"So you're immortal?" One of my colleagues asked.
The young man continued to sit there, watching us all calmly as if he hadn't just made such a ridiculous and nonsensical statement. 'Really, immortal? He says he has lived for a millennium watching humans develop from cavemen to what we are now. What is John thinking?'
"Listen, John, we played along with this game far too long. It's time to drop the act. It's a good thought provoker, but you've taken this far enough." She sighed, and then she seemed to hesitate, trying to find the words to make sense of this: "You've told us you learned to fit into groups, that you'd leave before anyone realizes that you cannot age. So why tell us?"
"What do you mean?" The man appeared genuinely confused, somehow perplexed about why we would question him, given that he knows we are scientists. It's our job to question. Not to mention our age; I'm about 94 this solstice, and my friends aren't far behind. This is something teenagers would gush about; we old people are too rigid to believe in these fairy tales.
"She means, why share this with us? Why not continue your centuries-old pilgrimage across Vara quietly? What makes us so special? We are nothing but old fossils ready to die." I clarified, looking at John, who was wearing a medical staff outfit. He had taken care of us in this small building where we had all chosen to wither away together. We were friends for decades, the nine of us sharing breakthroughs, celebrations, tears, and regrets. We held a tight bond and decided to spend our final years together.
"I don't know, I guess…I'm tired… and ready to admit it, " The young man sighed. As I looked on in shock at his eyes, they were listless like someone with no goal, no home, nothing to call his own. He looked back at me, not caring about the threat I had made to him. "Come on… We're friends, right? You know me, do you believe me to be crazy?"
I paused as I looked into those dead eyes, "No…. not yet." I sighed. " You aren't crazy, child, but you look to be on the verge of it. You haven't denied your humanity yet, have you?"
"Yes," He says, letting out a shaky breath. He looked down at his hands, I could see them shaking. 'He's on the verge of a meltdown,' I thought.
"Living for that long must be torture, especially the way you went about it. Humans are social creatures, and you deprived yourself of that consistently on a cycle for years. You're in tatters currently, and you won't get any better from here on. You've damaged your psyche so masterfully, I'm sure whatever is counted as a soul is beyond repair in there." He looked up at me as I watched his eyes slowly descend into a madness that was hard to place, being consumed by guilt and pity as he looked at us. 'Us? Why has my perception of this event focused solely on me? My friends would have comments and questions on this matter. And they can't resist the urge to interrupt me.' Looking around, I noticed them with eyes focused and mouths moving as if to speak, but no words reaching me. I looked back at John, curious but confused. Patiently waiting for the man to come out of his thoughts.
"Yes, yes it is," He finally said in defeat. "I want to die- No, I NEED to die…I-I can't keep going on like this. It's like I'm walking into a vast expanse of darkness, and the only people that I see, I can't recognize. Everyone is a stranger to me." I watched as the calm young man I've come to know. quickly devolve into a manic episode, ranging from emotions so far and in between in seconds.
'Interesting' Is all I could think as I watched him scramble for sanity while continuing to try to reason himself into doing whatever he was planning to do, no matter how much guilt shook that tight rope between sanity and the void of madness he was oh so desperate to cross. He just looked so… "human."
He looked up at me. "What?"
"Human. Those emotions, that look, this is truly beautiful. In a morbid way, of course. I've studied the human mind all my life and have seen glimpses of this with patients, but right now, it's like you have your soul stripped bare to the world in anguish. Looking for something or someone to blame, but only finding yourself. You're living in a cycle, but you only manage to find the same answer each time." I looked at him, his existence was slowly proving a line of thought I've tried to research all my life. The soul. "I mean, it only makes sense, with where you originated from, that this would be the direction your mind would cope in. Cycles. Born amidst cavemen and learning from nature and its cycles. The seasons, life and death, growth and decay. Such a vicious cycle to impose your mind on, but the most human."
Clarity returned to his eyes as he looked at me and narrowed his eyes defensively as if I had just assumed how his mind worked, which I did. People don't take kindly to being stripped bare, especially when it doesn't match with how they view themselves, and a caveman who's lived thousands of years, even less so. We all crave to be unique, and the simplicity of the Empirical Language truly cannot encompass the soul, but I disagree. The soul is simple; it's just not what we wish to admit as we crave uniqueness to be understood, yet are not.
"You aren't angry," he said, almost making it seem like an accusation.
"Should I be? What you're about to do seems to be out of self-preservation. You've already convinced yourself, I can see it in your eyes. So, is there anything left for me to do?" I replied simply, with a calm look in my eyes. I leaned back in my chair. His madness has temporarily stopped for now, but his decision has already been made, it seems. I glanced at my friends and saw them standing and shouting indiscernible words at him, 'What a bunch of children.' I laugh to myself. 'But tru;y I'm starting to believe in this fairy tale he's weaved for us."
"I'm going to split my soul and have each of you consume it." He retorted, almost as if trying to get a rise out of me. 'He's confused by my calmness, maybe uncomfortable. This is probably not how he envisioned this to go.'
"Are you trying to scare me?"I smirked at him, which he ignored, too stuck in his own thoughts to pay me any mind. I stroked my beard as I contemplated the meaning of his previous words. "And why is that? I understand the need to harm your soul to finally die if your body can't be damaged. But, what's the need for all of us and these…theatrics?"
"My soul is too robust after years of experiences, having strengthened it. I need hosts with a strong soul and mind to hold out through the process." I waited, I knew there was more with how he continued to hesitate. "I…I also need to send your souls away so that there is no collateral damage to this world."
"Ah…," It was all I could muster. There was no logic in that final sentence. Or maybe there was, and I lacked critical information to process it. "Do what you need to do-"
I sighed and closed my eyes, and just waited for whatever he planned, to start. Or end as I -????????-
___________
I reviewed that memory in amusement as I thought about the absolute confusion of whoever finds and investigates our deaths, only to find corpses in a gathering having reached their end at the same time. I chuckled, opening my 'eyes' and looking around at the [Grey Void] we found ourselves in. Just continuing to walk, as that was the only thing to do for us. As we now 'stood' as tangible energy given form. What have we been condemned to?