The announcement rang through the world. The trials of death, suffering and pain, were over. Disco Ball, President of the United States, stood tall as he announced to the world a moment of triumph for all humans.
He looked down on the multitudes before him and those he knew were watching him through cameras. This would be the most important speech ever given, and he was about to give it!
“The Bible tells us that God put a sword of fire to guard the tree of eternal life. Eternal life was something taken away from humans, never to be even tasted. Eternal life was the boundary between us and God. It was something to be given to us only if we did his will and proclaimed his greatness.
“After all our struggles, we have found the pinnacle, the holy grail, of life. A breakthrough in nanotechnology has given us a miracle cure. Every disease would be cured.
“But, we have found more than just a cure to diseases. We have found the secret to everlasting life. We have overcome the problem of death. Our quest is at an end. We have succeeded in attaining eternal life. The world has changed. Our world has changed.”
All it would take was an injection and all suffering would be gone. It was a magical solution, who wouldn’t want eternal life? Who wouldn’t want to end their suffering and pain? What we were denied was being given back to us again. It was ours to take. It was mine to take. I would take it.
All it took was an injection and we were guaranteed eternal life. Stations were set up at hospitals around the country, stations dubbed “Eternal Life” stations. Huge queues full of excited people waited. The stink of bodies pressed together was buzzed out of the mind by the excitement. After two days of waiting, I was nine people away from my injection. With sleeves rolled up, I entered.
Pristine white walls glared down at me in the room, as if to show that here we would be cleansed of our weaknesses. The sheer cleanness of the room was imposing. I received my injection and was sent out into a room filled with other patients.
I changed, I felt strong. I felt fresh as I hadn’t for years. Others around me were going through the same thing. Faces ravaged by the glare of screens were healed. Scars and wounds were gone as well. I left with the others, as homo superior, heirs to the earth.
Freg’s Coffe Café, my haunt. I stopped for a cup but also to have a chat with Dunbar. Dunbar was probably the only person who spent as much time as I did at Freg’s.
There he was, hunched over a cup of tea in his brown moleskin coat, with his face wet from the steam of too many cups. He had a rough face to match his rough voice. With a face like a grouchy Grizzly and the sheer size of him, you never missed Dunbar.
“Ah! Dunbar! Heard the news?”
“Could I not with everyone talking my ear off ‘bout it?”
“Good to see you’ve learned to cheer up. Have you gotten your-“
“No, can’t anyone ask something else?”
“You’re not excited?”
“You are?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“What’s there to be excited ‘bout?”
“Let’s see, no disease, no pain, and eternal life. You’re right, not much at all”
“Oh ha ha, that’s really sarcastic. No, I’m not excited.”
“Why not?”
“I’m looking forward to death. Why should I be?”
“Be what?”
“Excited.”
“Come on Dunbar! This is everlasting life, the fountain of youth!”
“That just doesn’t excite me at all.”
“You really do need to get excited more often then.”
“You should go and see Jasper.”
Father Cakes?”
“Yes, I see you haven’t heard the news,” Oh no! Here comes the teasing.
“…Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“You should find out by yourself, just head to church.”
Driving back, up-turned cars, dented cars, and bashed up cars littered the road. I suppose with the threat of death gone, nobody really cared for their safety anymore. I was speeding. So was everybody else. I was empowered by the force of sureness within me. I was indestructible. I was fearless.
Turn right, go past the park and take the left turn. 66, 6 Tibbles Street, I loved the irony of the church’s address, 666, the number of the devil. The feeling within the church was one of a constant struggle between both sides. Now it appeared the devil had won.
“Father, what are you doing?”
“I am burning the bibles.”
Father Jasper Cakes always spoke solemnly. He was the picture of solemnity, with simple clothes and a wrinkled face that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Just solemn. His chubby, bulldog face acted only to enhance his seriousness.
“I am burning the bibles,” he said with the air of someone drowning in happiness.
“You’re sick. You need to go to the hospital.”
“How can I be sick son, I cannot even die. I have been given the gift of eternal life.”
The raging fir of holiness crackled with the laughter of the devil. I stood there lost for words. Here was Father Cakes, the epitome of solidity and reliability humming to the Rolling Stones’ I Can’ Get No Satisfaction while burning bibles.
“You can’t do this. You…can’t."
I lunged to stop him but two other held me back.
“Will, religion was a great big scam. We have now challenged God, we are like God. We cannot die, like him. Face it, none of us knew if he was real anyways. Besides, he wouldn’t want us to gain eternal life anyways.”
The sky above boomed. But, if it was a chuckle or growl, I couldn’t decide.
* * *
Off they jumped, one after another. Each landed in a burst of red and a crunch of bones, the number on the scoreboard increased, one by one. Slowly, the pavement turned red, then the road, and finally the pavement across.
Two hundred nine…
Something wriggled, another twisted. The mangled bodies began to move. Broken arms rejoined themselves, crushed skulls rebuilt themselves. The whole mound moved as the corpses came back to life.
Danny Zbugz, the billionaire shouted, “Free drinks to all.”
Everyone in the street reached out for the free beer as more bones got broken in the stampede. Crunch, crunch, nobody cared, there was no lasting damage, why worry.
The beer was running out, it was clear there wouldn’t be enough for everyone. Bang! Bang! Another gunshot returned. Head were blown apart as people shot each other to get the last bottle of beer. The pavement grew redder, but nobody was permanently hurt.
I was disgusted and so was Dunbar. In the year since, scientists had managed to “inject” the substance into inorganic materials, so buildings were always spick and span, and your shirt never lost its button.
We watched it all. Through the giant three-dimensional screen in Freg’s, we saw the world grow mad as it enjoyed the harvests of eternal life.
We’d tried to talk to the President, but his secretary wouldn’t even pass on what we said to him. Disco Ball’s ratings were through the roof, an unprecedented 98% in approval ratings.
His familiar face flicked on the screen to give the slogan of his campaign.
“My fellow Americans, we are living the dream. Just remember, you still got to vote.”
Confidence oozed out of his face. Nobody predicted against him winning. Opposition only had a fumbler as their best candidate now that all their best members had switched sides.
One party rule ruled America. America ruled the world through its magic cure.
Yet, the world was sick. People shot each other in the streets, “Just for fun.” I myself had been shot seven times. Nobody did a thing stop it. All the offender had to do was say, “We, he isn’t hurt, is he?” and he would be left off scot-free.
I would rather die and take my chances with God than live forever in a world like this. But, I can’t. There’s no cure to kill me.
4 comments:
Well, a tad on the dramatic side. But I like it...
You remind me of one Beatrix Potter or Roald Dahl. LOL!
Wahaha. What if I said I didn't write it? But I did though.
wah. creatively sinister, my man.
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