You must think me uncouth. I have ranted on without even introducing myself as a proper gentleman should. Well, let me correct that now.
I was given the name Stephen. English history is dotted with figures named Stephen, all of whom have figured prominently in the history of the British Isles in some way – positively or otherwise. Throughout my long life though, I have assumed countless names and countless personas. It is not a game for me. It’s a matter of self-preservation. Several times in the past, I have had to hide my true self to escape persecution or discovery. The first I can deal with. It’s the second that I fear more.
I suppose I should explain something at this point. I know that I am immortal. But I do not know the how and why of it.
I am not a vampire. I do not crave blood in order to live. I eat the same kind of food that you eat. And no, I do not fear the sun. Although truth be told, I abhor being under its heat unless extremely necessary. And even then, I do so grudgingly.
So while I too am curious about what makes me immortal, a greater part of my brain is saying that I should heed the old adage about ignorance being bliss. I fear the answer. And I fear more the prospect of having someone provide me the answer after making me into a guinea pig. Some questions should not be answered. And I like to remain a little ignorant about a few things, thank you.
After that long rather long winded introduction, let me continue my story.
You might think it wonderful to live through centuries and watch the human race evolve or devolve over time. You might even consider immortality a gift. Let me disabuse you of that notion. Immortality is not a gift. It is not a blessing. It is a curse. What else can it be?
Immortality is a gift only to two classes of people: the foolish and the self-absorbed. Only the stupid would want to be alive for eternity without even thinking that the long years would eventually pile upon each other like waves on the shore – indistinguishable from each other. Eternity would be reduced to an unending parade of the same human foibles and weaknesses repeated in a perpetual cycle guaranteed to drive an immortal mad.
As for the self-absorbed, they are the ones who think that eternity is a venue where they can shamelessly flaunt and display themselves. Theirs would be an interminable procession of one reinvention of themselves upon another. Imagine spending infinity constantly moving from one contrived persona to another. For what? For the adulation of mortals? How hollow can a life be?
No. I see things differently. Immortality is perpetual solitude. No curse can be more terrible or evil than to be made to live hundreds and thousands of years with and among mortals, but completely unlike them. Nothing can be more chilling than to live ad eternam alone and unconnected with humanity. No curse can be more dreadful than an eternity of loneliness. Have you ever tried plumbing the depths of solitude? You might as well attempt to measure with your hands the breadth of the universe.
Such is the life of an immortal. The loneliness we endure is as expansive as the cosmos itself. And although an immortal may, when luck favours it, form a few meaningful human connections, they are just like the stars that dot the infinite vastness of space – few and too far apart.
Do you understand now the burden that I carry? Can you grasp now how empty the millennia have been? The memories have become as fuzzy as what you would see when you stand outside on a cold night and try to peer through misted window panes at the people inside. But the pangs of loneliness and emptiness have remained. And the pain is just as raw and throbbing as they were then.
To stave off the madness, I have learned to extinguish my emotions. It took a long time and much effort, but I have succeeded. What you see right now is a creature that will probably outlive the human race, but is completely without a trace of emotions. I am now nothing more than a thinking, sentient being, alive for eternity, but is without feeling or passion.
But was I ever different then? I was. There was a time when I felt almost human. There was a time when I knew love. There was a time when I loved.
