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lavoro pubblicato mercoledì 10 luglio 2013
ultima lettura domenica 13 ottobre 2019

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All men must die

di Winter96. Letto 975 volte. Dallo scaffale Fantascienza

Pubblico questo racconto in inglese, in quanto lingua originale in cui è stato da me scritto nell'ottobre 2012. Buona lettura...

If there is still some hope, if this decadent world can still be saved, I will entrust the experience of my whole life to these few lines, to make a future savior know what he has to do. My name is Lucy Bennett and I’m writing these papers in 2540, when the world population was 14 billion, but I’m sure it will be much more when you, my future reader, will be born. In 2112, some American scientists – at that time was still worth saying American – discovered the secret of immortality and, instead of letting it be some useless knowledge, they sold it to a pharmaceutical company, which decided to make some special aspirins to take twice a year to make people be immortal. Or, should I say, to make billionaires be immortal. Soon it appeared a caste formed by these modern “Highlanders” and people who sell them eternal life. This caste started to fight against the local government and in 2200 the whole world was the same nation. Time went by and there were more and more people living on Earth, so there was no room anymore for them all and almost the mortal people lived where Monet painted: “en plein air”. But no one seemed to notice it, as busy as he was in trying to make ends meet to be able to buy immortality for his own self, too. Two years ago, things changed. The new President was Andrew Jones, a mortal man who made money by writing books about History and who never wanted to buy the immortality pills. From his home in London, he secretly chose all men who didn’t care about eternal life and gave them the most important work in the MI6, which kept working as Secret Services. Nobody knew what he was doing between a meal with an important industrial man and a useless meeting of the useless Parliament. Nobody knew, but me. I was 29 at that time and I had been being married Jim Hawkins for three years. We were pretty rich, but still mortal. I had studied at the best university of the world and I had become the President’s personal secretary as soon as I graduated from it. After a year from Mr. Jones’ election, a horrible series of murders started. The worst thing was that victims were all immortals, but in some unknown way the murderer did kill them. Soon, I noticed that the afternoon before a murder, the MI6 boss always went to the President’s office and he turned on some loud, old music and I wasn’t able to hear what he was saying. (Now you, my world’s savior, don’t judge me because if I hadn’t the habit of listening to what my boss said, you would have never been able to read these papers that I’m sure will be essential for you.) The first times, I thought that it should have been a coincidence and I didn’t pay it much attention. In between, Jim and I were trying to have a baby and we had to go to a lot of hospitals to have the best doctors to help us. One day, it was 30th December 2539, I discovered I had got pregnant and when I went to work, I was impatient to tell it to Mr. Jones because he was a nice man who I thought would have surely been happy for me. I went to his office, but I stopped near the door. He was talking to the MI6 boss, but the music wasn’t as loud as usual. They were discussing about some poison to put into the special aspirins to make all immortals die. I was shocked and I stood there, crying. Some moment after, the MI6 boss went out of the room and, as soon as he left the building, I got into the President’s office. I still didn’t imagine that what he was going to tell me would have changed my point of view about the whole human conditions forever. ‹‹What are you doing? ›› I shouted ‹‹I heard it all! Why are you doing this? What about ethics? ››. He stared at me for some time, nodding, and then started to talk: ‹‹Have you ever wondered why people live on the streets? It’s just because they’re too many. And they are too many because of those foolish pills! People are not made to live forever. All things must pass, Lucy! You are telling me about ethical problems and I’m asking you: is it ethically right to live forever? Is it ethically right that there are the same people who had been ruling over the world for 300 years? Imagine, Lucy, if I wasn’t doing anything. They will keep doing it forever. They are killing people as much as I’m doing; the only difference is that I’ve never killed any innocent person! You want to have a baby, don’t you? Well, what if he lives in a world like the one you’re living in? ››. Those last words…It was like he understood in some way that I was pregnant.I got back home after my usual work time. It was 8 in the evening and the people who worked all day were getting into their small boxes to eat what they found in the rubbish and then to sleep. They didn’t seem to notice that they could buy food with money earned during the day: that money was to buy eternal life. They didn’t seem to notice as well that they were living in a worse way than animal’s one and that there wasn’t anything human in their lives. Then, for the first time, I realized that the President was right. I didn’t want my son to live in that way. I realized that there is no point in living forever. By the way… how much is forever? How long does it last? Do the immortal people know it? And what about you, my future savior? Do you know it? The days after, Andrew and I became friends. We started to talk about everything and I was getting surer and surer that he was doing the right thing. But, as a German philosopher said, as soon as some extraordinary man appears, the general mediocrity kills him. A week ago, I was talking to Mr. Jones when the MI6 boss came in. I went to a restaurant because it was lunch time. I knew what the President was probably talking about: the day before, poison he needed to kill all immortals was ready to be put in the pills they should have taken six months after, so I guessed he was saying that everything was right. When I got back to the office, I saw the MI6 boss going out and I saluted him, keeping walking. But all was silent; Andrew wasn’t listening to his old-fashioned music. I got why as soon as I came into the office: he had been shot. Probably, the men he put in the Secret Services weren’t so uninterested into being immortals… But now, the caste knew the problem he was trying to solve, and decided to solve it in another way: a new president was chosen and he said that everyone deserves to live forever, so the pills were going to be given to all citizens. There was something strange in that purpose, in my opinion, and I said it to Jim. From the day in which the President was killed, I’ve never been drinking, but Jim has and, as all people who did, he died. I got it: they said that the aspirin will be given by water, but they put in it the poisoned pills. That’s why, my future savior, I’m dying and all my hope is given to these papers. These papers and you. Now I have to tell you the last thing: do you remember about my baby? The day of Andrew’s killing, I ran home crying and I took a terrible decision: I won’t have made an innocent kid living in such a dirty, fearful world. I said that to Jim and he understood me. He has always been so understanding… I needed so much time to understand Earth’s real situation, but he did it so fast, just listening and trusting me. The day before his death, I went to the hospital and the doctors killed the baby who was growing inside of me. Forgive me, you soul of my never born son, look down here from where you are now and you’ll understand why I’d rather see you dead than to live in a world where nothing matters but living, and suffering, forever. And you, my future savior, now you know the whole story, but I still have something to tell you: look out from people who promise you eternal life, don’t be as the MI6 boss. Think on how painful, how absurd, living forever can be just to give death to other people. But I’m sure you still know it, if you have read my story until here. It’s your time now; I’ve done everything I had to. Now only you can make my life worth to be lived. My life, my future savior!, the life of a woman who’s breathing her last breathe at the age of 31 yea...



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