Gina filled my playpen with baby toys to keep me occupied and I sat amid the profusion of multicolored plastic toys trying to think of a way to communicate with my sister. It was hopeless. My deteriorating mental faculties were simply not up to the job. By mid-afternoon, ennui was driving me crazy and I began to idly play with the toys. I hoped that no one from the University would come to visit me. I didn’t want them to see the depths to which I had descended in two short weeks. They would have a hard time believing that I was the brilliant professor of physics that had made the breakthrough in the creation of temporal fields. My body and demeanor gave me the appearance of a none too bright toddler. I had begun to drool constantly. The only bright spot was that the baby food Gina served me at every meal started to taste good. I surmised that my taste buds were changing along with the rest of my neural structure. Either that, or I was regressing mentally to match my apparent age. However, the only evidence to support the later conclusion was my disturbing tendency to cry every time I needed Gina’s assistance so I discounted it.
The Day’s of his Lives Scene 64
