Carl: William Cubby, age 22, deeply concerned with retaining his youthful vigor, his trim physique. This concern had made him a dedicated jogger. Cubby would never know if the jogging really helped. He was the first in a series of Chicagoans who were spared the ordeal of seeing their youth slip away… slowly.
Bella: Is there something you wanted to tell me? Something you’re ashamed of?
Carl: No, no, you see – I’m a newspaper reporter.
Bella: Oh, well, that’s not so bad. I’ll find you a girl anyway…
(Carl has promised the morgue attendants a television set.)
Gordy: If I’m not watching “Let’s Make a Deal” by the end of next week, there will be no more deals down here…
Manager: She’s probably right here in the building, in another apartment.
Carl: What, for two whole days?
Manager: Guess you haven’t been single for a few years.
Carl: I was never that single!
(Preparing to break into a suspicious site)
Carl: It seemed to me that such mysterious origins warranted what we in the press call… the midnight interview.
Tony: Carl, do you mind if I read the copy? After all, I am the bureau chief here.
Carl: Yes, absolutely, Tony, absolutely. Tomorrow morning, first thing I’ll spitball a few ideas at you…
Tony: Spitballing a few ideas is when you start a feature, not when you’re polishing it!!
Carl: No, no, that’s the way I work, Tony. See, I spit and polish at the same time.
Carl: Well, your temple’s ruined. According to Kaz, Hecate ought to be destroying you about now!
Helen: I don’t think you’re qualified to speak for Hecate. It’s you she’ll destroy. You had the stupidity to put on that ring. Imagine the feeling when your heart ages decades in a matter of seconds. And finally jams up like an old clock!!
Carl: (closing narration) I took some pictures, but it seemed pointless. The destruction of the room would be labeled vandalism or a faulty sprinkler system. I don’t need any photographs of Helen. (Carl walks to the center of the room, where a statue now stands where Helen stood.) You see, she would always be as she always was… cold, and beautiful, and unchanging. As a postscript I offer this bit of advice, should you ever find a ring, no matter how pretty or valuable, consider well before you slip it on your finger. You may never get it off again…