Approaching the Infinite
2080. Some lucky pharmaceutical company invents immortality in a bottle. The era of Homo Deus begins, except for one lone hold-out.
They called him Fred.
-
There was never anything particularly special about Fred: average height, average looks, average brains. But somehow his genetic code, alone among all humans, was unable to receive the gift of eternal life.
Fred was 26 when he found out. He was 86 when the rest of the world found out.
People had suddenly stopped dying: many people couldn’t afford the serum, and accidents still happened – until the robots took over around 2130.
Then even accidental deaths stopped.
Fred was the last person who would ever die: the media smelled a story.
-
2140. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
‘Who is it?’ - Fred.
The second they heard him, they pounced. Dozens of news crews spilled into his flat like clowns from a tiny car.
‘Fred Phillips, did you know you’re the last man who will ever die?’
‘Ever?’
‘Yep. We just confirmed it this morning.’
‘Yep.’
‘When did you find out?’
‘About 60 years ago.’
-
An executive office: Fred’s advancing years stand out like a sore thumb.
‘Well, Fred, what we want to do is film you 24/7 until you croak.’
‘What’s in it for me?’
‘Immortality.’
Fred laughs. ‘Pull the other one, mate!’
‘Well, it’s not as nice as eternal life, but it’s still something: the last man to die – they’ll be studying you for centuries.’
……
It was a crude rig: last-generation drones and a team of editors in a van around the corner. Fred was old, so he didn’t really do much. The Old Sheila hadn't made it to the era of Homo Deus. After the first year, the producers grew bored of the project, and set up CCTV cameras with an AI editor cutting highlights reels. Fred lived on, much to the chagrin of the oddsmakers in Vegas or Monte Carlo The point of the exercise was to show Fred dying from natural causes, so euthanasia wasn’t an option. .... 50 years later, they were still at it. Fred was 136 years young: busy watching soap operas and listening to RNZ. He looked old, but not decrepit - medical science had continued to advance, despite the lack of need for it. He died munching a biscuit; choking on his tea. An alarm sounded. An android went over to the monitor: 'Fred's dead.' * 'In our quest for immortality, we sometimes forget the sacrifices that allowed us to live forever. Fred was the last human to ever die, and we're proud that he came from Aotearoa, though it does make us look like a bunch of yobbos.' - The news reporter spoke with a flippant tone. Just another puff piece.... 'Next up: are robot overlords our superiors? Find out more from our technology reporter [insert name here].' 👩
All The Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy is one of my favourite novels, alongside The Assistant by Bernard Malamud, Empire Falls by Richard Russo and The Matriarch by Witi Ihimaera. I prefer comics to real books -- I'd love to write a graphic novel, and that's how I want my book to feel, which is what I think the screenplay format would be effective. The comic strip is the spine of the book, but the screenplay is the meat in the essay sandwich. Plus the short stories. Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett is quite good. Better than Miller's Crossing, which is a loose adaptation. Non-fiction is most of what I read, though: some of my reader friends are surprised that I read fiction…