ive just finished 'the children of men'. its set in the dystopian future where infertility means an aging population and theres no more children left in the world. the ceromony where old people are forced to commit suicide is called Quietus. and obviously hamlet, to be or not to be, "when he himself might his quietus make". suicide. or to leave quietly, to go into eternal sleep, escape from the things we bare. the entire soliloquy is so beautiful i could cry. gosh this is so long.