Tithonus

“We have groundbreaking news tonight. Perhaps the greatest advancement in the history of medicine has just been achieved. Joining me now is Doctor Sharpe. Welcome, doctor.”

“Good evening and thank you for having me.”

“Shall we cut straight to the chase?”

“By all means.”

“You're holding something in your hand. What is it?”

“We call it Tithonus.”

“And what does it do?”

“It is a cocktail of proteins and enzymes that increases cell repair mechanisms, regulates metabolism, reduces oxidation, and resets the biological clock.”

“You just mentioned cell repair. Can you expand on that?”

“Sure. And that's the big thing here. This is not just a normal pill, but a piece of nanotechnology. Numerous little nanoparticles, some call them nano-bots, enter your system upon digestion and immediately engage in tissue engineering for when organs become diseased or simply wear out. They also target cancer cells and release chemicals to kill them. Of course this doesn't just apply to cancer but all known sicknesses.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“Well aside from the fact that exercise and diet are still important to maintain a healthy lifestyle and gene therapy needs to be coupled with this pill to slow down aging - aside from these things - we have essentially reached immortality. No one needs to die of natural causes from this point on.”

***

A half-drank glass of water stood resolute amidst a mess. Paper crumples formed a barrier around the beverage like gift-wrap, creating the illusion of an attempt at some sort of recycled junk-art endeavor. Sprawled out across the edge of the table was an emptied pizza box, its bottom half stretching out to touch the hardwood floor.

Will sat indifferently on his ramshackle couch, never even gazing upon his chaotic garbage gallery.

A sudden pair of idiosyncratic knocks at his door interrupted his morose meditation, though Will did not flinch at the unexpected disturbance.

“Come in,” he apathetically said.

Two individuals entered the pigsty. The first darted directly towards the resident while the second entered examination mode.

“Hi. Are you Will?”

“I am,” he answered without paying them much mind.

“Great! I'm Preventionist Lanza!”

“I'm Preventionist Euros. We're here to help.”

Will turned his head to take in the two strange encroachers. He rubbed his hand against his cheek as if he was surprised to realize he had facial hair.

“Help with what?”

“We're Suicide Preventionists,” Lanza boasted.

“Suicide Preventionists? What are you doing here?”

“You're suicidal,” Euros stated.

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are,“ Euros confirmed.

“No. I'm not.”

Lanza interjected, “You totally are! May we sit?”

Will looked over to the loveseat opposite the couch. It too was serenaded by slop and waste.

“Sure.”

Lanza and Euros enthusiastically looked at one another, surprised by such receptiveness.

“Did you hear that? He said we could sit.”

“An obvious cry for help,” Euros added.

As they carefully removed the scrapings to sit, Will gazed upon them oddly, unsure if they realized he clearly heard them.

“Messy place you got, Will,” Euros remarked in a deadpanned tone as the pair made themselves comfortable. .

“Yea, well, I'm kind of a genius, so...”

The preventionists looked at one another and after coming to the revelation that this was a joke, forced themselves to laugh. Lanza’s, however, proved overly excessive, reminiscent of a convulsion.

“Ah, that's funny,” Lanza remarked with a final chortle.

“I'm sorry, how did you find me?”

“Easy. Through the Suicide Algorithm,” Lanza said after regaining control.

“Mhm. And how does that work?”

Euros, while sitting quite formally, answered, “An artificial intelligence analyzes postings on social media sites to detect language and patterns that indicate if an individual is a suicide risk.”

“Uh-huh. And what does it look for?”

“People talking about wanting to die,” Lanza said.

“Suicidal ideation,” Euros added.

“Substance abuse,” Lanza included.

“Feelings of purposelessness.”

“Anxiety, agitation, being unable to sleep, or sleeping all the time.”

“Increased use of drugs or alcohol.”

“Strong feelings of pain, either emotional or physical. Considering oneself a burden.

“Feelings of uselessness.”

“Mood changes including depression.”

“Recklessness or impulsiveness; taking risks that could lead to death.

“Extreme mood swings.”

“Social withdrawal.”

“Feelings of hopelessness.”

“And lastly, feelings of being trapped, “Euros concluded.

Will had been ping-ponging his head back and forth but now simply glared at them in unison.

“Ironic because I feel sort of trapped right now.”

“You're not,” Lanza assured.

“We're here to help.”

“So which of those many, many categories did I fall under?” Will asked.

“The first one,“ said Euros.

“Seems sort of pointless to have listed them all off then, no?”

Lanza infiltrated the train of thought with graveness. “You talked about wanting to die, Will.”

“Right. And when was this? Because I can't recall ever doing that. I feel like that's something I would generally remember.”

Euros methodically replied, “August 23rd post: ‘I'm choosing not to take Tithonus. Ever. It's a cheat. Like Viagra. Or the Astros. I think I'll retain that one shred of what it means to be human, thank you very much.’"

Will’s eyes morphed into beady knots of disbelief.

“Wait. Let me get this straight. You two think I'm suicidal because I didn't take the immortality pill...”

