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 interpretation 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!”