So I pictured receiving an invite for a wonderful opportunity at a stranger's corporation headquarters on Park Avenue. His secretary hussles me into his office before I introduce myself. Imposing mahagony desk, deeply stained oak panelling, casual hangings of alternating modern and Baroque paintings, Egyptian burial statuettes, and billowing dwarf trees with rubbery dark rainforest green foilage. I face a sharply dressed, puckishly grinning, silver haired version of myself leaning back in his regal leather chair.

I am informed that I am not tripping. Indubitably I am interacting with an aged me.

It has come time for me to reap the rewards for entertaining offworld beings who have been voyeuristically monitoring my freak life since birth. I will take over as the executive of a unique company set up as a duck blind facade. Certain genetic human genome types are deemed the most interesting and continually replenished by a new birth to a terra female. The alien geeks in the lab have stirred up another spanky cocktail and its time for me to replace the senior me, and he will be taken to the retirement planet. He gives me some dap with a soul handshake and he's out.

Sentient beings have taken delight secretely witnessing my oft painful lifelong struggle, and now I can live like a king impy pimp for the rest of my days because of it. It's the most horrid thing I have ever heard and the most beautiful thing on earth.