By Julian Dores
The government announces: henceforth, Everybody Is Immortal. We gather to celebrate. My friend Oliver calls it a sham, says we should resist.
But they deliver. Every day a press conference: Today we recorded zero deaths. The country is in awe. Who knew immortality by decree was possible?
Flickers of unrest. We’re still dying, the protesters say. Lies. We Are Eternal.
Oliver disappears. He sends me a typewritten postcard pledging his support to our leaders. At last, the ingrate saw the light.
Years pass. Typewritten postcards litter the empty streets. I wave a paper flag at the TV and savor everlasting life.
Words create a visual image that can’t be erased. Horrific. “Typewritten” adds a layer of mystery and foreboding. Well done.
This is way too close to reality. I shouldn’t enjoy it this much. (Well done, is what I’m trying to say.)
I’m a bit confused by the story, but I can tell by the tone that the story isn’t supposed to make me great ?. Well done.
The scariest possibility you could imagine that reflects what’s happening today, beautifully woven into words.
If we stop testing people for death, the death rate goes to zero. It’s foolproof!
cool cool