** One Hundred Years Later **

Despite having lost a lot of money, Lester still had enough to start up his own company. 'Jones' Solutions' it was called, a social enterprise, dedicated to helping folks in less-developed areas gain access to basic amenities like water and the internet. We continued to meet each other even after he got his regular heart back, and I had never seen him so happy. Nevertheless, there was no mistaking the signs of aging, and before we knew it, our biological ages differed by some twenty years. Eventually, he became too weak to leave his house and I began visiting him instead. One day, his housekeeper told me he had passed away peacefully in his sleep. He was always in bliss, and never once did he express a fear of dying. On the night he died, I could have sworn that Other Earth glowed a little brighter, like it was welcoming a new angel to the heavens.

Then, there's my life. I wish I could say it had gone swimmingly, but it hadn't. Jill was growing up to be a fine young woman, and she was diligently weighing the pros and cons of turning immortal. A few days before she reached the legal age of twenty-one, she was killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. Claire and I were destroyed. I spent a lot of money making sure the guy spent a very long time in jail, but it was yet another hollow victory. It didn't bring my daughter back and it also meant I never saw Claire again. She passed away at the age of eighty-five. At her funeral, I learned that she had saved countless lives and made thousands of families smile, no doubt spurred on by the death of our daughter. She was buried next to Jill.

It was not that I didn't think about Lester's words from a hundred years ago, it was just that it was way too true. Predictability was its own reward. Despite the pain I'd gone through, despite the loneliness I'd felt, the thought of facing the ultimate uncertainty stopped me from pulling my own plug. There were other things too. At this moment, about five percent of the world had undergone the treatment, a number kept low by the paid apathy of the right industries and the well-woven lies of some others. This five percent had helped make the world a paradise. Climate change was ancient history, along with many other crimes too heinous to speak of. It looked like a glorious future for humanity was all but certain, a glorious future that only the gods would get to see. That honor was too great to resist. 

But there are no gods, certainly not self-appointed ones.

It happened on a sultry July evening, not unlike the day Claire left. I was out for a hike through the woods near my house when I heard a gruff voice from behind me.

"Hey! You're that quant! That immortal quant, right?"

I turned around to see a tall man of above-average musculature, around my biological age. He was forcing his shoulders back, chin raised just slightly too high. As he began walking toward me, I felt my flight response perk up. I had been a little detached from the news lately, but I knew there was a group of zealots targeting high-profile immortals. They didn't think anyone should have eternal life, or maybe that's the tune they sing because they're not able to have it. Still, immortality doesn't protect me from being stabbed by fanatics. One could even say I had much more to lose.

"What do you want?" I said to him as I began backing away. He began walking faster and I was beginning to stumble.

"You're an abomination! A monster! I wanna kill you, you fool!"

That was all the confirmation I needed. I turned around and began running as fast as my legs would carry me. A storm was coming and the sky was getting too dark for comfort. Other Earth was concealed again by towering, stygian clouds. I wanted to run home, call the police, but home was the other way on this singular path, past my would-be killer. I could only run into further darkness, and death was catching up to me. It was a very bad time to not have my phone.

"You won't get away!"

The man was fast, and I'd been on the couch for the better part of the past hundred years. It soon became apparent that I had to change 'flight' to 'fight' in a few seconds. A rock by the path seemed large yet light enough. Just as the man was about to catch up, I swung my arm with the best pitcher throw I could imitate. By pure dumb luck, the rock landed right between his eyes. The man let out a shrill cry and fell to the ground, writhing in agony and dazed confusion. I could have run away then, but somehow, I didn't feel it was enough. I picked up the rock again and threw it hard on his face. The man became very still. The rain began to fall. I felt... nothing.

Nothing... Nothing! My mental processes began contorting about all the contradictions. There was a man on the ground, likely dead because of me. Sure he tried to take my life, but I didn't have to do the coup de grace. I knew I would have felt something a century ago. The man was a son, maybe a father, maybe a brother. I felt my mind turn off; a snap and a click nearly audible in my imagination. Unable to process a thought, I left my assailant behind.

Something happened within me that pouring July evening. I ran all the way back, back to the garage, where the century-old workbenches were falling into disrepair and decay. I saw flashes of my life with Lester, us working, laughing, playing around as we built the tech that made us rich. I felt... nothing. I ran to the living room, where my life with Claire and Jill had spun in sundry ways. I saw the happy, the sad, the joyous, the anguish. I could identify the emotions, but I could not feel them. I was like a color-blind person who could understand the different wavelengths of light, but couldn't get why some saw red and some felt blue. 

What was I becoming? No... what have I become?

I did not know anything, except that I had to do something. I'd left my cellphone in the living room, so I picked up the nearest one by the garage wall.

"Hello, this is Edwin Kang. There's an unconscious man on the forest trail... "

It didn't feel like I was the one talking. I was a spirit watching my body on auto-pilot, doing the things it would have done had my pride and fear not stopped it. When that was over, I collapsed on the couch. The housekeeper had just left, and everything was clean, everything was pristine. I thought about the orderliness of the place, how it could only last because someone was keeping it so. What if that someone were killed in a car crash, or attacked by a maniac on a remote trail...

It was decided that I had acted in justifiable self-defense, and I was not charged. My attacker survived, saved because I had called the authorities in time.

***

I'm not a psychiatrist, but I'm almost certain I know what had happened that fateful July evening. It was a result of living an exceedingly long life of lies. It wasn't that I have become hardened, but rather I have become numb. I may have eternal life, but I have been killing myself slowly for over a century. Now, there's almost nothing left.

But there is still something, and before it goes, I know I have to make a decision. Standing on the balcony, I looked to our silent watcher. Other Earth had not changed, and I knew it would remain as long as we thought of the distant future as a palpable reality. Despite its constancy, our reflections within it are blurred by the ripples of time. Perhaps it's a warning after all, or perhaps it's just a freak accident of nature, no one can tell. Maybe we weren't meant to stare at that thing for too long, as I have been doing. Maybe we were meant to look away before we formed too many ideas.

Perhaps... Maybe... It's time to make a call.

"Hello, I'd like to talk about my treatment. Yes, my immortality treatment... "

END