 How does Giles change with the knowledge of his aging?
Giles made the expected comments, smiled the proper smiles and greeted his staff by the right names, but it was purely automatic. But with the Procyon shuttle arriving yesterday, there was no telling what might turn up. They found it drifting half a light-year out and captured it. For eighty years now, they’d been sending out the little ships that vanished at greater than the speed of light, equipped with every conceivable device to make them return automatically after taking pictures of wherever they arrived. Giles dropped the report wearily and picked up the personal message that had come on the shuttle. GILES SNORTED and turned to the third frame, which showed a group picture of the family in some sort of vehicle, against the background of an alien but attractive world. He had no desire to spend ninety years cooped up with a bunch of callow young emigrants, even in one of the improved Exodus shuttles. The discovery that men could live practically forever had put an end to most family ties; sentiment wore thin in half a century—which wasn’t much time now, though it had once seemed long enough. Faint blur lines indicated it had been moving when the picture was taken. Earth was becoming a backwater world; no real progress had been made in two centuries; the young men were sent out as soon as their first fifty years of education were finished, and the older men were too conservative for really new thinking. “They’ll slow up when their populations fill,” Giles repeated his old answers. That missile reached Sirius in less than ten days. It took two accidents to get the thing back to us—and with a half-light-year miss that delayed it about twenty years before the Procyon shuttle heard its signal. Pre-setting a course may take centuries, if we can ever master it. Giles turned from the blank screen to stare out of the windows, while his hand came up to twist at the lock of hair over his forehead. Usually it was too easy to realize that, and the sight of the solid, time-enduring buildings outside should have given him a sense of security. Like an automaton, he bent forward, his other hand groping for the mirror that should be in one of the drawers. It was only two blocks to Giles’ residence club, but he had to stop twice to catch his breath and fight against the pain that clawed at his chest. Dubbins was at his side almost at once, with a hand under his arm to guide him toward his suite.
 He feels a new fondness for his son and family.
 He resigns to his fate, because he doesn’t know what else to do.  He doesn’t. He goes right back to doing what he’d been doing out of habit.  He feels a new fondness for his son and family.  He shows a much greater appreciation for every aspect of his life.