“…Or apparently any other pill!” Lanza jested.

The preventionists broke out in hysterics while Will did not crack a smile. Their hilarity reached a crescendo and then died down to an eventual lull, allowing Euros to turn back to the assignment with a newfound sense of professionalism.

“That's correct. You're choosing eventual death over life.”

“Step one is admitting there's a problem. That's good, Will.”

“I'm not an alcoholic.”

Lanza appeared confused by this answer while Euros course-corrected.

“Can you tell us why you chose not to take the pill for immortality? It's kind of a big deal. Humanity has been trying to crack this one for quite some time.”

“I didn't want to.”

“Why not?” Lanza asked.

“I didn't feel like it.”

Lanza continued, “I don't understand. Almost everyone on the planet has taken it.”

“And that's where we intervene. Our job is to visit those few. Talk to them,” explained Euros.

“Sometimes we introduce coping strategies!” Lanza excitedly pronounced.

“Other times we help reduce the risk factors, if you can't afford your bills for instance.

“Most of all we give people hope and assurance! Hope for a better life and an assurance that any current issues can be resolved!”

Will inched forward for the first time in the conversation.

“That's very kind and noble of you. But allow me to give you my assurance that I do not tick any of those boxes.”

“Are you a conspiracy theorist?” Lanza questioned.

“No,” Will quizzically answered.

“Are you worried that the government is trying to control your mind and body through the nano-bots?” Euros asked.

“Should I be?”

The preventionalists looked at one another as if pondering this for the first time.

“Nah!” they simultaneously concluded.

Lanza continued, “We did have a few of those paranoid types though.”

“Mostly in the Midwest.”

Lanza took an imitative posture and recited, “We don't want your nano-bot kind around these parts!”

“These nano-bots are takin' our jobs!”

They exhaled concurrently, leaving Will once again stupefied at the seemingly surreal consultation.

“No. No, I don't think that's me,” he assured.

“Well that's a relief,” Lanza remarked.

“Then do you think you can tell us why you want to die...eventually?”

“Aren't there other moral and social issues to deal with because of Tithonus?” Will countered.

“Such as?” Lanza asked.

“Such as how do we deal with so many people living on the Earth?”

With a flick of the wrist, Lanza rebutted, “Eh, let's leave that one up to those in charge.”

With palpable sarcasm, Will said, “Yea, no, that sounds like a great idea.”

Euros leaned in and asked, “You do understand the severity of your decision, don't you?”

“Dying like a normal person?”

“Suicide is a criminal offense, Will,” Lanza empathetically explained.

“What are you saying!? I could go to jail for not taking the pill!?”

“Well, this is relatively new to the law but it does seem like a possibility,“ Euros revealed.

“Suicide is the destruction of ones own interests. You are intentionally choosing to end your life by your own hand.”

“How is it by my hand!?”

“The pill goes in your hand, Will,” Euros confirmed.

“You can't be serious.”

“We're just trying to help!” Lanza pleaded.

“Well you're not!”

Euros, in an attempt to maintain a calm cadence, said,” Maybe if you can just explain to us why you don't want to live forever and maximize your contributions to society, we can try and do a better job of helping you!!!”

Lanza and Will both looked towards Euros, the outburst still lingering in the air.

After a brief recomposing period that consisted of a deep inhale and exhale, Euros said, “Sorry. Long day.”

“Will, aren't you looking forward to growing elderly?” Lanza asked.

“Elderly? Elderly doesn't exist anymore.”

“How so?” Lanza probed.

“There's no people in later life! No wrinkles needed with gene therapy!”

Euros, now fully ready to jump back in, rebutted, “There's still later life, Will. Old age is just different from advanced age now.”

Lanza added, “The elderly are still all the wiser. Don't you want to pass your knowledge down?”

“To what end?”

“We can now simultaneously pass knowledge down while continuing to gain new knowledge,“ Euros said in what seemed to be an attempt at enthusiasm.

“That's counter-productive! People are just going to keep changing their minds! For all of time! There will be no consensus. No resolutions will ever be reached.”

“That's a pessimistic outlook, Will,” Lanza remarked with a countenance to match.

“Yea well, a pessimist is just an informed optimist, right? I mean what about that Japanese thing?”

“What Japanese thing?” Euros asked.

“You know, the thing where they ritually kill themselves by disembowelment. The samurai did it. It was a means to restore honor to themselves and their family.”

“Do you want to disembowel yourself, Will?” Euros asked.

“Because that would definitely be suicide,” Lanza confirmed.

“My point is simply that there may be honor in death.”

“Culturally sanctioned suicide is futile in the modern age,” Lanza stated.

“What type of honor are you seeking, Will?” Euros questioned.

“What functional madness is allowing you to kill yourself...eventually?”

Will felt a fury sweltering within.

“I'm human, aren't I? Consciousness is painful enough. We're the only animals that can shame and hate and blame and imagine our own death. That's part of our experience, isn't it? Why are you trying to take it all away?”

“Why are you so desperately clinging onto it?” Lanza countered.

