The aging alchemist slowly decanted the product of months of preparation
into a crystal vial. He reviewed his work mentally before he could bring
himself to embrace fully a personal assessment of success. The materials
had been correct, he thought the texts had been fairly clear on the
basic ingredients. The rest of the work had been based on hunches,
half-guesses and outright gambles. Tonight he held it in his hand, the
alchemist's dream "Elixir". He had spent two years researching this
project before he had begun the work on a cold, rainy April morning.
Then came the laborious process of amassing the equipment; an induction
oven, a custom-made automated mortar, vacuum pumps, banks of polarized
lights and a supply of argon gas. Gathering the materials for the Elixir
was simplicity itself by comparison.
The first material necessary was an arseno-pyrite ore; an iron ore
containing arsenic and antimony. The second was a metal; iron. The third
was an organic acid, tartaric acid. He had made educated guesses about
the ratio at first, refining the procedure in the alchemist's version of
the mathematical technique called the "Drunkard's Walk". Hundreds of
attempts had given him the right proportions; ninety-five percent ore,
one percent iron, and four percent acid.
The process itself was extremely complex, but not as complex as many
modern industrial chemical processes. In the first stage, he had ground
the ingredients in an agate mortar for six months. He had had problems
locating an agate mortar, but had been unwilling to substitute a more
readily available commercial mortar. It was possible that trace minerals
from the sides of the mortar leached out during the grinding process and
interacted with the mixture. True, he had automated the process, but he
hadn't expected that automation would have any effect on the outcome and
apparently it hadn't. He had merely added a motor to perform what was
essentially a mechanical process. The next step was begun by slowly
heating the mixture in a high-frequency induction furnace while
isolating the mixture from the crucible walls by magnetic induction and
holding it at a constant temperature for ten days. The mixture was then
dissolved in sulfuric acid under polarized light before the last step.
The final step in the process involved a re-melting of the mixture while
watching for what the ancient alchemists had called the "The Sign of the
Heavens". This "Sign" could come in two forms; at the moment of melting,
star-shaped crystals would appear on the surface of the solution or a
surface layer of oxide would form and break up, exposing a luminous
metal with starlike points. If this did not occur, the mixture had to be
cooled, the liquid evaporated in a hard vacuum and the solid residue
recalcined in the furnace, then dissolved in acid, and remelted.
He had performed this step over one hundred times before he gave up. It
was obvious the change he was seeking was a rare ortho-crystalline form
of the compound and could only be produced after many, perhaps
thousands, of attempts. If he didn't find another method for producing
the change, he would be dead of old age before he produced the Elixir.
He considered the problem for a week before he realized he had been
thinking like an alchemist rather than a chemical engineer. Personal
observation and control of a single-step process wasn't the answer, he
had to automate.
The effort took five months to design and build, and cost almost three
million dollars to implement. He constructed a new lab along industrial
lines and filled it with computer controlled robot systems to heat,
cool, mix, vacuum-evaporate, and re-heat on a massively parallel basis.
He installed heat resistant, fiber optic cables in each induction oven
and connected them to digitizing cameras interfaced with a computer
utilizing Fast Fourier Transform image recognition software to detect
visual changes on the surface. One hundred simultaneous processes ran
completely under microprocessor control while he read alchemy texts in
his den and waited for the master computer to report positive results.
After seven thousand, five hundred and thirteen iterations, the "Sign",
in this case, a surface layer of oxide, formed.
Then he was able remove the semi-processed compound from the production
facility and return to his old lab to begin stage two of the process; an
oxidizing agent, potassium nitrate, was added, the mixture was removed
from the crucible, sealed in a argon-filled chamber with a desiccating
agent to protect the compound against the air and damp, and allowed to
stabilize. He had deduced that the period of stabilization, "the
ripening until the first days of Spring" as the ancients had termed the
interval, should be the same as the time between the Winter Solstice and
the Vernal Equinox and he had therefore allowed the mixture to "rest"
for one hundred and twenty days. During this time he cut and polished a
vial from a single artificially-grown, quartz crystal composed of
chemically pure silica.
