Clocks will stop. Calendars will disappear. We'll no longer mark the passing of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, seasons, or years. Sometimes we might say, "This day reminds me of spring. Remember spring, when the sun shone and flowering trees bloomed and pollen dusted the streets?" Some of us will answer, "Yes, I remember." Others, too young to have experienced birthdays, will look puzzled. While they may look young, or middle-aged, or old, they will not know their ages. People will still age, of course, but without history to mark the passing of time. "Live in the now," the sages once counseled, and we will indeed be living in the perpetual now. Once it was believed that life was richer lived in the present moment, with no thought of the past or future. But something will be missing in this story with no beginning or end, only middles. There will still be endings, people will die, but they will disappear into the uncounted yesterdays, their names and faces lost. I will be gone too, in some unimaginable tomorrow that will slip away before anyone else notices, before even I have taken note of the event.