My Perennial Nightmare

If not for religious nuts, business most assuredly would have, um, died. Yes, I do believe that's the word I'm looking for: died. As it was, business had slowed down. People were living their lives to the fullest...there was the occasional accident that sent one of these new immortals my way, but not very often.1

I'm sorry, I think I'm getting a little ahead of myself. You see, my friend, I am...was...in the "body business." No, no, not the "people business," body - as in "over my dead..." Right! I can see by the look in your eye that you catch my drift. Modern contemporaries call themselves "funeral directors," some of the less pious call themselves "morticians." Me? I always liked the sound of "the undertaker" - he-he, yeah, that was me! Nothing like putting a cold, stiff one in the ground to make you feel alive!2

A number of years ago, those modern gods in white lab coats figured out our "Adam gene" - the strain in our DNA that caused us to age, caused us to die. Blessed heathens, got to love them! They found a way to slow down -- and eventually stop aging! First the rich and powerful, then made public, folks from all walks are now "Generation-I" - immortal. Hundreds, thousands of never-aging people running around, living perfect lives. Reversal of the gene also reduced illnesses, cancers, various other crimes against the flesh. Hospitals shut down or took on less personnel, many doctors now travel to third-world countries to help the less fortunate. For people like me? Oh, this was so much worse. If you only see maybe two-to-five deaths in a given month, the body-business is no business at all!3

Thank God for religious fanatics! A coalition called "The Children of Abraham," an organization uniting the "Big Three" - Christian, Jew and Muslim - together against the immortalization process, deciding that being immortal was against God's plan for humanity. As a whole, numbering in the millions world-wide, they'd vowed not to partake in the process. Every now and again I would see a "mortal" on my slab...The thought brings a tear to my eye, such joy were those days!4

It's okay to smile, I can tell by your expression that you found odd humor in my last comment. Yes, yes, I'll get to why you're here. Please forgive an old man his personal commentary.5

What did I say, two-to...? Five, right. Back in the day, in a city such as ours, that number in a week was okay, good, but not great - as far as being an undertaker...Things had to change, or else I'd be out-of-work -- well, not just me, but others in my profession, as well! I was thinking "big picture," here! In a nutshell, in this world of immortals, people had to die for me to make a living.6

When the world was young, I'd seen it all. So many ways people were killed...Auto accidents, hunting mishaps...He-he, there was this one man who was shot by an arrow in the...Oh, sorry. Right, so many ways people died. Guns were effective, but lacked the personal touch. Knives were personal, but some were way too aggressive. Strangling required leverage and strength. To poison someone close contact was needed, ensuring the victim would indeed be poisoned. Auto "accidents," such as brake failures, gas-tank explosions, et cetera, required some mechanical knowledge. The more I thought on these things, the more I opened myself up to - shall we say - sacrifice some for the greater good of others? Yes, for the greater good of us in the body business.7

Before you judge me, I did have my morals. I started with people that were already forgotten, a homeless person here, a prostitute there, people with no meaning or purpose. I would start in areas that were far from my jurisdiction, feeding my peers first, as to not draw attention, bringing suspicion that there may be someone preying on faceless streetlight dancers. Slowly the numbers grew, and quite honestly I forgot how many. As a dark blessing, the downtown streets were quietly being cleaned up, allowing the immortals to go about their lives undisturbed by drug dealers and beggars.8

This brings you to me, with your questions and curiosities. How did I get caught? Simple. I got greedy. After feeding so many of my brothers, I needed more for me and mine. I started hunting in my own back yard, taking a few immortals off their almighty perch. More than a couple of those a month tends to tickle some ears...Word started getting around about the killings, police officials started asking questions about the autopsies - did I find anything suspicious? I fed them a couple worms, but no real bait.9

Somewhere along the way I slipped up, I'm still foggy about that...I was following someone, a young blonde - heh, young, these days she was probably in her sixties! I obeyed all my hunting rules, blended in with the park where she was jogging, no shiny objects, no clunky shoes...Next thing I know I'm surrounded by a mob with badges! I knew I was caught, no need to fight it. The judge took one look at me, heard the procecution's statements and had me rise for the verdict: "Guilty of multiple accounts of murder."10

Before you sits an aged man, someone who's been around the block a few times. Like the religious nuts: for me, being immortal is against nature. The judge, noting that I'd not had the immortal procedure done, ordered my sentence: "Life, without parole - upon completion of the 'Adam gene' reversal process" -- such a beautiful person, his honor. Now my days are spent in a padded cell, with no sharp objects, praying for people like you to come hear my story. Oh, the joy! Such is my perennial nightmare, forever someone's idle curiosity, locked in a cage until summoned.11

Happy now? Get what you came for?12

Bug off.