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One day, nobody died; in the whole world.
For whatever reason, whether it was science or God, nobody died.
There were still car accidents, falling off ladders and heart attacks, yet nobody died.
If you were critically injured, you didn’t die, you just, drifted, in-between.
That was almost a month ago now. At first, it was a miracle. Nobody dying, no fear of death, knowing you could stay with your loved ones forever. Of course, there were the sceptics, but no one took any heed, they were too busy rejoicing. But then the problems began.
We didn’t know what to do with the people that were injured. Whatever had stopped us from dying seemed to have stopped the ageing process and stopped the healing process as well. We were now the people who would live on this Earth forever. But what sort of life is it, when you can’t stop having a heart attack because you can’t die? What sort of life is it, when you have a hole in your middle from a metal pole that won’t heal? What sort of life is it, when you can no longer switch off life support, and have someone drift off peacefully?
In this past month, we have seen hospitals become overcrowded with injured people and sick children who can no longer have treatment, but continue to have to live with their illness. So the government came up with a plan, make camps. Let’s create camps outside of the hospitals, in the fresh, open air where we can set up medical hospitals to care for the people who need it. And so far, this seems to be working. Of course, the people can never get better, but I think they enjoy being out in the open and being allowed visitors at any time of the day. My own grandfather stays at one of these camps; he went into a coma three years ago after an operation and never woke up. The doctors continued to tell us there was brain activity but he just seemed to refuse to open his eyes. So now he’s here, being looked after in a paradise.
I visit him every Monday after school, I think they’re going to cancel school soon, make it optional instead of compulsory. Seeing as we live forever there isn’t really a point to it anymore is there? Walking into the green field tent labelled C for ‘coma’ I spy my grandpa looking serene as usual.
“Hey Gramps.” I greet him, laying the wildflowers I picked over his hands. His skin is gnarled and rough from years of hard work, but comforting to me. It shows that he worked hard for what he had, he earned it.
“School was, again, boring but Katie and me, we’re thinking of going down to the river for a party this weekend.” He never replies of course, but it’s nice to know he’s listening all the same. As I chat on to him about my day and plans for the rest of the week I notice they’re wheeling some people from the other end of the tent out.
“Be right back okay?” I mumble to grandpa as I stand. The grass silences my steps as I head towards a nurse holding a clipboard.
“Excuse me? What are you doing with them?” She looks slightly surprised, as if she never expected anyone to be interested in some old people going missing.
“Oh, well nobody comes to visit them, so we have to make room for others.” This makes perfect sense to me, but for some reason I distrust her voice.
“Where are you taking them?” Her eyes narrow slightly as she replies,
“None of your business.” She turns and hastens away, following the procession like a lion stalks its prey.
I make my way back to grandpa’s bedside but can’t shake the conversation out of my head. Where else would they put them? Looking around, I see no space; every square inch has been covered in tents used for the upkeep of these people. Making my mind up I stand once again and head in the direction of the nurse. I try not to act too suspiciously so as not to draw attention as I slide around the trucks and duck behind barrels. It’s hard to know exactly where they’ve gone but there seems to be a pretty clear path through the centre of the camp. I follow it until I smell smoke.
I look up and there is the smoke, curling, stirring the clouds above with their putrid tendrils, almost as if dispelling the good dreams to replace them with the bad. My steps quicken, I just want to know where they went and then I can get out of here. I skid to a stop quickly after turning a corner for there; in front of me is the nurse, with a line of gurneys behind her, checking what I assume to be names off a list. As she talks with some men I notice a large warehouse in front of her and this appears to be where the smoke is coming from. My observations cease as the door to the warehouse opens and the men begin wheeling the people in. What on earth are they doing? Finally, the last person is taken inside and the men come out again. The nurse types a code into the square keypad on the door and then turns away. As I walk around the corner intending to question the nurse about the poor people inside in the dark an almighty roar erupts.
The nurse and the men have disappeared so I sneak forward to the small window in the door of the warehouse. I peek in and see all the people lined up, there must be thousands; what are they doing in here? As I think, there comes another roar and I watch in total horror as jets of fire burst from the walls burning anything they touch. Unable to look away I see skin char and melt off bones, all the while knowing that these people are alive, they can feel, they just can’t scream.
The process is over in about 10 minutes but I continue to stand there, seeing nothing but ash inside, such sparse remains of the people who were practically murdered in front of me. This is their solution. What sort of life is it, when you can’t stop having a heart attack because you can’t die? What sort of life is it, when you have a hole in your middle from a metal pole that won’t heal? What sort of life is it? Apparently, to the government it’s not a life at all. But they were still alive. This was cruel. This was unspeakable. Were we not going to find a solution to the problem of not healing? Science has made so many advancements lately! But no, they didn’t want to wait. Too many people were getting injured beyond repair; they were taking up too much space. They couldn’t work; they couldn’t do anything for society, so they had to go.
Mankind, given the gift of eternal life, had still figured out a way to murder.
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Something I had to write for English...
