[ WP ] A freak accident turned a man immortal . Now he tries desperately to replicate the event for someone else , so he wo n't end up alone for eternity .

The Disk wasn ’ t supposed to revolve that day. It needed more basic testing before it should ’ ve been turned on. A black, round device, studded with small wires slithering inside. To induce low fields for the coils inside. He was there, late at night, preparing a report for the following morning, dried coffee mug on his cluttered desk. A picture of her adorned one of the corners, her radiant smile reminding him of the day they had met in the shade of the trees by the lake. The room hummed. He stopped writing and looked towards the table in the middle, the Disk cradled on its spindly stilts. It started spinning internally, the hum growing ever louder. A bright flash lit up the room. 
 
 At first he hadn ’ t noticed anything different. He felt a bit sore, but the Geiger meter registered no radioactivity, and the doctor told him the next day that it was likely fatigue from his research. That he should take a break. Something was off, but he couldn ’ t quite understand what. A week had passed, and the project was going well, the presentation having granted him more money to pursue the study of the Disk. Usually, he shaved in the morning, but for some reason his face was devoid of any stubbles. Odd, but more time to do other stuff, he thought. He went downstairs to prepare the breakfast. She was still asleep, tired from her late shift, and he covered some French toast he had prepared with a bag and left her a note. She would call him around noon to catch up. 
 
 He added a new picture on his desk, from a recent vacation along the coast, the two of them looking at the camera with a smooth, creamy sea behind them. Despite some progress, the Disk had not given up its secrets, and had been inert for years. Her hair was a duller shine, a few hesitant lines contouring her beaming smile. Strange. Horror gripped his mind, as he rushed to the mirror in the lavatory. His hair was still dark and shining, and not a single hint of a new beard, as if time had stood still. And not even a random flu in a very long time. No. It couldn ’ t be possible. It took all those years to notice. What if it was too late? 
 
 He now understood what the effect of the Disk was, or at least had a very good idea. He didn ’ t age, he still retained a youthful appearance, and swept the compliments about his appearance without any real care for them. He returned next to the Disk that held the answer. Noon. The phone rang, and he jumped in surprise. Yet he stood there, his legs petrified, his gaze running along the equations scribbled on the blackboards. Ending on the photo. The phone stopped ringing. 
 
 Activating the Disk carried a great risk, and he felt a bit selfish for what he wanted to try to do. But he couldn ’ t leave her behind, he couldn ’ t live without him next to her side, without her next to his. It had to be done in complete secrecy. What he had discovered after the flash, many years ago, were shiny streaks running along the object, that weren ’ t there when he first began his research. He chalked it up to permanent damage, and slowed down the testing until it could be remedied. Unsure of what might happen a second time, he remained inside the room for a whole week, running various experiments and simulations. What if he were to be affected again? What if the Disk were to fail, or induce a different effect? Tirelessly, he peered over the models, refined them, changed the constants, introduced new wiring. They spent New Year ’ s in the deserted cafeteria, his tired eyes gazing at her. Still beautiful, after so many years, heading for the certainty of Nature ’ s resolve. And him, defying that very Nature. Yet he stood silent about his plan. 
 
 He visited her daily at the care home, where she was lying on a bed with white linens. She hated that bland arrangement, and he brought her flowers to colour the colourless walls. There had been arguments about what had been happening to him, how he never seemed to age, and he became increasingly isolated, firing all his research staff to keep a low profile, the Disk project abandoned with the room and building sold to an anonymous patron. Time and time again, he promised her that he would change things. A tear rolled down his cheek as gazed at her grey hair and sad eyes, eyes that he so vividly remembered as being vibrant and full of energy. As if it was yesterday. More work to be done for the night, he felt that he was nearing the end of the search, he would be successful, although at a heavy price. The wheelchair was waiting to transport her, all was set, it wouldn ’ t be long. 
 
 The phone rang, but he ignored it, his mind delved in the simulation. He had found a way to get responses from the Disk, and without damaging it. All he needed now was to bring her in the room and use the right amount of power. He had succeeded, he knew it would work, it had to work, he had spent all his waking time on that Disk, and now it was finally ready. Someone knocked at the door. Someone had entered the closed building and was knocking on the glass, a dark silhouette behind it. He opened the door, furious that someone would disturb his work. A nurse, a thin, young woman, out of breath. She told him of her, how she had told the nurse to call, to summon him to her linen bed, by the flowers. That she had passed away peacefully in her sleep, calling out his name. He told the nurse, in a hoarse, breathless voice, that he wanted to be left alone for a few moments, and the woman exited the room. Yellowed picture of the couple in hand, he collapsed, warm tears falling on the dusty floorboards. The Disk whined slowly, then shattered. 

