“All right. Now, if the smoke is cleared out of your lab by now, then we’re going to go down into it. Maybe you can help me fix this. Can you point out to me the
chemicals that did this to you?”
He nodded again.
“Good; I don’t know a whole lot about science, but I think it helps to know what chemicals originally caused a particular transformation if we want to reverse it,
right?”
He nodded again.
“Good. Now why don’t we go down into your lab and see if we can fix this?”
In fact, Jessica was less concerned with restoring her husband than she was with making sure she could re-create the chemical that had rejuvenated the both of
them. It had to be worth millions—no, billions—no, trillions. And Jessica was thinking ahead; she realized that, most likely, she would grow old again with the
passage of time. Already, she was starting to think of this unlooked for, almost miraculous gift as her right, her due.
She walked over toward the basement door, then edged up to the wall next to it. Placing herself as far from the door as she could while still able to reach it, she
reached over, grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and threw the door open as she ran a few feet in the opposite direction. She stopped, turned back and looked.
No more pink smoke coming from the basement/laboratory.
Jessica walked over, poked her head inside.
There didn’t look to be any pink fumes lingering around.
She hesitated a little longer, wondering if there might still be invisible fumes down here. Maybe she should just go out and get the chemicals somewhere else …
But no. Her husband was too young to talk. What was she going to do, have him type on the computer words like “trichlorodiethaline carbonate?” The lure of
eternal youth, of fame and fortune, pulled Jessica into the basement.
Her baby husband pointed shakily to every vial of chemical he had used in his concoction—or at least, that he thought he had used, she amended worriedly. She
wrote down the label on each vial on a pad of paper, carefully writing down every piece of information that looked important—in other words, everything. She was
not taking any chances with her new miracle elixir.
Jessica asked a few questions about what she was supposed to do with them—each time, he shook his baby head. Finally, a little frustrated, she asked, “Well,
what am I supposed to do, just pour them in a bowl together and mix them?!”
He nodded.
Well, for— She cut that thought off, and mixed the solution—then wrote that down.
She poured it into a jar, then frowned. There was no way to be sure they had gotten the elixir exactly right, or, even if they had, if it would work the same way. It
had to be tested. But on who?