Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THE TWILIGHT YEARS BY KIRK AND GAREN DRUSSAI _It was a new era--an era of practicality and cruelty, an era for youth.... An era of alarm, too, for people who were over sixty...._ [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Sydney Mercer stopped his pacing and listened; his head tilted expectantly. When he heard the elevator stop, he went with quick, awkward steps to the apartment door and opened it just a crack. "This time," he sighed with relief, "It's Eleanor." He opened the door for her. His wife breezed down the hall and through the open door. She dumped her armful of packages beside her on the couch as she kicked off her shoes. "Whew! What a relief!" Closing the door carefully, Sydney hurried over to her. "Ellie--I've been worried. You didn't tell me you were going to be so late. And when you didn't call--" "Nonsense," she said gaily. "It's only 6:15. Why, the stores are just now starting to board up. And you know the "A Cars" don't start running till seven." She smiled at him. "Would you get my slippers, honey?" He hesitated for a moment, and then shuffled into the bedroom. Eleanor stood in front of the couch flexing her tired toes. She had a small and rather dumpy figure without her high heels. And though her fashionably dressed body was usually molded into the latest silhouette, now in her more relaxed state she frankly looked her sixty-one years. Sydney came back with her slippers, and bent to put them on. "Thanks, dear, shopping just kills my feet. But, enough of this," she sighed, "I've got only a few minutes to get dinner ready before 'Manhunt' comes on." And she started for the kitchen. He followed and caught her heavily by the shoulders, his face stern. "Listen, Ellie--I don't _ever_ want you to come home so late that you have to take an armored car." He shook her to emphasize his statement. "But why?" she asked with genuine wonder. "They're safe enough. Edith and Ruth often take 'A' cars, and nothing's ever happened to them." He let her go reluctantly. "Ellie," he said gently, "I just want to be sure that nothing happens to you, that's all. We're at such a dangerous age now, with both of us over sixty. You're all I've got. I'd be so all alone without you." She thrust out her ample chest indignantly. "Sydney, the trouble with you is that you're still living in the past. You've got to keep up with the times. Sure, things are different now, than they were, say, ten years ago. But what of it? If life is more dangerous now, it's certainly more thrilling--and more intense, too!"