It was so hot last night that I actually slept with my fan. No, not like that, like this:
I had just done laundry earlier in the evening, so I didn’t even bother putting sheets on the bed. I figured the bare mattress would be a bit cooler, and it was. All things considered, I give last night a 6 out of 10.
The Limited Edition contest (previous entry) ends TODAY at 11:59:59pm CDT!
Below, a continuation of the short story I started writing a while ago… if it sucks, let me know and I’ll stop.
Legend has it that the planet entered a state of instant, permanent peace when the news broke. All forms of struggle just ceased. Two of the biggest factors in human history, money and religion, became obsolete overnight. We had finally buried God.
One of the big, collective fears the human race shared as we approached the milestone of infinite life (people saw it coming for some time) was that it would be available only to the super-rich, people who could afford a stake in eternity. Essentially, the worry was that nothing would change: if everyone gets to live forever, clearly the planet would be overcrowded in no time, so they must be planning on regulating it or making it monstrously expensive or something. Hell, the place was already overflowing long before they discovered the treatment. I’m not too clear on the specifics, but I guess the Global Assembly of Superiors was one step ahead of us all — they rolled it out smoothly, and everyone got their forever injections.
I finished getting dressed, swallowed my breakfast, and carefully descended the stairs from my apartment down to the street. It was one of those summer days that instantly negates your hygienic routine upon your first step outside. It didn’t help that every nerve on my body was tense, but I’m certain the humidity would have had no problem working alone — my clothes clung to my damp skin as if they were just as scared as I was to go anywhere.
The sole regulation imposed by the GAS was that all citizens must reach age 30 before eligibility, and they must receive the treatment on their official day of birth. And, as I said, it was my 30th birthday, so just like everyone else I was scheduled to claim my reward for making it that far.
I watched my fellow citizens as I strode up the hill toward the medical center and was reminded why I was so frightened. These people were all so, very bland. The immortality treatment successfully rid us of death by old age and terminal illness. No more heart attacks, strokes, cancer, peaceful goings-in-the-night. People still died, though, “naturally” — no injection’s going to stop you from getting flattened by a bus or choking on your own vomit. The result? Our entire planet is covered with the most boring, play-it-safe people who have ever lived.
