Sam Johnson stands at the counter, his weathered hands gripping the edge. His voice rises above the murmur of the crowd. "This is the tenth time you have cut my check in the last year!" Molly, the clerk, offers a calm, measured response, her eyes sympathetic but tired. "Like I have explained to you before, Mr. Johnson. The system is running out of money. We are cutting back on the payments so that everybody at least gets something." "What am I supposed to live on? If this keeps up, I won't even be able to buy dog food."

"I have heard that the government has a new program. I don't know what it is. All I have been told is: to ask those people who I think need it if they would like to hear more about it. Would you like me to put your name down?" "Yes, please." "Someone will contact you at the address listed on our files." Sam nods, and as he leaves, the weight of his worries lightens just a bit.

Sam forgets about the new program as the days blend together. The only constant is his anticipation for the next Social Security check, which he fears might never arrive. The silence of unanswered hope fills the rooms, broken only by the distant bark of his dog.

Joel Brinkman, the leader, introduces himself. "Mr. Johnson, my name is Joel Brinkman and this is Jennifer and John Wilkinson. We have come to discuss the temporary solution the government has come up with pertaining to the Social Security crisis." "It is a crisis alright. I didn't even get my check for this month yet." "I have your check right here. If you accept the new program you won't need it." "What do you mean, I won't need it?"

Joel explains the program, with Jennifer and John adding details. Sam asks questions, his voice wavering between skepticism and desperation. After an hour, he signs the paperwork, his hands trembling slightly. Jennifer hands him a glass, and Joel’s voice is gentle but firm. "Now, Sam, I want you to go into your bedroom, take off all your clothes, drink all the contents of this glass and lie down. In an hour we will come and get you."

In the back of Sam’s mind, before it regresses to match his baby body, a thought lingers. He hopes the system will be fixed before he reaches 65 again, but deep down, he doubts it. Outside, the sun continues to rise and set, indifferent to the strange new fate of those like Sam Johnson.