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Prologue: Kaleidoscope

“The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.”  – Lucius Annaeus Seneca   S lipping. Between daylight and mist – the dark not far. Darkness is not my friend. Time grows short… Soon, not ready, but soon. Darkness will be your friend. Who said that? Blinking… In and out, light, off and on. Remembering… Day? Month? Year? The stroke – when? 2030? President? Oh, yes, cute dark horse from Texas – cross between Abe and Bobby. The Fascist in exile – oh, happy day! “Happy Birthday, sweetie!” Sing-songy, irritating voice inflicted on children and old people. Elderspeak. Youngster in Kaleidoscope smock. I may be old, but I’m not stupid. Why do young people disrespect the old so much? Treat us like mindless ninnies? “What year?” “2047.” 2047? Baby voice: “You’re 97 today. Isn’t that nice?” Ninety-seven? Nothing nice about that, stuck in bed, you ninny! “President?” “How adorable,” Kaleidoscope says, turns to invisible one.

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