PRIMELIFE
Ben Donaldson held firmly onto the handrail as he slowly climbed the wrought iron staircase bolted to the outside of the Central Agency Building. The staircase had been built for aesthetic effect, not for regular use, the steps were narrow and irregular as they followed the curves of the building that spiraled up to the dome at the very top. Despite the difficulty, Ben decided it was the best way to avoid the security station on the transition floor. He needed to get up to his office without anyone noticing he had grown old. The wind made the climb much more difficult for him, and he began to wonder if he had the strength to keep going. When he finally reached the top, he stopped to catch his breath, and to admire the panoramic views of the city of Aries spread out below him; the alabaster towers gradually diminishing in size as they faded into the horizon.
Ben was now an old man at a time when age no longer had meaning. His lean body, bent with severe atrophy, cast a solitary shadow against the smooth white exterior of the building. While he rested, he leaned against the railing and gazed out at the sunset. The day had worked its way toward evening, then began to toil toward night, the last rays of light turning bright hues of crimson as they surrendered to the darkness.
The universal battle of light and darkness had performed this solemn ritual every day of his life. Some things never change, he thought, but now he was ready for a change, a transformation of body and spirit leaving behind everything he had ever known. Ben had been born here in Aries, and here he would die, but fate had taken him on a path he could never have imagined. He looked out across the city one last time, then with the slowness of extreme old age, he pulled open the door to his office and shuffled his way across the room.
The large penthouse office was at the very top of the tallest building in Aries. Twenty-four years ago, Valerie White, the Assistant Director, had shown him the office for the first time. Ben had just been named Aries’ honorary first citizen, and had been assigned the office as part of his commission to produce the report on the Crisis of 2393. That first day Valerie had the window coverings drawn for him, revealing the magnificent views of the city below. She had also brought a bottle of champagne to wish him success, and to commemorate the event that would become the sole focus of his life.
The report was finally finished. His doubts and second thoughts about how the report was done had long since vanished. Once he had made the decision to stop his Primelife drugs and began to age, his attitude had changed. He was confident the report would produce the desired result; the long years of work, the research, and the interviews, had all been well worth the effort.
Ben crossed the expanse of the office to an over-sized desk which sat squarely in the center of the room. He laid out twelve neatly labeled VR journal packets on the desk. He also left a handwritten letter addressed to Director Alex Fullson, and a small glass case which held a curious instrument that had been doubled over and partially crushed.
Ben looked at the desk with satisfaction; he turned and sat down his small shrunken frame dwarfed by the over-sized chair. He opened a lower desk drawer and took out a primitive iron cup and a small copper flask of Surgate hemlock; these traditional ceremonial items had been a gift from his Surgate friend Ethan. He picked up the flask and poured himself a drink; his hands shook from anticipation and he needed to use both hands to keep the flask steady.
He stared at his hands with loose wrinkled skin and swollen joints, they seemed foreign to him, as if they belonged to someone else. He remembered it wasn't long ago when he had attended a Surgate celebration of life and seen old hands like his for the first time. He picked up the cup with the confidence of having done it every day of his life, and emptied it in one quick motion. He set the cup down, and by the time his head had reached the back of the chair he was dead.