Note: I chose this week's topic. Mozart wanted to kill me.
Question: "If you could choose to live forever, would you? Why or why not?"
Imagine a stranger approaching you with an offer. One that logically you'll need time to think. In my mind, the stranger is a tall guy with looks that makes you shiver and think of danger. He'll give me a week or even a month of time to think of his offer of immortality. He'll leave with a gust of wind and a murmur, "Think hard,"
I'll be losing sleep, thinking and thinking. Listing out the pros and cons. I'll imagine I'll ask if the offer can be extended to a few select people. My parents. My brother. A friend or two. And perhaps, a guy I can imagine having a neverending torrid lover affair with. Basically people I want to live forever with.
Of course, the probability of my enigmatic stranger saying yes is as big as me joining Dancing With the Stars or wait, Miss Universe. If you need a figure, that will be a 0.00000000000000001 chance of a yes.
No, don't count the number of zeroes.
Living forever and ever seems appealing at a short glance. Imagine celebrating the arrival of the next millenium while you regale the story of how Y2K made the world all worried a millenia ago. Or telling a group of wide eyed children about the cartoons and pets you had over your life.
I'll be eager to try out commercial space travel. The rings of Saturn might be the top honeymoon spot someday. Don't forget the space stations with people living in it. With teleportation and jazzy spacesuits. And yes, even lightsabers classes.
An immortal won't be hampered with the limited time and having to make choices. I'll be able to get as much degrees as I want. I'll certainly get first class honours when it comes to the 20th century history. Heck, I'll be the leading professor in that field.
But then, I imagine an immortal is often lonely. I've read a trilogy where one of the immortal characters remarked how hard he tries, he can't remember how his parents and siblings looked like. Let alone any memories of them.
Do I want that?
Do I want that minutes before falling asleep yearning for my parents to be there with me? Do I want to struggle to remember the taste of Mama's cooking? Or the way lil bro would bother me? Perhaps I'll even say:
"I can't recall my childhood after living this long,"
Sad, isn't it?
I might get a sad look in my eyes when I tell about the first guy that has ever loved me and how I had to watch him grow old and frail, his love true till the end. Maybe I won't remember the number of times I cried to myself when my heart broke for the first time. That's good, true?
No. An immortal me will forever be lonely. Scared of getting too close and caring for someone who in the end, will die and leave me alone again. I'll put emotional barriers. Locking my heart somewhere safe so I won't have to cry at another funeral. I won't get used to it. I'll just be lonely and distant. Another stranger.
I could always marry and have children multiple times. And watch them die. What a recipe to be ruined.
I guess I have to say no to my enigmatic stranger. He'll look amused before shrugging his shoulders, parting with the warm imprint of his lips on my forehead and a whisper of regret. Perhaps he's wishing that he had said no when he too was offered the same thing ages and ages ago.
Being an immortal must have lost its fun after the first hundred years or so. He's just a stranger now in this everchanging world, looking and searching for someone to be immortal with.
To check out Mozart's piece, do click on here and spam him. I mean, read it.