Apparently, my wife was named after a saint called Joan who was from an arc. I had never heard of her in all my lifetime and had no idea why she would be from under a doorway. According to my wife, Joan the saint lived a few hundred years before the Mist even came into our world. A lot of information before the time of the Mist was lost. Despite it being just sixty five years apart, only fragments remained from the knowledge of the older generations. Only now, when the world has regained stability are there any concentrated efforts at rediscovering and preserving them.

I don't know about this Joan of Arc, but my wife was definitely a saint. I can only imagine the doubts and fear going through her mind right then, but her strength to look at me with a smile ceaselessly amazed me. Professor Leah left us alone in a room to make the decision of whether I wanted to freeze myself while my parents took my daughter, Leila, to have a quick tour of the facilities with Agent Matthews.

They had left us in what seemed to be an employees lounge of sort. There was a small, circular, plastic table surrounded by chairs that appeared to be a place to eat. Beside it was a simple counter topped with a microwave, mini-fridge, and a coffee machine. A single potted plant in a corner provided the only sense of colour to the otherwise dull-white walls and colour scheme. Even the floor, while carpeted, was a boring shade of office blue.

The two of us sat in an out of place maroon couch beside the plant, Joan leaning her head against my shoulder. She was still in her work clothes. As a herbalist working in the Sun Dome, her white shirt was stained with patches of dried mud, as was her denim shorts. She had obviously rushed down from work as part of her hands had dried spots of dirt left, meaning she did not get a chance to wash them properly. Since the Mist came, plant life on the planet had dwindled drastically. People with knowledge of plants and nature became well-sought after specialists in an attempt to revive the world's greeneries.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked as I brushed back the fringe of her short dark hair. She was just shy a year older than I was at 31, yet her body, petite and lithe, was so much smaller than mine, her head at my shoulder at standing height. Sometimes I wonder how could such a small, fragile looking woman be strong enough to support me, especially at times like that, and I thanked everything from the sky to the earth for bringing us together.

I contemplated silently as she patiently awaited my answer. “I want to take the offer.” It had been barely ten minutes since we sat down together, and already it felt like I've had years to think it through. My wife had that effect on me, clearing my mind, calming my soul. “I don't want to live for two weeks, just to leave you and Leila behind. I want to be there, for the important parts of your lives.”

She looked up at me, my face reflected in her clear, hazel eyes. “Then go,” she said gently. And as if she read my mind, she continued, “You don't have to worry about us. There's less you can do in the next two weeks than you can in your next five days.”

“I'm just thinking, what about money? I have insurance that you can claim if I die, but I don't think 'cryogenic freezing' counts on anything.”

The look of concern on my face must have been crystal clear, for her lips were pouted in annoyance. “I told you not to worry. Besides, the Forum's willing to leave us enough money to last for a whole generation.”

“Wait, really?” I replied in disbelieve.

“Yeah, so go. Freeze yourself!” she said excitedly, jabbing me playfully in the arms.

I squinted my eyes in wary, “You just want the money don't you.”

A devilish smile stretched across her curved face. “Of course!” she laughed a playful laugh. A mesmerizing laugh, continuing her coltish jabs.

I could not feel her punches but I played along, raising my hands in a feeble block. She stopped suddenly, looking down at her lowered hands, fingers gripping each other tightly. Then I saw a drip of tear land on her wrist and I instinctively brought her into an embrace, her face buried in my chest.

Her sobs hurt me more than the Mist Poisoning ever did. More than losing my legs or my eyesight. More than the thought of being frozen in time. She let out a muffled, “Go.”

“You cannot wait for me,” I replied. I wanted to cry but no tears came to my robotic eyes. I had not asked about it, but apparently a trade off for my new eyes were the ability to cry. I wished they removed the ability to feel sad too. I repeated, “You cannot wait for me, understand?”

I felt her head nodding against my chest followed by a soft, “Got it.”

Burying my face in her hair, taking in the smell of fresh grass and flowers that had practically fused with her body and soul, I told her calmly, “Let's go get Leila.”