“Maybe I want more than to simply survive!”

“What do you want?” Euros demanded.

Silence burst into the space with all of its restrained rage.

Will allowed his head to descend as he surprisingly found himself on the precipice of his couch. Introspection had bypassed his defenses and sniffed out vulnerability.

“I grew up on a farm - I know, not what you would expect. On that farm was a horse - Aquinas. He was the perfect horse, until he got sick. My dad insisted that we put him down to release him from his misery. He felt he was doing what the horse could not do himself. It was something I would want done if I were in the horse's place.”

Lanza, invested, asked, “Is that how you view this? Your dad is the natural passage of time - and you are the horse?”

“I don't know,” he confessed.

Euros studied Will up and down before asking, “What are you hiding from us?”

Will looked them both dead in the eyes; his moment of truth had arrived.

“Before the pill came out, I had someone. I had that someone. I was married. Skylar lost the battle right before immortality was an option. And I know no one is really into theology these days, and to be honest neither am I, but what if? You know? What if I could see Skylar again? Am I just supposed to move on? Because I honestly don't know if I can do that.”

A sympathetic hush covered the room until Lanza gently admitted, “That's quite the predicament you have.”

“We don't envy you.”

“We would certainly be having the same thoughts as you if we were in your shoes.”

“You mentioned honor before. For every person who would choose death over dishonor, there are hordes who would accept a tarnished reputation over a loveless life.”

“You talked about the concept of the elderly. Well Tithonus did something amazing for the elderly. Before, they were the most likely to commit suicide, especially after losing a partner. Pretty soon that will be a statistic of the past.

“Doing this for a living, you come to a few revelations. It turns out, suicide happens when we lose what we need most.”

“And sometimes that is another human being.”

Euros looked at Lanza and added, “Your other half, so to speak.”

“There won’t be many who will be able to feel what you are feeling in the near future. Humanity is about to make a leap in its understanding of evolution; of life and death. I suppose you have the opportunity to decide which side of the fence you wish to fall on.”

Will catapulted out of his seat and circled the couch that he so strongly clung to. He ran his hand through his unkempt hair, surprised at the length it had grown.

“Whatever. Give me the pill. No use in believing in the miraculous.”

Lanza and Euros cautiously looked at one another.

“And you're sure this is what you want? This decision came from you and you alone. We're not peer pressuring you?” Euros asked.

“No. You're not my peers. Give me the pill.”

Out from a pocket, Lanza removed a ring-size box. Upon opening it, a single pill presented itself. Will stared at the oval capsule of innovation. He swiftly walked over to Lanza and removed the milligram of immortality. His eyes darted towards the half-drank glass of water still standing resolutely amidst his mess. He wrestled it out of the plastic wrappings, held it up, and chuckled at the irony that an idiom for a pessimistic or optimistic outlook on the world at large was staring back at him, deforming his image through a distorted reflection. Will placed the pill in his mouth, downed the water, and swallowed.

After a moment, Euros said, “You made the right decision, Will.”

Will gawked at them. He was no longer indifferent for indifference proved inaccessible

“Feel free to see yourselves out whenever you’re ready.”

Will moved gradually towards his bedroom.

“Thanks for choosing life,” Euros added.

Will entered his room and languidly shut its door without looking back.

The two preventionalists turned to take in the apartment once more before leaving.

When the brisk air hit them, Lanza stopped walking.

“What's wrong?” Euros asked.

“I did something.”

“I know. We both did. We walked another potential jumper off the cliff of eventual despair.”

“No. I did something I never did before. I did something bad.”

“What did you do?”

When Lanza didn’t answer, Euros repeated the question, this time firmer.

“What did you do?”

“I gave him a placebo.”

Euros’ eyes enlarged. “You did what!? Why!?”

“Because what if he's right? What if the slightest possibility exists that he can see his Skylar again? And what if he's the last of us who can do such a thing? I'm not going to take that away from him.”

Lanza suddenly stood a bit firmer and, with a sense of resoluteness, simply asked, “Are you?”

THE END

Bio: Gregory Cioffi (SAG-AFTRA, AEA) is a professional actor and a published writer. His works have been published in The Feral Press, Mystery Weekly Magazine, Queen Mob’s Tea House, The Nassau County Poet Laureate Society Review, Little Old Lady (LOL) Comedy, Blood Moon Rising Magazine, Fleas on the Dog, The Five-Two, Aphelion, Paumanok: Interwoven/Transition, and Allegory Ridge. Many of his stories have been archived in numerous libraries including Yale University’s Beinecke Collection (Rare Books and Manuscript Library). His poem Confined But Commemorating, written about Memorial Day during the pandemic, won third place in the Nassau County Poet Laureate Society Poetry Contest. Greg is an Adjunct Professor of English at Long Island University, an Associate Professor of Literature & Composition at Post University, and he also teaches Creative Writing, Poetry, and Basic Acting at Nassau Community College.

E-mail: Gregory Cioffi

Website: Gregory Cioffi's Website

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