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"How long has he been like this, doctor?"

"It's been three hours, now. I'm afraid he's suffered a major stroke."

"Will he survive?"

"I'd be surprised if he lasts another hour. It really took a lot out of him. One of the orderlies said that Quantos had apparently been seeing visions earlier. Just before he fell unconscious he just kept repeating, 'beautiful, beautiful,' over and over."

"Damn shame. Doctor Quantos was one of the best."

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***

Later that night, Doctor Henry Quantos had a dream.

He was standing on a high precipice again, holding on onto to the edge of the door, only now the doorway led into a huge, black nothingness with the sole exception of an ancient stone pathway leading off into the distance, which seemed somehow brighter, as if it could lead him somewhere wonderful.

He was not sure whether to go or not. He looked back, and he saw himself. His body, that is. His cheeks and eyes looked sunken in, as if he was already dead. His return could only mean a few short years of incapacitation. He knew a stroke victim when he saw one. He would probably never walk on his own again. He could certainly not practice medicine or work on any of his experiments any longer. He could not even be a father any longer. All he could do was breathe and watch life occur all around him.

Doctor Henry Quantos had lived a full life. There was no reason for him to remain. He looked forward and carefully stepped onto the first stone on the pathway. A chuckle seemed to emit from his ethereal body, and he let go of the door frame.

He stood there, wanting to look back but knowing he could not now do so. He could only go forward. He walked. And as he did so, it was as if the years fell away from him like scales. His 64-year-old frame, even in spirit form, seemed to become much lighter. He felt stronger, and his white hair grew into a rich, deep brown. He walked into the light.

***

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"Turn that damn thing off."

"Is it--?"

"Yes. Quantos. He's gone."

"A shame."

"Damn shame."

"Did he have any family?"

"Well, I know he has an adoptive son. He was married and divorced once, as well, but he hasn't communicated with his daughter for years. I'm not even sure he knows where she lives."

"Someone should tell his son, then."

"Careful, though: he's still quite young. Only 14 or so."

"As I said, doctor: damn shame."

***

Doctor Henry Quantos's adoptive son, Axel, was informed by telephone of his father's death. When a representative from social services came by the apartment building where he lived shortly afterwards, the boy could not be found. A neighbour of the family, one Mrs. Darrows, said to the social worker that Axel had left with his grandfather. The social worker inquired further, but all Mrs. Darrows knew was that Axel had told her that everything was going to be all right. Quantos was free now. He was free. Mrs. Darrows told the social worker this in a very sad tone. She felt that the boy had somehow known what would happen for a long time now, and that he'd been in mourning all this time until the doctor's death. Now that Doctor Quantos was finally gone, the burden of that knowledge was gone, and he could grieve in reality, yet still rejoice that Quantos's eternal soul was in a much better place.

The End.