[ WP ] After an extended class action lawsuit , your character is about to receive a considerable settlement due to `` defects and mutations '' associated with early batches of the Immortality Serum .

Seventy-eight years ago I came here to sign a waiver and pick up a cheque. 
 
 That's all really -- someone would give me five-hundred and seventy thousand dollars and all I have to do is sign. I knew about the experiment, of course, but I'd done this before. Never for so much money, but it's all the same idea. There's half a chance that you'll get a placebo anyway and if the experiment kicks the shit out of you, at least they'll fix you back up again. Maybe even pay you a little extra for your trouble and your discretion. 
 
 It was my golden ticket. CASI, the Cellular Apoptosis Selector-Inhibitor. I do n't really know what those words mean. Nowadays everyone just calls it the Immortality Serum. All I needed to know was that the cheque would n't bounce. I should've realized when the fourth round of advertisements came out that there's a reason nobody volunteered. 
 
 Here I am, back again seventy-eight years later to pick up another cheque for ten times that. It's the same building, though just about everything has been replaced at one time or another. A few bits and pieces look deliberately out of place, old window frames, a handful of bricks left from a century-old facade. I think I'm supposed to be impressed. 
 
 A young secretary brings me coffee while I wait. She ca n't bring herself to look at me. She's too young, everyone here is. The experiments ended a very long time ago, I'm probably the first real-life CASI subject they've ever seen. She keeps her eyes firmly down at her desk. 
 
 `` He'll see you now.'' She's still looking down at her desk. I do n't blame her. 
 
 I step into the office, a dark and intimidating room, its walls lined with shelves of century old books leading up to an imposing desk before a mostly-curtained window. Behind the desk there sat a gaunt figure, sharply-dressed. The consummate lawyer in _his_ court. 
 
 `` Please, take a seat.'' 
 
 I sat. 
 
 `` I did n't see you at the trial. I was _very_ surprised to hear from you now.'' 
 
 There was a sly confidence in his voice. I wish I'd brought a lawyer. 
 
 `` Now, as you're aware, the Court has ruled in the matter of Alvarez vs. Grace Biotechnology Company. Each plaintiff in the class is entitled to claim the settlement amount in proportion to the scale outlined in the judgement. Do you understand?'' 
 
 I really wish I'd brought a lawyer. I nodded anyway. 
 
 `` Are you a plaintiff in the class?'' 
 
 I could n't believe he had to ask. 
 
 `` Yes, of course I am. Subject 23-SJQ9, administered CASI AX11.35a on January 7th 1936.'' 
 
 I have n't told anyone that for fifty years. Then again, nobody asked. 
 
 `` I'm aware of that. But are you a plaintiff in the class?'' 
 
 He seemed to hardly try to contain the contempt in his voice. 
 
 `` Have n't you checked your records? I was here, in this building, and maybe even this room at noon on January 7th 1936, and your Dr. Taylor gave me the shot.'' 
 
 `` Yes, that's right.'' He nodded, exasperatingly smug. 
 
 `` I'm 107 years old. Look at me, look at my face for God's sake.'' 
 
 He drew open the curtain but he did n't seem to look at me any closer. I had grown accustomed my face decades ago but somehow the light made me feel grotesque. I felt the horror that I'd seen in other people's eyes for seventy-eight long years. 
 
 `` Yes, we've checked the records. However, the action was brought by the class of plaintiffs who suffered defects and mutations as a direct result of CASI administration.'' 
 
 Could n't he see the scarred, leathery hide that my skin had become? Could n't he see the long since burst blood vessels seeping? The crimson sweat down my brow and cheeks? Could n't he see my ever-decaying, gangrenous lips? Could n't he _smell_ the death on me? 
 
 He could. 
 
 `` Have you suffered any defects and mutations as a direct result of CASI administration?'' 
 
 This is why I never got involved in the trial. I followed it in the newspaper, of course, but I never wanted to be one of _them_. One of the handful of surviving freakshows from the experiment, crucified by lawyers and plastered over the media. 
 
 `` Of course I have! Look at me for God's sake! You bastards did this to me. I want my fucking money.'' 
 
 I should n't have said that. I should have brought a god-damned lawyer. 
 
 `` I have here a copy of your signed agreement to participate in the CASI Program. Grace Biotechnology guaranteed the ongoing function of your vital organs. You're 107 years old, and I'll bet your vitals are n't a day over thirty. Scarring to secondary, non-vital organs such as the facial epidermis is a very small price to pay for what we've given you, John.'' 
 
 Nobody's used my name in a very long time. Nobody's really spoken to me or looked at me at all. And this sick bastard looks me square in the eye, calls me by name and tells me to say thank you for seventy-eight years of torturous solitude. 
 
 `` I want my fucking money.'' 
 
 `` John, I'm afraid you've wasted a trip. You're not eligible for a settlement. My receptionist can give you the Court's mailing address if you'd like to file an appeal.'' 
 
 I've hardly lived at all - the money ran out in the late 50s. I heard about the lawsuit fifteen years ago. It's all that kept me going. 
 
 I want my fucking money. 
 
 `` I'd hate to see you go home entirely empty-handed, John. Do you have a minute?'' 
 
 I look up at the door but still back at him. 
 
 `` Grace Biotechnology is conducting a supplementary study of CASI subjects. Your treatment has been remarkably successful - maybe the most successful.'' 
 
 I ca n't believe what I'm hearing. 
 
 `` We've collected a lot of data over the past 70 years. Might even be able to fix those side effects.'' 
 
 `` Fuck you.'' 
 
 `` We're prepared to offer you a very fair sum.'' 
 
 I do n't say anything. Maybe that says it all. 
 
 `` One million dollars, John. It's your golden ticket.''