After this period, he began the next stage known as the "preparation of
darkness". He placed the mixture in the vial and sealed it in a hard
vacuum. He put the vial in the induction oven and heated it slowly until
it became incandescent and then slowly cooled it.
He repeated this step multiple times until the mixture phase-shifted
into a blue-black fluid known as "raven's wing". The heating-cooling
cycle was repeated to produce the second phase shift, characterized by a
white color and called "The Stone of Whiteness". This was the phase of
the "Stone" which was fabled to be capable of transmuting metals into
silver. He continued with the process until the third and final phase
shift was produced; "The Stone of Redness", characterized by a ruby
color, which was said to be capable of transmuting metal into gold. When
this stage was reached, he cooled the mixture, solidifying it into a
loose paste. He placed the vial in a light-proof box and carefully
vented the vial's contents to the atmosphere, which crumbled into a fine
dust immediately on contact with air.
This was the "Alchemist Egg", upon which both fortunes and lives had
been wasted. But the "Egg" was not what this particular alchemist had
lusted for, he wanted the remains of the "Egg" that were left behind in
the vial. He took the dregs and sealed them in a light-proof container
with triple-distilled water and agitated them magnetically in a
temperature-controlled environment for three months before it was ready.
This was his crowning achievement, tonight he held in his hand the
product of three years of intense labor . He had succeeded, this was the
Water of the fabled Philosopher's Stone, The Elixir of Life!
Philip Kronos, aged inventor, chemical engineer, wealthy investor,
scholar, and sometime alchemist mused over his rediscovery of the
Philosopher's Stone. The Stone itself was nothing to him, he had plenty
of money, enough to last a lifetime, a score of lifetimes. He didn't
need gold. He wanted the other promise of the Stone - the Elixir of
Life. Philip was getting old.
He thought of the drawings that accompanied the ancient treatises on
alchemy. It was the drawings which had initially attracted him to the
search for the Stone. Intense study of the pictures had given him the
clues necessary to solving the ancient riddle. One drawing in particular
had attracted his attention five years ago while doing some historical
research. It was the famous drawing of "The Siren of the Philosophers"
which depicts the Goddess who pours milk and blood from her paps; the
milk symbolizing the Elixir of Longevity and the Blood symbolizing the
Blood of the Green Lion, i.e., the gold of the philosophers. When he saw
the drawing and recognized what it implied, he knew he had found his
own, his personal, holy grail. This was what his life had been leading
up to; this would be the crowning achievement, the culmination of all he
had accomplished in his life. Even his marriage paled in comparison to
how important success with the Elixir had become to him. His wife,
Diane, was merely part of the process. She had provided the impetus, the
need to begin the work. She made life livable, but the Elixir was life
itself! He wanted the Elixir of Longevity for his own.
A picture titled "L'Azoth des philosophes" or "The Material of the Work"
by Basile Valentin of Paris drawn in 1659 gave him the first clue about
which acid to use before the final step in stage one. The drawing
depicts a man carrying the universe with this explanatory inscription,
"Vistita Interiora Terrae, Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem" which
translated as "Visit the inner parts of the earth; by rectification thou
shalt find the occult stone". The first letters of the Latin inscription
form the word "vitrol". Vitrol was of course, sulfuric acid. He had
found the entire drawing inspirational. On the lower left side, a triple
face on the ground signified prudence or caution. On the lower right, a
naked babe reading the alphabet indicated the work would be of infantine
simplicity.
"Well...," he thought to himself while looking at the finished product
in the crystal vial, "it wasn't exactly infantine simplicity, but it
wasn't all that difficult. Merely expensive and time consuming. I think
it's time to go and tell Diane about my success. After this, I'm never
doing any research again. I've contributed enough to better people's
lives in the world, it's time I relaxed and let the world take care of
me. I'll be a man of leisure for the rest of my life. And with this
Elixir," he chuckled to himself, "I'm going to have a very long life
indeed."
Philip slipped into the bedroom quietly with his treasure. He stood
listening to Diane's soft snores. "You're only twenty-four," he thought,
"when you start showing your age I'll prepare another dose and give it
to you. All the work was for you anyway. I'm thirty years older than you
are my darling, how long would it have been until I became too old for
you to love. You deserve better than to take care of a decrepit old man
in your middle age. Twenty, perhaps thirty years at most and I will
either be dead or a bedridden, senile old man. The Elixir will restore
my youth and we'll celebrate life together."
