Immortality, Part 2

“So I understand some congratulations are in order,” Dr. Williams said. He stood up from his desk and walked over to the chair by the couch, pulling out the little notebook he always used during our sessions.

“Yeah,” I said. “You might think so. The Great Miracle. The Final Incarnation. The True Resurrection. Seems all sorts of folks believe this is a wonderful thing.”

“It sounds like you don’t agree,” Williams said. His tone was as carefully neutral as the décor of the room. Even the sounds and the scents were carefully orchestrated here. On most days, I found that intensely comforting. Today, it annoyed me.

“You already know what I deal with,” I said, my voice snapping more than I’d planned. “I have no idea what to do with the life I have. I constantly feel like it’d be better off in someone else’s hands. And now I get to face the idea that it won’t end? Possibly ever? Like hell I feel like it’s wonderful.”

“But surely this presents some more options. You have said in the past you felt trapped with the choices you have.”

“More options. All of them suck. I’m not an adrenaline junkie. I have no desire to follow mom’s footsteps and become a cop. Having ‘immortal’ on your resume just makes all the dangerous employers come out of the woodwork. None of that appeals to me.”

“Those may be the most obvious choices, but surely there are more.”

I stood up from the couch and started pacing. Williams didn’t react. It was a common habit of mine. “Tell me straight,” I said after a minute or two. “Have you seen anybody else who’s dealing with this?”

“Other immortals you mean?” Williams replied. “I have met some. I have done several interviews. It’s becoming standard practice for continuing education. You present a whole new series of challenges.”

“But you haven’t delved in deep, right? Handled them right after the Big Change? Helped them move on with their indefinitely-prolonged lives?”

“It isn’t that different from other major life changes,” Williams replied. “People are still people. And you are still you. That’s important to remember.”

“Remember?” I said, nearly shouting. “That’s the whole damn problem!”

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