Dr. M - Matchmaker

When scientists perfected life extension, all around the globe, humanity embraced the transformation—our final rite of passage to become an ageless species.

We rejoiced at our new Age of Immortality.

The conversion required irreversible surgical treatments—such as gene editing, nanotechnology, blood transfusions, and artificial replacement organs.

We claimed in a new saying: “None shall ever die again. The disease known as death holds no dominion over us.”

All true, except on the rare occasion when immortalizing struck some individuals with a terminal creeping genetic sickness.

Yet, a much deeper problem manifested itself within the intrinsic psychosocial nature of immortal beings—a growing number of people became severely depressed.

They requested termination because they grew tiresome of existence; it was too much to bear. There wasn’t much to do that hadn’t been done before.

Some people feared to make choices, which could haunt them for as long as they lived. Immortalizing gave us near-perfect memories and instant recall. Every waking moment, we vividly recalled every detail of our life experience no matter how intolerable.

Our minds constantly replayed losing a loved one, being the cause of a tragedy, failures to succeed, or being responsible for someone else's misfortune.

Our memories took on a life of their own.

Recollection triggers were unavoidable—after all, living forever is quite repetitious. Despite colonizing the solar system, our day to day life was still fairly mundane.

Our scientists tried to remove negative memories but found that it made matters worse.

A single memory interdependently relies on a multitude of others, requiring more wipes, leading to retrograde amnesia—effectively killing one’s personality.

Not to mention, the gaps created awkward social encounters.

So the majority of us succumbed to reexperiencing all of our past emotions for eternity.

But not everyone coped with the constant bombardment of their recollections.

A new trend emerged—to play executioner—to control one’s lifespan.

Suicide rates rose to epidemic proportions, surpassing the sum total of all deaths centuries before life extension was ever invented.

So our lawmakers made it illegal to kill oneself.

You might ask, "What difference would it make if they'll be dead?"

It made no difference to the dead, but the lawmakers responded to this by punishing loved ones. The closer to the offender, the more likely they’d suffer. Anyone who conspired to aid or knowingly allowed suicide faced punishment.

In time, the suicide rates nearly vanished, and yet, despite the risk, certain individuals resolved to end their existence.

That’s where I, Dr. Matchmaker, came into play.

I developed a technological loophole for termination without any trace of responsibility.

I worked in an undisclosed location under disguise.

My patients were sent to me while they were put to sleep. Their destination kept a secret from them. They awoke for our first and only meeting.

I still vividly recall the first session centuries ago …

————

My assistant spoke over the intercom, “She's ready.”

“Please send her in,” I replied.

“Good day Dr. M, I’ve come here to terminate my life.”—She began to unmask.

I covered my eyes—“Stop! I’ll allow you to reveal yourself, but for now, you must remain anonymous. I mustn’t know who you are until you become my patient.”

“I’m confused. They told me you terminate people without a trace.”

“That’s correct, but you must swear that you’ll uphold your end of the deal. By removing your mask, you'll be making that committment..”

“What deal is that? Can I know what the procedure is? Will it hurt?”

“No. And yes. I'll not lie, it might be excruciating, but after a while, you’ll no longer exist. And that’s what matters, doesn’t it? It’s not like you’ll remember what happened. You must decide for yourself how important it is for you to die. I’m not a counselor.”

“That’s true!" Her voice cracked up. "I can’t stand this grief. It’s more painful than any physical suffering. My life is a non-stop nightmare. I keep remembering him. Every time I see someone’s child, I relive that horrible accident.”

I interrupted her— “Say no more and just decide.”

The anonymous person stood silent for a moment, then raised her hand—“I swear to go through with this.” Then, she revealed her face.

“Come with me.”—I gestured for her to follow.

We entered my lab, where the body of my other patient lay unconscious on a slab.

“This is Robert Stock. He’s dying of the rare creeping genetic sickness, caused by the same technology trying to make him immortal. It's incurable. His body shall painfully and slowly decay inside out.

“He’s spent his entire life imitating his father, a successful space-mining entrepreneur, but he now desires to be more like his mother. Around your age with two children, she divorced his father. She became a writer, living in the peaceful countryside, raising her kids. “

“That’s incredible! That describes my life exactly! Except I had 3 children, but my son died in a tragic accident. It was all my fault ...”—Her voice cracked up again as she wept.

“Indeed. Quite the coincidence? When our system finds a match, both subjects are brought to me ...

“Mr. Stock worked as an angel investor, living alone, and did quite well for himself. But he said the hustle and bustle and loneliness made him wish for another life. All his money will get transferred to you once he takes over.”

“Takes over?”—She looked puzzled.

“Yes. You swore to your agreement. Your consciousness will be swapped. You’ll terminate as you requested, with his illness, and he’ll take over your life.”

“I, I, I don’t … know”—She stumbled backward.

“It’s too late to change your mind! If you break our agreement, you and your loved ones will suffer a fate worse than his. We’ll report your identity to the authorities.

“Step into the chamber so we can proceed ...”