I almost longed for it.
I don’t know if it was my job, this stupid urban life, or if there was just something fucked up in that brain of mine, but I wanted to die. I have everything a person could ever need to live a comfortable life, and I still can’t find it in me to want to be here, doing this.
But I would have never actually done it. Maybe I knew how stupid it was, maybe I was just confused about what those feelings meant, or maybe I was simply a coward, but I would never have acted on that desire. But that didn’t stop me from thinking about it. From wanting it.
When I crossed the street on my way to work, I would close my eyes in the hope that some teenager on their phone or some morning alcoholic would jump a red light and give a quick escape. A painless escape that no one could have seen coming. An escape that would allow me to move on to the nothingness that awaits me without guilt or burden.
That was a month ago.
A couple of weeks ago, on May 18, 2027, a lab somewhere in Texas caught fire. Almost all the researchers working on the project that caused the accident survived the initial explosion but were left in critical condition. Most lived only a couple of minutes after getting to the ER, but some managed to hold on for a couple of hours. Those that could still talk were wailing like children. Screaming and screeching in blood-curdling ways that would scare the devil himself. The scientists begged the doctors to help them, but there was nothing they could do. They had been exposed to lethal amounts of radiation; it was just a matter of time before they dropped dead. And so, they did.
The story spread pretty quickly. It was the kind of thing audiences gobbled up. A mysterious accident that caused the unlucky victims to go insane. On top of that, as far as the doctors could tell, the only damage done to the researchers was physical, so them freaking out was some sort of psychological phenomenon. And as the story got bigger and more people began to dig deeper, less things added up. The experiment was done without consent, unbeknownst to the university that owned the lab, and the researchers involved hadn’t been seen on campus for over three weeks.
By the next day, every news station wanted a piece. They were clawing for any scrap of information they could get. But it wasn’t until an anonymous independent reporter snuck into the building that the purpose of the experiment was made public.
The reporter released all of the information they retrieved on an online forum later that night. The post included images of partially burnt documents, whiteboards with illegible writing, and what seemed like some sort of electric chair. But most importantly, it included the contents of a thumb drive the reporter found on site, saved from the fire by the rubber pineapple that encased it.
The moment that the data from that flash drive went public, the world stopped.
As it turns out, sentient beings are a lot more complicated than we believed. Consciousness is not a physical part of our brains but some sort of “intangible metaphysical organ” that our bodies nurture into existence. In essence, we have the scientific equivalent of “souls.” And funnily enough, making souls is simpler than destroying them, so our bodies just, don’t. The moment we die, our souls are released. Left to infinitely wander an empty void, deprived of all their senses. All but one.
Pain.
The only thing waiting for us after death is an incomprehensible, infinite amount of pain. There are trillions of souls wandering the void right now, experiencing an eternity of unfathomable suffering. There are no words that could even begin to describe the torture the dead are subjugated to. There is no sin that could justify such a mutilation of the spirit. There is no deity, be it God or demon, that could ever be so ruthlessly malevolent as to even entertain the mere possibility of this unspeakable horror.
It’s now believed that the researchers were engineering a device that would eradicate their consciousness permanently. Something that would have been seen as cruel just a month ago but would now be regarded as the highest form of compassion.
I now fear death again.
She has made her point. A reminder of her dominion over all of us. I can’t help but feel that if I hadn’t disrespected her in such a way, I could have spared myself, and all those over whom she reigns, her wrath.
I now fear the poison air that lies beyond my door. I now fear the day the delicate glass under my flesh inevitably shatters. I fear every step this rickety vessel takes and every breath I force down its rotting lungs.
I can feel her. Waiting. Looming over my shoulder. Mocking the precious little time I have left. The once-fleeting oasis of tranquility is now dissipating before me, revealing the unyielding desert of agony that lies ahead.