Immortality -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
He put both of his hands upon the table, palms flat against the table,
and leaned his weight upon his arms.
"Take a look at how they died," he said. "Every one involves accidental
violence. Some of them drove their vehicles too fast and, more than
likely, very recklessly. One fell off a cliff when he reached down to
pick a flower that was growing on its edge. A case of deliberately poor
judgment, to my mind. One got stinking drunk and took a bath and passed
out in the tub. He drowned...."
"Ancestor Young," Riggs said sharply, "you are surely not implying
these folks were suicides."
"No," Andrew Young said bitterly. "We abolished suicide three thousand
years ago, cleared it clean out of human minds. How could they have
killed themselves?"
Stanford said, peering up at Young, "I believe, sir, you sat on the
board that resolved that problem."
Andrew Young nodded. "It was after the first wave of suicides. I
remember it quite well. It took years of work. We had to change human
perspective, shift certain facets of human nature. We had to condition
human reasoning by education and propaganda and instill a new set of
moral values. I think we did a good job of it. Perhaps too good a job.
Today a man can no more think of deliberately committing suicide than
he could think of overthrowing our government. The very idea, the very
word is repulsive, instinctively repulsive. You can come a long way,
gentlemen, in three thousand years."
He leaned across the table and tapped the sheaf of papers with a lean,
tense finger.
"They didn't kill themselves," he said. "They did not commit suicide.
They just didn't give a damn. They were tired of living ... as I am
tired of living. So they lived recklessly in every way. Perhaps there
always was a secret hope that they would drown while drunk or their car
would hit a tree or...."
* * * * *
He straightened up and faced them. "Gentlemen," he said. "I am 5,786
years of age. I was born at Lancaster, Maine, on the planet Earth on
September 21, 1968. I have served humankind well in those fifty-seven
centuries. My record is there for you to see. Boards, commissions,
legislative posts, diplomatic missions. No one can say that I have
shirked my duty. I submit that I have paid any debt I owe humanity ...
even the well-intentioned debt for a chance at immortality."
"We wish," said Riggs, "that you would reconsider."
"I am a lonely man," replied Young. "A lonely man and tired. I have no
friends. There is nothing any longer that holds my interest. It is my
hope that I can make you see the desirability of assuming jurisdiction
in cases such as mine. Someday you may find a solution to the problem,
but until that time arrives, I ask you, in the name of mercy, to give
us relief from life."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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