He disrobed silently, dropping his clothes on the floor. He would take
the Elixir, the lay down in bed beside her and wait for the potion to
take full effect. He planned to wake her when he was rejuvenated and
then they would make love all night. He removed the stopper from the
vial and drained the precious liquid in a single draught, dropping the
empty vial to the carpet. Instantly he felt a tingling fire in his
stomach; it grew rapidly, spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes.
A jolt of energy sluiced through his spine from the sacral vertebrae to
the top of his head.
He felt like he was floating above himself. Everything in the room
seemed to have acquired additional dimensions. He turned around mentally
and saw himself standing there, surrounded by an enormous scintillating
golden aura. Vast avenues of knowledge opened themselves to him as he
became attuned to the Universal Source. Concepts and realities beyond
imagining revealed themselves to him and he stood gaping in wonder at
the beauty of Everything.
While he stood, the Elixir continued to work, rejuvenating him,
youthening his organs and his limbs, temporarily reversing the arrow of
entropy and rewinding the biological clock. The aches and pains of age
fell away like a discarded cocoon. He was metamorphosizing into a new,
younger self with every minute, Five years, then ten years, twenty years
raced by. His time damaged tissues repaired themselves down to the
cellular, then the DNA level. He felt turgid with vitality, he radiated
health. Another ten years vanished, and he waited for the process to
stop. He wondered for an instant why the process had not slowed and
stopped.
Comprehension came to him, and with alarm he knew what had happened. All
the machines! All the computer-controlled devices he had used to speed
the process up and save time and trouble, they were the root of the
problem. The formula had called for months of grinding the mix by hand,
heating, cooling and reheating the mix, over and over, watching every
step of the process. The observation, the physical labor itself was part
of the formula! Psychological and philosophical changes were necessary
before the Elixir could be used safely. He had taken a shortcut and
automated the process without acquiring the mental discipline necessary
to control the effects of the Elixir.
The meaning of "The Siren of Philosophers" was clear now; it was not a
promise of youth and wealth, but a warning to initiates. He should have
known that the use of a Goddess image in a male dominated culture was an
obvious symbol of evil. He realized he had completely misinterpreted the
drawings on the manuscript. It was not a signpost to his hearts desire,
but a admonition that the process was to be used for spiritual
illumination, not to satisfy the lust for wealth and youth.
The years slipped away and he became a youth of ten as he the meanings
of the pictures he had spent so much time studying flashed through his
mind. Here was the image of "The Material of the Work"; the triple-faced
head on the ground meant not prudence but caution, and the face looked
to the right, the consequences of ignoring the warnings;
over-rejuvenation into an unlettered babe. The next picture appeared in
his head like a slide in an automated projector. The picture summarized
"The Whole Work" as the Sun being assimilated to the soul, the to the
spirit, and the body to the cubic Stone, at which the darkened point of
Saturn pointed. He had erroneously interpreted this as yet another "red
herring" meant to mislead the unwary. Now he realized that the true in
terpretation of the drawing was that Saturn, the planet ruling "age" in
astrology, was pointing to the Stone while the other symbols represented
the body and soul being rejuvenated and then cared for by a woman,
symbolizing the new "mother" of the alchemical operator. Without the
proper mental preparation, the Elixir restored youth at a terrible cost;
the person who drank it would be rejuvenated in both mind and body into
a babe requiring a mother's care!
His hyper-awareness was starting to dim; he knew that in a few moments
he would lose the last years of childhood and with it his memory and
ability to reason. In a final blaze of illumination he knew why
successful alchemists disappeared; they either became enlightened and
vanished by necessity from the public view or they succumbed to the
effects of the Elixir and returned to a state of infantine bliss, their
minds wiped clean of dangerous knowledge.
He wanted to be close to Diane when the final moment of lucidity came.
