Chapter 20: Final Entry

It never ends. It never ends. For as long as I have been running, I have only considered my decision a thousand times. I will consider it a thousand more. My face turning pale, my knees shaking, and the hurried sprint of a threatened animal. Such a memory keeps my eyes wide at night and into the morning, my mind unable to parse the meaning. I remember this again and again because somewhere in my being I want to know why I did what I did. The curse of consideration is not going away. It is not the worst curse to be left with.

When I was a kid, I hated toys. I’m told I didn’t even go near the things, no matter if they were pretty dolls or futuristic robots. I didn’t break them, throw them in the mud, or even give them as much as a dirty look. I ignored them. What I did do, every chance I got, was steal. I loved stealing. I loved the texture of the bills in my hand, the shine of the jewelry, and the fact that my cleverness allowed such things to be mine. I loved the shiver it sent down my spine. Toys were the antithesis of my passion—gifts meant solely for me for no reason other than the charity of adults.

Looking back, I was a somewhat predictable criminal. I assume many kids exhibit some criminal behavior, but not many do so in a consistent and ruthless manner. There was no school to send me to, to rehabilitate me, and perhaps that was for the best. I wouldn’t have done well in such an institution. I’m left with my life, as dreadful as it might be.

Here I am, in an undisclosed country, surrounded by unique scenery, writing about the one good thing I’ve done in my life. How pathetic is that? My day-to-day is no longer a story I can tell, for if I do, I will be tracked down and arrested. It all began and ended with Amahle, with Perma Tech. Who am I kidding? In all other stories of my life, I am the villain. For a coward like me, I could not handle such a burden. This story is my curse and my blessing.

Therefore,

Detective Henrietta was as jolly as ever when she realized she could hold something over Anders’ head. She was instrumental in making sure he held true to the deal of making how Perma Tech worked public knowledge. Her jolliness only waned when the city offered her a job, which she promptly declined. It was not her home nor could it become one, that metropolis of human innovation. She moved back to her cramped apartment soon afterward, content to never deal with the likes of Echo City ever again.

Anders tried his best to keep the wheels turning on immortal technology, but it was a fruitless endeavor. The world knew how it could be done, and so it was only a matter of doing it fairly. He had nothing to gain by funding the research, and as a rational man, he didn’t. Instead, he focused on building his company in other directions. The reception was not positive at first, with the public learning about his shady actions. So, if humanity was bound for eternal life, he first made sure they would love him the entire time.

There had never been such an organized and expensive campaign to improve the opinion of an entity since newspapers were the only method of learning about war. His methods were sometimes subtle, other times overt, but always effective. ‘Antler’ said with a scowl or a grimace, in a few years, was said the same as one might talk about their favorite flower. Anders had erased the unwanted history so thoroughly from the minds of the masses that it left me wondering if he had done this many times before.

What hadn’t been erased was the fervent desire to live forever. Humans who died were now missing out on the ship coming for all of life. The sadness and grief became anger and annoyance, as those alive knew one less friend would join them on the voyage. They began to say and think things like ‘Just stay alive long enough’. What a terrible sight it has been, to see the disfigurement of loss.

Ah! Not just that, but the change of society as well. Each member, equipped with their own sense of importance, now building a society of arrogant children, who would never age and never learn.

Anders Askeland, through his persistence, was a world leader once more. What I did was lost to time and the slow fade of memory. At the end of it all, perhaps it would be only me who remembered what I did, and perhaps that was all I needed. I helped Amahle, I helped humanity, and I helped myself.

Amahle, oh Amahle. I do not know where she has gone, what she has done. I do not know if she is alive, or if it is yet possible for her to be dead. After her genius maneuver to save humanity from the encroaching grip of Antler, I never saw her nor heard from her again. It could have been part of the deal with Anders—a personal sacrifice for the greater gain. I can imagine her making such a decision. Even considering it makes me feel worse about my mediocre attempt at good.

This is not what is important. Just as one victory does not mean the work is done, there remained fallout. Humanity could envision their lives as never-ending, free of pain, and a newfound fear of crippling debt. It took all of three years for the religious to abandon their professed love of death in favor of Perma Tech. The only remaining critics were soon to be dead, so their words didn’t mean much to the rest.

I went to the market this morning, in my beautiful undisclosed location. I met with vendors and purchased what I needed for the next week. I had grown accustomed to this routine, making friends with those that might give me discounts in the future.

It was this morning that I saw a man stumbling and falling, only to get up without a scratch. The velocity and angle of the fall meant that he should have been bleeding some amount, but there was not a drop. It had finally arrived, the day humans began to turn. I was not looking forward to this day.

I left the market without purchasing anything, wondering the whole time how soon those I had befriended would choose to live forever. I wondered if those I knew before had already done so. Henrietta would initially decline, as she does to everything, but was she someone who was okay with dying? She was the kind that acted sour even when life was sweet, and part of me hoped she would be like that forever.

Will would undoubtedly choose to be immortal. My friend, who was likely working for someone he admired, would consider it a weakness to not be impervious to damage. He would be right. It was a weakness, and people hate weakness. How I would like to see my friend, who would be hesitant to call himself my friend after all I did, for one day.

I went to a cafe where I was a regular. In it, I found people discussing the recent incident of a man who could not bleed. I sat down in the corner, in a wooden chair, observing them all. All these folks might be here one hundred years from now, happy as ever. I shook my head.

“Here you go,” mumbled the new server. She hadn’t yet warmed up to me, or perhaps she was nervous.

“Thank you,” I replied. I came here so often that I didn’t have to ask to receive my pastry and drink. I studied what she gave me. Who would be eating in a few years? I laid my eyes upon the patrons of the cafe, all born thinking they would die and now knowing that to be untrue. They appeared happy.

You might wonder why I am writing this, other than my intense boredom and fascination with making others think better of me. I am writing this because, though I am no philosopher, I am conflicted about the technology that is coming to you all.

To live forever is to either be cursed with your guilt for time eternal, or to slowly forget what was interesting about your life. I suppose most will take the gift anyway, out of fear of dying. It isn’t a terrible choice. Maybe you can deal with your guilt in the time you’ve given yourself. Maybe you can be content forever.

I went back to my home once I paid and tipped. That leads me to now, sitting here in the dimming light. I wish to see those I care for again one day. They might look the same as they did before, but many years may have passed. Their injuries healed, their bodies fully rested, as though they had been treated in a futuristic hospital. Such a dream isn’t meant for me. I am uncertain about most claims, but one thing I know is that I will never be at peace with myself. If I continue running, I will soon crawl the entire way with the burdens on my soul.

I will recall those brief months in Echo City, helping a woman I just met protect people I didn’t care about. It doesn’t erase my past, but it eases the pain. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but what I share with the rest of humanity is that we all do not know that much.

THE END.