I was lingering in the conservatory, seated at that shaggy old grand piano. Bits of Bach rose and fell again, my fingertips against the ivory. This piano has a warm, oak heart vibe and bright overtones. I love playing here, especially while the failing light of the afternoon sun paints slats across the bookshelves. It isn’t that I need a place to think. I need this place to not think.

It is harder than the last few times, saying goodbye to all this. But harder still thinking about how none of this house will change much while I’m gone. It will just gather dust. Much harder is thinking about all the people whose lives will stream past without me.

There’s nothing left to do, so I walk the perimeter and bring the dogs in for the night. They will be picked up and brought to their new families tomorrow. I go to bed and read one of Gladwell’s books, smiling at his show of reason.

In the morning, I wake refreshed. I had some dream about my sister. She was in jeopardy and I rescued her. Not from a regular monster, but a bureaucracy. Something Kafka would dreamed up before me. Through a narrow loop hole we leapt, and I awakened.

I groom myself and put on a nice suit. They’re going to strip me anyway, but at least I’ll look sharp when I leave the facility nine years from today. They warned us that we would sometimes feel like we were released from prison. Culture shock. Time shock.

My situation was better than a prisoner of course. My money was secure in an interest-bearing trust. The properties would all be managed by trusted advisors. The only thing I can’t carry forward is my relationships. Valerie was already gone, and I would never have her again.

In the car to ACME, I ticked off my checklist a few more times. Homes, accounts, subscriptions… Everything was ready.

An hour later, I was naked on a gurney. They anesthetize you before you get the stasis-inducing meds. Apparently, it hurts like hell to be awake when the actual process actually begins. The injection makes me feel warm, and I guess it’s some flavor of morphine.

See you in nine years.