He moved slowly toward the bed, stumbling as he tried to walk on legs
that became noticeably shorter with every step. "Only five steps away
now," he thought, "five steps and five years." "Four steps left.", he
thought. "Tree step, i luv you Dian!", he shouted mentally.
A curious serenity descended on him on the next to the last step.
Language and comprehension were wiped away along with his knowledge. His
mind was a tabla rosa on which nothing was written but his need for
Diane. Speechless and incogitant, he smiled gaily and continued his
progress toward his love. Philip, regressed now into naked infancy,
toddled unsteadily to the bed and climbed onto the side of the bed. He
crawled to the pillow and lay down behind Diana. He cooed and patted her
hair on the back of her head affectionately.
Diane smiled sleepily and reached behind her with her hand expecting to
feel her husband. She touched him on the shoulder, then groped further
and felt a small, smooth, baby bottom. Her eyes opened wide and she
awoke completely. Diane turned to see who was on the bed with her and
came face to face with Philip. She picked him up between her hands and
stood him on his feet, and glancing at his discarded clothes and empty
vial on the floor. A look of horror arose on her face as she looked into
the baby's face and saw an infant Philip. She realized instantly that
her husband had transmogrified himself into a baby. Diane sat up, still
clutching Philip in her hands and said, "Philip, Oh my darling ! Speak
to me ! Say something! Oh my darling!"
She hugged him to her chest and stroked the back of his head and
shoulders. He babbled in delight and tugged on the front of her
nightgown. She pulled him back from her and looked into his face. "Are
you trying to speak to me? Please Philip, speak to me!"
He smiled engagingly and brushed her hair with his fingers. "Oh my poor
husband, what's happened to you?", she said with a rising note of
distress in her voice.
His leg muscles had become too young and undeveloped to bear his weight
for long and he collapsed suddenly on the bed, grinning childishly up at
her. He espied the fingers of his left hand and brought them close to
his face and looked at them minutely, then thoughtlessly put his thumb
in his mouth and began sucking it. He was the picture of a dulcetly
charming, cheerful infant.
"Can't you talk? You're acting like a silly, thumb-sucking baby! If this
is one of your practical jokes, I'm going to be furious with you!"
She laid him down on the bed and examined his body for any deformity or
injury, finding only the unremarkable body of a perfectly healthy baby
boy. He laid happily on the bed, watching Diane's movements and sucking
his thumb. Tears welled up in her eyes as Diane lay down beside him and
said, "This isn't a joke, is it? You were trying to become young again,
and the experiment went wrong, didn't it? You did this to yourself just
to try and please me! You shouldn't have tried to make yourself younger
for me, I loved you just the way you were! Oh my poor, poor Philip!"
He gurgled happily, blew bubbles, then grinned an endearing toothless
smile and started to pee. Diane looked down and saw the puddle growing
on the bed beneath him. "Oh Philip, Now look at what you've done!", she
said in dismay.
He smiled sweetly at Diane, completely oblivious of what had happened.
Diane got out of bed, picked him up and carried him to the bathroom. She
laid him down on his back on the floor and left him momentarily while
she rummaged through the vanity drawer for some safety pins, then went
to the linen closet and took out a small white hand towel. She returned
and knelt on the floor beside him. "Poor dear, he can't even tell when
he's peeing," she said to herself as she picked up his feet and put the
towel beneath his bottom. Philip enjoyed Diane's attentions and kicked
his legs with a pleased chuckle.
"That's enough Philip. I can't diaper you if you're squirming around. Do
you hear me? Be still!!", she commanded.
"My darling, you're not potty-trained anymore, I'll have to keep you in
diapers until whatever you've done to yourself wears off.", she told him
firmly.
She pulled the towel up between his legs, pulled it over his stomach and
pinned it snugly to the other end of the towel to make a diaper. She
picked him up, carried him into the bedroom and laid him on the bed
while she blotted the puddle on the bed with a towel. When she was
finished, she picked him up, carried him to the love seat and sat with
him in her lap. She looked down at him tenderly as he gazed up into her
eyes in adoration. She smiled at his expression; whatever he had done to
his body had not affected his love for her.
