preached about the importance of human connection. I haven’t thought about physical connection since my wife died, but I would like to connect. Would you like to have dinner with me? Well, a glorified snack,” he clarifies.
“I’d love that,” she says.
Midas heads inside, and they each have a piece of cheesecake. They talk for almost an hour before she lives. Midas walks her to her car, and she gives him a kiss on the cheek. He waves goodbye as she backs out of the driveway. She drives away, and Midas heads inside to spend some time with his cat.
On his final night before retirement, he goes to his son’s house where Caleb and Cindy wait for him. He visited them nearly every day. Tonight, they eat supper and talk. Afterward, they say their goodbyes and I love yous. He hugs his son and daughter in law and touches Cindy’s stomach. Not being able to see his grandson is his only regret.
“The baby is going to be beautiful,” says Midas.
“Well, he’ll have good genes.”
“He? It’s a boy.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to be a great father, son.”
“Thanks, dad. I’m going to miss you. Maybe, I’ll see you in the afterlife, if it exists.”
“Well, I’ll find out tomorrow.”
Caleb and Cindy embrace Midas and begin to cry.
“Life will always end. At least, I lived a good life. So are you. You’re doing it right.” Cindy lets go of him. Caleb pulls away. Midas places his hand on Caleb’s shoulder.
“There’s something I need to explain. I need to tell you why I didn’t apply for exemption. It wasn’t because of you. Even if your mom were alive, I would follow this path.”
“I know, dad. I know. I think I understand.”
They hug one more time before he heads home. Midas steps onto a bus and heads back to his house. No one is waiting for him. He goes inside and sits for a second. His cat jumps onto his lap, and he pets her for a couple of minutes. The doorbell rings. When he answers the door, it’s Jim. The young man is in tears. He simply says: “I’m going to miss you.” Midas hugs him and holds him tight for a second.
“If you come back as a ghost, will you visit me?”
The doctor laughs. “Yes, of course I will.” He says laughing a little.
“Ok, good. I can’t stay any longer. Good night, Dr. Stanley. I’ll make you proud.”
“Be a good person and do your best. That’s more than most people.” The kid smiles and leaves. “Oh wait, I’ll miss you too.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Midas goes back inside and sits on the couch. He pulls out his cell phone and calls his daughter one more time. Its rings, but she does not answer. Midas leaves a message.
“Amanda, honey, I was hoping to see you one last time, but I guess that’s not going to happen. Umm, I just want you to know that I love you. I know why you’re mad at me. But, I want you to know that I didn’t apply for exemption because I didn’t want to burden you. I didn’t want you to see me as I lost my memory and became incontinent like your mom. I wanted you to have good memories of me. Not bad ones. It wasn’t because I didn’t love you. Quite the contrary, I love you very much. Goodbye, Amanda. I love you, honey.”
Midas sets down the phone, and the cat hops on his lap again. She purrs as he pets her. Soon, the cat is asleep, and he begins to fall asleep to her purring. This was a pretty good night, he thinks to himself.