She took a few seconds to collect her breath. In between sobs, she nodded her head. When she raised her head to face me directly, her eyes were read from crying. In an attempt to cheer her up, I gave her my best smile. A lopsided grin she repeatedly told me was stupid. She chuckled and kissed me. She pulled apart and I leaned in again to steal a quick second one.

“I love you,” she said, her breathing steadied. Her strong gaze returned.

I couldn't help but smile. “I love you too.”

Three knocks on the door turned our attention to it. Professor Leah's voice echoed through from the other side, announcing, “I'm coming in!” Making good on her words, the door swung opened without hesitation or any consideration to our privacy and she walked in in strides. Agent G followed close behind.

Joan and I had struggled to untangle ourselves from out little cuddling session and I had a feeling my cheeks were reddening as the professor and the agent approached, an insinuating grin on her face.

“I see you two are making the best of this precious day?” Leah said. But her smile quickly faded as she apathetically continued, “But we've got to get to the point now. We don't have a lot of time. Being frozen doesn't mean you'll have any more than the estimated fifteen days. You'll still die once that time runs out.”

G, who was carrying two chairs over from the dining area cut in, “Hells, Prof, you don't have to go all doom and gloom on them.”

It hadn't really hit me just how dark and depressing her words were until G stated them. I must have flashed a look to convey my sudden 'enlightenment' for my wife tapped against my skull and called me a “Blockhead.”

“Anyway,” Leah pulled us back on track, “You have to choose five days for us to pull you out. It doesn't have to be specific dates. It can be events like your daughter's graduation or the day Game Station Ten comes out.”

“Do I have to make a decision on all of it now?” I asked. “Can't I just give one, go under, wake up and give another?”

She replied, “You don't have to decide all of them now but I recommend you have at least two or three. We don't know in what order events will unfold and can't guarantee it even will,” she held out a pen and a piece of paper. Simple equipments I felt for such an enormous undertaking. “But at the end of the day, when you wake up, let's not make it just to tell you your dreams have failed and you need to choose a new one, cause it'll take at least half a day to put you back under.”

The situation seemed to engulfed me like a fog. I reached out and took the paper and pen from her, mind a blank. On the way over in the car with Matthews and G, I had a definite list in mind. Now though, with the act of writing them down, I hesitated like the day I asked Joan to marry me.

Leila's college graduation. Her wedding. The 20th anniversary for my marriage. My parents' nearing their death. Those were the five dates I had chosen previously.

“Milton,” Leah said. I looked up from the empty paper that I had been staring at. “You have to choose.”

I'm sure someone, somewhere, is asking the same question. If you could choose to live only X days in your life, which day would you choose? And someone, most likely drunk, will answer something stupid or joke about it. Why wouldn't they? It's an impossible thing, which makes the answer impossible as well. Yet there I was, in the break room for a government branch about to have my body frozen colder than the poles, and I have to make that impossible choice.

Joan took my hand in hers and I look to her smile for guidance. With that gentle expression, she said, “The first thing that comes to your head.”

“The first thing,” I repeated.

I looked down and I had my answer. Written in black on white.

Leila's college graduation

I traced my fingers over my daughter's name. I felt disgraced for writing something that beautiful in my ugly handwriting. I took a small breath and jotted down two more lines.

Leila's 18th birthday

Leila's wedding

Looking to my wife, I let slipped, “Our anniversary-”

“Don't you dare,” she cut in. “Don't you dare waste a day on something otiose like that.”

I couldn't help but grin at her words. “Since when do you use otiose?”

“Shut up,” she playfully pushed me away.

I laughed. She laughed. When I looked back forward I was met by G's crooked grin at our antics. On the other side of the fence, Leah's eyes were filled with what I'd come to know as pity.

My smile slipping, I handed her the piece of paper. “This will do for now.”

Leah took the paper and pen from me and asked, “We'll have to do some paperwork.”

“No need,” I replied. “I'm gonna be dead in two weeks either way. Not much to lose at this point. Besides, I thrust you guys for some reason. And I'm sure my wife will kick all your asses if you don't hold up your end of the bargain.”

Joan backed up my words with, “I will, you know. But in all seriousness, you can leave the paperworks to me after he goes under. Time is of the essence right?”

Leah and G stood up from their seats and my wife and I followed suit.

Then G announced, “Let's go find your daughter.”