She tried to remember what he had said about his latest experiment. He
had told her that the Elixir was almost ready. Her delighted expression
became anguished as she recalled his description of the Elixir's
effects. It was only supposed to reduce his age by thirty years.
Something had gone amiss and regressed him fifty-three years. He had
said that the Elixir of Life produced a catabolic stasis as well as a
permanent reduction in age. The aging process effectively stopped until
its efficacy was reduced by time; a period of approximately twenty
years.
This wasn't an amusing temporary effect of an alchemist's experiment
gone awry! He wouldn't return to normal in a few weeks; he would remain
in an infant's body for twenty years! She had lost her lover! Her
husband had gone, snatched away by the Fairy Magick of the Elixir,
leaving a baby's body in his place. She would be fifty-seven years old
when his body reached puberty!
"Oh my precious darling, you've regressed yourself into infancy!", she
wept, cuddling him with both arms to her bosom. "My poor darling, you
aren't even aware of what you've lost! Your silly experiments have led
you back to the beginning of your life. You've started your life over
again, my darling. It'll be twenty years before you'll be able re-learn
how to walk and talk or be potty-trained again. I'll be an old woman
before you're normal again."
Bitter tears rolled down her face as she grieved for her lost husband.
Philip reached up and touched a teardrop with a fingertip, bewildered by
her weeping. She looked into his wondering eyes and saw a beguiling
infant face peering at her with love and concern.
"I still love you, darling. No matter what you've done to yourself."
He bubbled and smiled winningly in agreement as drool rolled down his
chin. She looked deep into his eyes and saw the unformed mind that lay
behind them.
"Ohhh no. Oh please God no! Your mind is gone. My poor, poor baby,!",
she said in shock.
"My poor brilliant Philip, look at you! You don't even understand what
I'm saying! All the things I admired in you are all gone; your
education, your experience, your intelligence. There's nothing left of
you but a drooling, senseless infant.", she sobbed.
He sensed that something was wrong and started to whimper. Diane
snuggled him protectively against her and comforted him saying
soothingly, "Shhhhhh.....There, there, Philip... I'm right here.
...Don't worry, I'll take care of you! ...Don't cry baby, it'll be
okay."
She rocked him silently, tears streaming down her face. He quieted and
lay his head serenely against her breast. "Men need women to take care
of them their entire lives. They need wives when they're grown and
mommies when they're small. He's reliving his diaper days. He doesn't
need a wife anymore.", she thought mournfully.
He snuggled his head closer to her, seeking the warmth and protection of
her bosom. She looked down at him and sighed at the sight of him in his
makeshift diaper. Diane cuddled him closer, her maternal instincts
stirred in spite of herself. "He's so helpless.", she whispered with a
sad poignancy.
A fey expression lit her face and she talked to herself in a tragic
prattle as if she was explaining it to a small child; "Philip's only a
little baby now. He'll have to be fed, diapered, bathed, and looked
after. He needs his mommy. Babies need mommies to love and care for
them. But his mommy died years and years ago, poor baby."
She brightened and looked down at him thoughtfully. "Even if he doesn't
need a wife, he still needs someone to take care of him. He needs to be
nurtured and cherished like any other baby. I'm the only person in the
world he loves and trusts. He needs me. He's still mine even if he's
only a baby. I guess I'm his mommy now.", she thought.
"Would you like me to be your mommy honey? Do you want to be Diane's
little baby?"
Philip bubbled with glee as he reached up and plucked at her breast.
"Philip likes that idea, doesn't he? Diane will be the mommy and Philip
will be her baby boy. Mommy will take good care of her baby; she'll wash
him, and dress him, and feed him, and keep him in clean diapers. Philip
will never have to worry about anything again, mommy will tend to him
and watch over him."
She smiled down at him indulgently as he put his thumb in his mouth and
resumed sucking. He had forgotten everything except his attachment to
her. He was content to lie cradled securely in her arms and bask in her
embrace. She grieved the loss of her husband, but at least she had part
of him with her. "If I can only have one part of him with me, I'm glad
it's the part that's happy and loves me.", she thought.
He looked down, beholding his hands in wonder as if for the first time.
