1 of 214

Write now Article Tools

A Gentle Good-Night

The doctor smiled impersonally, displaying perfectly symmetrical teeth. Ammar had no difficulty identifying his Professional Face, Model XNE398, Caucasian, manufactured and installed by Kamal World-Wide Enterprises, Second Start Division.

"The nanophytes are failing," the doctor announced. "Damage will be irreversible within thirty days."

Ammar shook his head. What was wrong with this idiot? He must have the wrong file.

Ammar's bioimplants were Plutonium Plus - the best, guaranteed unconditionally for a full century. They had served flawlessly for two hundred and sixteen years - a tribute to the scientific acumen of the Kamal dynasty. Ammar's grandfather had pioneered the war on aging with legions of mice, rabbits and guinea pigs. His father had patented the process and scrounged the funding for primate research. Ammar had been the first to reap the benefit. Not only was he the oldest man on earth, but he was the richest.

"Change must come to us all," the doctor said kindly, confidentially, leaning forward. "With immediate intervention, you should be able to experience many more years of productive existence. We have several attractively-priced options to choose from: our Daily Regeneration facility; surgical replacement of the nanophytes, cryostasis and neurological -"

Ammar leaped to his feet, smashing his fist onto the doctor's desk. "Shut up, you ass hole! I wrote that speech before you were born!"

The doctor flinched almost imperceptibly and pushed a button on his intercom. "Your negative feelings are quite understandable. I experienced similar emotional turmoil forty years ago -"

The nurses had to call the building custodian to help them pry Ammar's fingers from the doctor's throat.

"Tough one," the custodian told his wife over dinner. "It's always the ones who seem the strongest who can't handle it when their time comes." His own bioimplants were the "Bestvalu" model, guaranteed for ten years, fifteen for those who could afford the insurance. He had mortgaged everything to buy his current set, and was still making payments when they began to develop abnormalities. But he had never laid a finger on a doctor, no matter how uncaring he appeared. When the Final Malfunction came, he would enter the Columbarium quietly, without sedation.

* * * *

Ammar swiveled his chair towards the transparent wall of his office. The view was soothing: sky, mountains and grass, as if the city did not exist at all. He faced almost three thousand square miles of unpopulated

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Facing death?
We want to hear your view. Write now!