"They can't give me a guarantee. You see, three of my ancestors died from accidents. The prediction of ninety years is based on the assumption that they would have lived a normal life-time."
"They make few guarantees. You know, all of you men are such babies at a time like this."
"Yes, but if it is eighty—then, I'll come out not a rejuvenated man, but just a handful of dust."
"Oh, that can't happen."
"Look at it this way." He paused a moment while taking in her youthful appearance. "From now on I wouldn't look much older. Just a little grayer and perhaps more stooped. Then, I'll have what's left of my longevity plus the five years this rejuvenation would clip off."
"Why, Howard, dear." Leah sounded shocked. "You don't know what you're talking about. An aunt of mine elected that choice and it was perfectly horrible. She drooled the last few years of her life and was helpless as a baby."
"Why didn't they use Euthanasia?" he asked.
"The courts decided she wasn't capable of making a rational decision."
He wiped his forehead. "That would be a long time off, darling. We'd have so much time together in the next fifteen years."