by Betsy Curtis
young man slipped it into hispocket and, turning, thrust the inner door wide open with his now freehand. Entering the tidy front room, he kicked the door shut behind himand gulped in the good air before he headed for the back of the house,cradling the small body easily in his arms. Failing to find there whathe was looking for, he went up the narrow white-railed stairway to thesecond floor. Across the landing, the gleam of porcelain showedthrough a half-open door.
He laid his burden carefully on the vari-colored braided rug by thetub and began to draw a warm bath, testing the temperature frequentlywith his hand. When water reached the overflow outlet, he turned offthe tap and sprinted downstairs for his sample case. The hall wasstill chokingly full of gas; and after grabbing out the case, heslammed the door again. He brought the case up to the bathroom, wherehe opened it on the floor beside the form of the old woman. He liftedout the tray, revealing masses of silvery tubing and a number offlasks of iridescent solutions nestling among loops of rubberinsulated wiring. One flask he emptied into the bath, making the waterseethe and turn a cloudy green.
Then, dashing down the stairs again, he began looking for thetelephone. His search became more and more hurried, as he openedcupboards and drawers in front room and kitchen with no success.Returning upstairs, he almost missed the instrument in thesitting-room because he was expecting the familiar sight of a roundvizer screen. He stood over the phone and dialed.
"Hey, Alice!"
"What luck, Riggy?"
"I'm in. The old lady's out cold on the bathroom floor. Primersolution's in the bath at five above tepid. I'm shoving her innow--with all her clothes on, of course--and I've wasted a lot of timealready looking for this hypoblastic phone, so beat it on over herewith Margy and get to work."
"Are you ordering me around, Rigel O'Maffey?"
"You know I never did this job on a woman. And don't forget, honey,we'll get enough out of this to get a new copter together. C'mon now."He put the phone back in, the cradle before she could answer.
* * * * *
Back in the bathroom, he drew a long thermometer from the case, took acareful reading on the water, ran in a little more hot from the faucetand left it running the slightest dribble.
Carefully lifting the small body of Barbara Noble, Ph.D., he slid itgently into the water feet first over the end, smoothing down with onehand the percale housedress which ballooned as she went into thewater. Finally he knelt beside the tub, holding her head out of thewater in the crook of his elbow.
A banging on the inner door downstairs some fifteen minutes laterreminded him of the force with which he had slammed it in his hurry toreach the uncontaminated air of the front room. He looked longinglyacross the bathroom at the racks of towels on the other side, butfinally, as the banging stopped and a feminine voice began yelling,"Hey, Riggy! Let us in!" he grabbed up the bright rug and wadded itunder the scrawny neck.
The girls scolded him all the way up the stairs for not leaving thedoor unlocked, while he tried to explain, at the same time, that hehad to hold up the woman's head.
"Screepers, Riggy, what do you think the perfectly good pair ofwater-wings in your case is for?"
Humbled, he departed as the girls took over the beginning of thecomplicated, fortnight-long process of the rejuvenation of BarbaraNoble.
* * * * *
The receptionist behind the ebony desk, whose gold plate proclaimed itas the headquarters of the Juvine Perpetual Youth Corporation, crammedshut the drawer before her. A metallic clink from within was the fallof a mirror with which she had been assisting the application ofscarlet which now fluoresced gently on her full lips.
Tossing her head (which showed the crop of glistening black curls tothe fullest advantage) in a preoccupied manner, she addressed the manwho stood before her desk. "How can the Juvine Perpetual YouthCorporation serve you?" Her hastily assumed look of efficientimportance was replaced by melting eagerness as she took in thechiselled perfection of features and the broad shoulders of the youngman in knife-creased bronze spunlon.
"I'm Harris. For the directors' meeting." His voice was curt.
"_You're_ Doctor Harris? The Director? Oh, do come in." She rose fromthe desk and went around the end of it to open the high wrought-goldgate and hold it wide for him. "You're a little early. I'll take youdown to the Board Room." Eager willingness to help was apparent in herevery gesture.
"Thanks, I know the way," he informed her, brushing past.
She followed him, however, across the patio-like reception room, withits exotically gardened borders and splashing fountain, down the longcorridor past glowing murals of men and women swimming, dancing andplaying tennis, past tapestry shielded doorways to the great brightarch at the end. Before he went through, she caught his sleeve.
"I should be pleased to steno for you today, if you need me."
He turned and looked at her as if he had not known she was behind him."Thanks, but I sha'n't need one. It'll be a short meeting." He smileddown and patted her cheek. "But if I'm not entirely satisfied with theproceedings, maybe I can dictate a little afterward."
She laughed as if that were a special joke between them and retreatedrapidly down the corridor before he had time to turn and miss thesplendor of her graceful carriage.
His eyebrows were still raised and the corners of his mouth curved inappreciation when he passed through the arch and into the vast roomunder the clear bubble of a tremendous skydome.
* * * * *
A girl was sitting there, her back to him, looking out over thesimmering city streets to the cool rise of mountains beyond. Herecognized at once the slight figure, the sheen of the long curlingauburn bob, the poise of her head and slim hand resting on the arm ofthe chair.
"Babs!"
She turned half around. "Hello, Rod."
He grinned and sank down in the next chair. "Here we are again."
"Knocked out by your own skunk oil?" she asked pointedly.
"No. Company copter man got me leaving Jeery Wade's. What happened toyou? I thought you were walled up neatly for the declining years."
"The cosmetic man ambushed me in the hall. But I've got another fiftyyears to figure out something better ... if I still need it."
"What do you mean _if_ you still need it? Are you changing your mindabout rejuvenation?"
She smiled. "Well, you know it's always fun at first. But I'm havingmy lawyer come to this meeting. I've got an idea we can change thearticles of agreement so that the process can finally become publicproperty at the end of another fifty years instead of only after ourdeaths. Then if we want to go on and die, nobody" (she waved her handaround the great room at the little group of athletic men andglamorous, expensively gowned women moving in through the arch)"nobody will have any financial interest in rejuvenating us. Then,too, our own fat incomes will lapse; and since that's the reason weset up the articles the way they are--so we'd never be in danger ofstarving, that is--we'd have the more interesting choice of whether todie off or get young again and go back to work. Would you sign afifty-year termination, Rod?"
"Would you marry me for the fifty years, Babs?" His voice was gentle,pleading.
"Honest to goodness, now, aren't you really pretty tired of me?" sheasked earnestly, turning to face him.
"No, I can't say I am. You're pretty special, doctor, and you'respecial pretty." It was a ritual.
"You know you're the only man. I'll marry you. Will you sign?"
"Of course I'll sign. I would have anyhow when I knew you wanted meto. And Babs--maybe we could get some sort of jobs now--sort of to getin practice. I'll bet we could rent a lab somewhere and do commercialanalyses for a while until we got hit by another idea for research."
"Rod, that's the best idea you've had in the last hundred and fiftyyears. But we could have a honeymoon first, couldn't we?"
"That's your best suggestion in the last seventy years. And maybe wecould get Jeery Wade and his wife to rejuvenate and
go with us. Afterthe first couple of weeks, that is."
* * * * *
They left the meeting arm in arm, somewhat ahead of the ratherdisgruntled group of directors, who stayed behind to lament the end ofa good thing. In the garden room, Barbara stopped to choose an orchid.
Rod Harris wandered on to the receptionist's desk, where the girl ofthe black curls waited, smiling.
He looked back at Barbara, then smiled down at the girl. "Just like Isaid ... a short meeting. No need for any dictating. Lucky you."
"Oh, I don't know," she countered coyly.
"Say, I heard a story the other day you might like. Do you