"Maybe." "You can't retire." I paused. When I spoke, my voice was quiet, not much more than a whisper. "I hope you're not saying you might interfere." He didn't flinch. "There would be no need for me to interfere," he said. "You don't have retirement in you. I wish you could recognize that. What will you do, find an island somewhere, spend time on the beach catching up on all the books you've been missing? Join a go club? Anesthetize yourself with whisky when your restless memories refuse to permit sleep?"