In the brave new world of tomorrow, the beginning and end of life wildly differ from what we understand today. Not only are we saving on therapy and insurance bills for mommy and daddy issues – followed by a significant drop in sugar babies globally – but we’ve also realized that if everyone is raised equally by the state, then truly, no one is an orphan. It seems the future sapiens acknowledge the lottery of birth with actions. We’ve taken away the burden of child rearing from parents because as much as one can be trusted with their own life, no one individual should be trusted with the lives of the ones that come after them. All children are raised in the custody and care of the state, enabled by Artificial intelligence and technology. It’s actually believed by the masses to be quite objectively alright – you can fool people but you can’t fool data models, at least not in the future. This groundbreaking ideology extends even to the final curtain call; now or then, you get to decide when to bow out. The finish line is less sudden and blurred. In a world where grief remains a challenge, the pain of losing a 120-year-old echoes that of losing a 50-year-old just 15 years ago. The definition of the end has indeed changed, and with the breavement market research data in our hands, we’ve realized an expected farewell causes less trauma than an unexpected one, and that stands true even if you check out at 160 years old.
Our story today brings us back to Dave, or rather his father, John. John has taken the unique opportunity to plan his own farewell party. Today, all his loved ones sit in anticipation, ready to absorb the wisdom from the life he’s lived.
John, calmly grabbing the microphone, starts the self eulogy. “I always told people, when I’m gone, don’t mourn my loss, but celebrate my life. Little did I know there’d come an era where I’d get to tell you myself before I go. People! Don’t be sad. I came to life to live, and oh well, I am here to tell you that I have lived, my friend. I have lived more than I had ever wished for.”
“After losing Mary – my beloved wife, the mother of my two children – I realized being the sole beneficiary of these new-age medicinal miracles felt hollow. For some of you, this might sound strange. We grew children together who did not need to go to rehabilitation, we saw them walk their first steps, call our names for the first time, then only to become teenagers to hate us and to grow up to feel responsible to take care of us. Hence I fundamentally believe that I’m a man out of time. I thrived in yesterday, I loved yesterday, I knew who I was then, but I just can’t help myself to find me in today. I guess some of us, while getting to live this long, did not quite plan to do so….”
He continued, “I always said to my close ones, one day my time would come to shine, to get that promotion or to make that trip to Mauritius and try to understand what it was there that Robin Sharma was so obsessed about. Anyway, for many of the cliches of my time that have lost their relevance for the new sapiens, one until today remains unshaken. In the end, it’s been the ride that counts, not the exit you ought to take. What better way to write the final chapter myself? On my own terms and ways?”
“I grew up in a world where the entertainment of the century was waiting for your dad to come home not to beat you up and open the Radio to listen to the news. Then, we had a massive box bigger than your sofa, fridges and fresh nutrient delivery tube boxes to watch Conan O’Brien. Now, Apple has bought RayBan to sell you portable screens on your sunglasses at 10X the actual price. I used to try so hard to score enough points with my late wife to sneak off for a beer or two – or many – none adjustable 5% alcohol or more with loads of calories – with the boys or a football game. Now, a virtual meetup between your AI trainings can transport you to a football pitch while you are still within the walls of your house.”
“I miss those unfiltered, unassisted, and authentic human connections, savoring dangerously non-consensual but sequential irresponsible drinking sessions, and laughing at politically incorrect jokes that today might earn you a one-way ticket to a mental institution or what do they call prisons today? Rehabilitation institutions of the old days.”
He pauses, looking at the sea of faces before him. “And to those of you that envy my life and ask yourself why a man who does not need to worry about retirement, who has loving descendants and a good retirement plan, and perhaps another 30 years to go, makes a decision like this? I would tell you why. At one point, my soul kept growing old like it was meant to, but my body didn’t. When Mary left, I realized I just needed something more than youth to keep me going. There was just nothing more than what I already had. I’m not saying I am right, or that your ways are wrong. I’m just here to say, my subscription plan has expired. It’s time for me to check out.” With a light-hearted grin, he concluded, “And while I write my final chapter by my own hands, I want you all to know that I lived, I loved, and I found the meaning of life for me. Today, I would like to thank you all for making that a reality” – drops mic and heads to the euthanasia center.
