Face It

Adam was a man of routine; he prided himself upon it. He had the family, the house in the suburbs; a well paid job and a woman who loved him. He was the kind of man who felt immense pride in all that he had accomplished in his life. Every morning he woke at 4 Am, ate a light and nutritious breakfast and travelled to work in his spotlessly clean company car.1

However, at the age of forty-two-he saw the signs of old age creeping up on him. This bothered him immensely and looking into the mirror was becoming increasing difficult for him. His blonde hair was fading into a rusty grey and the wrinkles underneath his eyes were becoming more and more noticeable. He was starting to look like an old man and he didn’t like it at all.2

He tried to delay the inevitable. He worked out like a Trojan; he took care of his skin and ate nothing but the finest and most nutritious food. 3

Nothing seemed to work though and the inevitable signs of age continued to torment the poor desperate man.4

When he joined the company twenty four years ago he was the youngster, the boy with potential, but now he was just another ageing man in an increasingly youth obsessed work place. His colleagues were nice but the respect they once held for him was slowly evaporating. His wife reassured him, she really did love the kindness of the man and although she occasionally strayed she never felt the need, or desire to leave him for another life. He had two young children and they doted on him as only children can. To them he was their hero, but it wasn’t enough and Adam needed more.5

He scoured the Internet for lotions and tablets that promised eternal youth and as intelligent as he was he had been mislead many times by the latest ‘new thing’ or ‘breakthrough technology’. He pondered the dilemma and saw that there was only one solution that would yield results, plastic surgery. A nip and tuck here and there couldn’t hurt, could it?6

So Adam did his research, he was always a thorough man and although the price seemed high he was determined to get the best that money could buy. He informed his family that he had a ‘business deal’ to take care of and as he rarely took a holiday his manager was happy to grant him time off work. 7

He scoured the Internet and found a clinic that seemed ideal. Discreet and exclusive it appealed to him on every level. It would only take one week for the procedure, but he promised to phone his family every day. With trepidation and a sense of relief he booked himself into the clinic and counted down the days until he could finally feel young again. 8

Weeks passed and on one bitterly cold day he kissed his wife goodbye and waved a teary good-bye to his children. Six hours later he was at the clinic.9

It was a very bland building that Adam walked into upon that life changing day. The exterior was old, Victorian era perhaps. This pleasantly surprised him, nothing about the building said ‘clinic’ and Adam approved of this immensely. He recalled his first sexual experience, when he was only eighteen years old. Embarrassed and ashamed of his virginity he had visited a brothel ‘to get it over and done with’. He visited Amsterdam in Holland; picked a plain looking girl and five minutes later it was all over with. Money was exchanged; he shook her hand and then went back to his ‘normal’ university experience. There was no shame in the exchange, it was purely a business deal, and now as he walked into the building of the plastic surgeon he felt much the same way. Anonymous and clean, it was how he lived his life, it was just the way that things were done and shame played no part in his transactions.10

The waiting room in the office resembled that of a dentist or doctors. A polite, grey-haired lady of middle age took down his name, asked him to take a seat and he waited patiently for his appointment. After ten minutes of scrolling through a wildlife magazine Adam heard his name being called and quickly followed the aforementioned lady down a little white corridor. They stopped at a door bearing the inscription ‘Dr Rhys: Facial reconstruction’. She knocked twice and the door creaked open. Adam looked into the features of an elderly man who was gently chuckling to himself. It was difficult to accurately age the man, but his slicked back hair, slender frame and youthful enthusiasm was immediately appealing to the apprehensive patient. Adam shook hands with the happy man; exchanged pleasantries and walked expectantly into the room.11

One week later Adam returned to both his family and work life. In appearance he was much the same. The hair was still greying; the wrinkles as pronounced as ever, but something had changed. Everybody remarked upon it, his wife, the children and the colleagues who had once patronised him as a creature from a long gone age. He seemed renewed, full of ideas and energy, and respect spread around the office like he was an entirely new person.12

There was a spring in his step when he walked and he smiled like he had never done before. He made love to his wife with renewed passion and played with his children like a man half his age, but there was something missing.13

He forgot names, then apologised for his stupidity. His friends felt like he had changed, but he ensured them he was just the same old Adam that he had ever been. He paused before he spoke and his eyes rolled back into his head whenever he was questioned about the past. It was almost like he was struggling to remember, but why would he have to do this for the most basic of things? But most significant of all was his new laugh. Adam had begun to chuckle. At forty-two years of age he had begun to chuckle. 14

Nobody had seen him do this before. His wife his friends and especially his children were amazed, Adam never chuckled. Little did they know just how right they were about that. 15

To his dying day Adam did not chuckle. He died on that day in the surgeon’s clinic and in the end he got exactly what he paid for. He wanted to be re-born and he was, Dr Rhys did what he always does. He cut off the old and replaced it with the new. The new just happened to be an old man who went by the name of Doctor Edgar Rhys. 16

Six years later it was time for the creature to change once again. The Doctor chuckled as he pondered his next face, his next name and life to be lived. He always chuckled at the endless possibilities of a new face. 17