A small runnel of drool coursed down his chin unheeded and dripped onto
his chest. He stretched his hands out and played with his fingers,
fascinated by their appearance and motion, grasping each of them in turn
in his tiny fist. Diane was charmed by his toothless grin and infantile
explorations. She chuckled in amusement as he held his foot and tried to
suck his big toe. Diane tickled him under his chin and said, "You're the
most adorable baby I've ever seen. Aren't you, honey? You're sooooo
sweet, mommy could just eat you up! Mmmmm!"
She nuzzled his chest as if she was going to eat him and he cackled in
delight. Diane decided she would turn his den adjoining the master
bedroom into a nursery. He wouldn't need a den or his alchemy books now.
She'd sell his books and get baby books she could read to him; something
like Dr. Seuss and Winne the Poo. A rocking chair would be nice too, she
could cuddle him and read to him at night before she gave him his
bottle. "He's such a sweet baby, he deserves to be pampered.", she
thought, caressing him fondly.
She'd fill his nursery with the nicest baby furniture money could buy.
"And toys too," she thought, "I mustn't forget toys!"
She smiled, thinking how cute it would look when she got finished. She
fondled his cheek gently with her fingers and smiled with understanding
as she saw his mouth make unconscious sucking movements. "I'll need to
get some baby bottles and nipples.", she thought. "He's not old enough
to drink milk from a glass; he needs baby formula in a bottle."
She got up and laid him down on the bed while she got dressed to go to a
twenty-four hour grocery store. She buckled him into the front passenger
seat. They stopped at a convenience store on the way and she went
inside, purchased a small package of disposable diapers and came around
to the passenger side of the car. Diane opened the door, put the diapers
on the floor and opened the package. She unbuckled Philip and laid him
on his back on the car seat. "Let's get you in some real diapers before
you have an accident all over my new seat covers."
She removed his makeshift diaper and rediapered him, saying, "Isn't that
better, sweetheart? Is baby comfy in his dydee?"
He gurgled gaily and she sat him up and buckled him in the seat.
"Momma's going to get you a baby seat tomorrow, honey. You'll be a lot
more comfortable in a seat that's made for babies."
She closed the door and got in the driver's seat. They continued to the
store where she bought the diapers, baby food, bottles and formula that
were on her list. He chortled and blathered while sitting in the baby
seat of the grocery cart, delighted by the pretty colors and shapes of
the baby goods hanging on the racks. Philip pointed to the opposite
aisle and she saw that they sold baby T-shirts and feeding bibs, as well
as pacifiers, feeding plates and spoons and changing supplies. She put
several T-shirts and feeding sets in the cart. She also stocked up on
diaper changing supplies. By the time she had finished in the baby
aisles, the cart was two-thirds full.
She finished buying the rest of the food on her grocery list and checked
out at a stand with a young male checker. She didn't want to answer
questions about why she was buying a full basket of baby items and an
eighteen-year old boy would be too inexperienced to think that it was an
unusual purchase. Diane loaded the groceries into the car and took him
out of the cart and buckled him into the front seat. She looked through
a bag and opened a package with a pacifier, then put the pacifier in his
mouth to keep him occupied on the way home. She drove home and took in
the groceries, then returned to the car and got Philip. "I'm absolutely
got to buy a playpen tomorrow!", she told herself. "I can't continue to
leave him in the car while I unload groceries."
She sat him on the floor while she put the groceries away, then picked
him up and went to the stove. She held him on her hip while she warmed a
bottle of formula in a quart pan full of water on the stove. Diane
carried him to the bedroom, sat down in her rocking chair and sat him up
in her lap. She offered him the bottle of formula, which he grabbed
eagerly from her hand. He surrounded the nipple with his mouth and
suckled hungrily. Diane smiled at his behavior with maternal patience
and understanding; she was pleased by his healthy appetite. She held the
bottle for him while he nursed and then burped him when he had finished
half of the bottle. They sat and rocked for hours, the mother and her
baby, delighting in each other's company and affections. Later, as she
drifted off to sleep with her infant son Philip cuddled at her side, she
had realized that she hadn't loved her husband half as much as she loved
her sweet little baby boy.
Finis coronat infans