Tommy signed off, and looked around his office, sighing in frustration. New development. Shadows. That's not what we need, he thought. We don't need to add little details to the old engine, we need a new engine. And we need it now.
He looked up at the black balloons that bobbed in the air conditioning currents near the ceiling of his office. It was a tasteless tradition, he thought, tasteless at its best. I only have one year left, and still I can't make them feel any urgency. He had tried to push Night_Watcher and Fair_Weather to hurry, but Night_Watcher was half his age, and Fair_Weather was even younger. To them, SDS was a rumor, a far-off something that they would have to worry about someday. Tommy sighed again. There were legends of people who lived long past their fortieth birthdays, but they were just that--legends.
Sometimes, when he was really feeling his age, Tommy would tell Night_Watcher, "You've got to hurry. I've only got one year left."
Night_Watcher's stock reply was disheartening. "If you're such a genius, why don' t you find a cure for SDS?"
He wished he could. He wished that someone could. But no one knew why it happened. If you lived to be forty years of age, you would die two days after your fortieth birthday. It happened to everyone, without fail. The sick, the healthy, everyone. Hundreds of doctors had spent their lives researching it, but as soon as they seemed to be making progress, they, along with their entire research team, would die suddenly and inexplicably. It was as if someone had decreed that no one would live to see his forty-first birthday.
Tommy stood. He knew what was waiting outside his office door, and though he didn't want to face it, he knew he had to.
He pulled the door open. Black streamers hung from the ceiling like a curtain. Fifteen people stood around his door, silly grins on their faces, and black crepe ribbons on their arms. Each held a small cardboard coffin with a gift inside.
"Congratulations" they yelled.
"Congratulations? For what? All I've done is stay alive."
"Hey, man, there's no reason to be all prickly. We're just playing with you."
Tommy regretted his outburst. These were his friends. They were just playing with him. They didn't deserve to be yelled at. But this was urgent. He had to finish. Nothing could stand in the way. Why couldn't Night_Watcher and Fair_Weather understand that? Why did they have to dawdle about everything?
He glanced at his watch. "Sorry. Look, I'm late for my first appointment. I'll see you all at lunch, OK?" They all made a big deal out of glancing at the nearest clock, and then down at their watches. He knew that they were making fun of him, but this time, he didn't care. He hurried off down the hall, trying to push the thought that he'd only be doing this for one more year to the back of his mind.