The Eye of the Beholder

Death has always been humanity’s greatest fear. Even the religious, who claim otherwise, do not face their end without a twinge of fear, for no matter what any might say, we do not know what lies beyond the threshold: more life, nothing, or something we cannot imagine? No one, no one, knows.

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And so for all our history, humans have fought against this Great Enemy. We learned to delay death, to soften it, and even to snatch ourselves from its jaws—at least for a little while. But we could not cure it, could not defeat it.

Until we found the Fountain.

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The long-fabled Fountain of Youth was not a literal fountain, but a drug manufactured from some ancient creature found in the depths of the depths of the ocean. When certain parts of this creature were processed, they created a cure for death, and our war against the Great Enemy was over.

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The war against ourselves began then.

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Everyone wanted the cure, but there wasn’t enough to go around, and those that had it guarded it jealously. Not everyone deserved to live forever, we said. It is my own words that haunt me most: “Let us bear the burden of guiding mankind through the ages.” I did not want to be a guide, but a God.

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Pressure turns coal into diamond. It does not do the same to humanity.

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Global war destroyed us. It destroyed the earth. Only when there was nothing left to destroy did we put down our arms.

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What followed was an age we thought of as peace. There was no war, no hunger, no need, and people lived short, meaningful lives. The cure for death was long gone, but we immortals did not mind. We bore the burden of watching over humanity, and reaped the rewards of life without end. A paradise of our own making. We were too blind to recognize Hell for what it was.

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Long ago, we had discovered that the price of immortality was infertility. None of us could bear children. It was no matter. Until humanity began to die.

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Fewer in each generation. Sicker, weaker. There was no one to help them. The immortals were no doctors or scientists; we had no knowledge that could save the humans, and by the time we realized this it was too late to help. One by one they perished, until only we remained.

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Only we remain.

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Earth is a husk, choked on our greed and short-sightedness. We thought we had forever to fix our problems, but forever has arrived and we can do nothing. There is no life left here—certainly there is none in us—and I fear no way to restore it. One option only lies before us: to cure deathlessness. We must reawaken the Great Enemy, so that we can be taken and our suffering ended.

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I seek not forgiveness, but relief. For me, that is enough.