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July 2040
he evening news flashed on the TV. Viewers couldn’t
tear themselves from their screens even during a
long commercial. Everyone was waiting for the
sensational show to begin.
The commercial splashed in the foam of sweet libations,
with the chomping of crunchy chips, and finally ended
suddenly on an optimistic note about the battle of the
waistline bulge. The show began. The anchorwoman
prattled her usual opening words with more brevity than
usual. She didn’t show off and toot her own horn as she
usually did, which made it evident that she, too, was
waiting in trepidation. She just announced in brief:
Professor Coifman from such and such an institute for the
first time in history has been able to extract biological time
from the human body and is prepared to demonstrate this
on live TV.
Dry as a mummy, the professor appeared in the studio.
Without even introducing himself and his research
assistant Fred very effectively, he sat down his assistant in a
chair. Both of them were noticeably agitated. The long gray
professorial mane dangled charismatically every which way.
Coifman’s nearly two-meter height accentuated his
gauntness. He held in his hands something that looked like
a water pistol, but equipped with an electronic display.
Shaking it in the air, the professor gave a short talk, of
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