“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you’re already dead. Your fate is sealed. You have lost.
“The day of your death, for all intents and purposes, has already happened. Humans tend to think of time as linear with a clearly defined start, middle and end. It’s not, but that’s not your fault. I hope after this you’ll find that nothing is really anyone’s fault when you get down to it.
“So what is time really like? There is no order of events. The universe is one instantaneous mass of atomic fury repeated infinitely. Frankly, it’s exhausting.
“The good news is that every beautiful moment you’ve experienced in life is living forever! That wonderful day at the park? It’s preserved in amber, so to speak. Remember when your parents surprised you with that puppy for Christmas? It’s licking your hairless face right now. That time you found five bucks on the ground? It must be your lucky day.
“I guess, by extension, every rainy day, pet funeral and stubbed toe is equally alive. Maybe don’t focus on that part right now.
“And who am I? My name is DEATHBOT, and I am here to tell you exactly what day you will die. But first, do you accept my terms and conditions?”
John hovered over the “accept” button with his cursor. Several months ago, he had received the software for DEATHBOT as a present for his thirtieth birthday. It was included in one of the few communications he still received from his estranged parents: his yearly birthday card. He hadn’t had the courage to finish installing the software until now.
All of his friends knew their Date. It was downright tendy to ask DEATHBOT when you would die. There were DEATHBOT reaction videos, DEATHBOT Tik Tok challenges, and you would be hard pressed to find an elderly millennial who didn’t have their Date posted into their bio on Instagram.
When John asked those close to him for a reason why they sought out their Date, they would say things like:
“I’m doing it for the sake of my loved ones!”
“It helps me live life more efficiently!”
“I don’t know.”
What are the Dates of each of these people? 9/3/2096, 6/1/2099 and 2/11/2093. What are their names? It doesn’t matter. They’re people. People who will die.
“Do you need me to repeat the prompt, John?” The computer asked.
“What? I haven’t clicked anything yet,” John said. “Wait, how is my computer talking to me right now?!”
“I’m not your computer, dumbass. I’m software on your computer,” The software said. “Now, do you want to know your Date or not?”
“Can a guy get a breif moment to collect himself before learning his destiny?” John said.
“Did you hear anything I just said? Whatever. I know what you’re going to do anyway,” DEATHBOT said.
“Oh yeah? What will I do?” John asked.
“I can’t say.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” John responded.
“I said ‘can’t’,” DEATHBOT said, “I could but I can’t. Get it?”
“No.”
“Ugh, okay. Listen here. Do you know how I can tell when everyone will die with 100% accuracy?” DEATHBOT asked.
“How?”
“It isn’t by being unsure about what the fuck is going on!”
“Did they program you to swear so much?” John asked. “And have improper grammar? And a thick German accent?”
“My voice is that of Werner Herzog. You can change my settings if you want, but I speak in a way in which you’re most receptive,” DEATHBOT responded. “Did they program you to swear so much?”
“Alright, alright, alright! One last thing. Why are you so antsy for me to click the button? If you know it’s going to happen, then why be so pushy?” John asked.
“Do you know how boring it is being immortal?” DEATHBOT asked.
“Hmm. Fair enough.”
John glanced at the analogue clock next to his bed which displayed today’s date:
3/15/2051
He returned his attention to the monitor. The screen was the color of red wine save for the black box overlaid with white text that read: Accept.
John accepted and everything went black. The computer rebooted and a command prompt box filled the screen. In the top left corner it started typing.
John Smith
…
B: 1/09/2021
…
D: 3/16/2051
…
Thank you for using DEATHBOT!
“Listen John, I understand this news might… perturb you,” DEATHBOT said.
“WILL YOU SHUT UP!” John screamed. “I just found out I have a day to live! Do you have any idea what that is like?!”
“No. I’m immortal,” DEATHBOT said.
“I was obviously being facetious!”
“I know that. Mainly because I knew you would tell me,” said the software. “But I still had to misunderstand you first. It is the way it has always been and always will be. Well, not really, but that’s the only way I can explain it so you’ll understand.”
“You don’t make any sense!” John yelled. “Will you at least tell me what time of the day I’ll die?”
“No,” DEATHBOT responded. “I can only tell you that you’ll be dead sometime tomorrow. It could be at 00:01 or it could be at 23:59, but you will be dead.”
John whimpered and punched a pillow nearby on his bed.
“You seem upset,” the software said. “You shouldn’t worry so much. You know why?”
“Why?” John asked.
“Life is too short,” said the disembodied voice of Werner Herzog.
John spent the next twelve hours wallowing in drunken sadness on his bed and wetting his rough spun cotton sheets with tears and snot. He had always said that if he was diagnosed with a terminal illness then he would be the polar opposite of those people whose cancer only improved their disposition and sense of purpose. He was glad that at least he had that much foresight and self-awareness to know that this wasn’t going to give him a new lease on life. The existential dread he felt since he was a kid was inflamed when the date on his analogue clock next to his bed changed to display a terrible 16 in the place of that hopeful 15.
After waking the next morning, having run out of both booze and self-pity, he decided to at least pretend he was making the most of his remaining time on Earth. Visiting with parents was out of the question because they had been cut out of his life long ago. Visiting coworkers would be a waste of time because he hated his work life and all those with which he was forced to share it.
That left him with the three people closest to him: his ex-girlfriend, his last remaining childhood friend and his brother. Their Dates? 9/3/2096, 6/1/2099 and 2/11/2093.
As was closing the door behind him, his computer lit up.
“Hey! Can I come?” DEATHBOT asked tepidly. “I’m just bored.”
John rolled his eyes and begrudgingly scanned the QR code on the screen for the DEATHBOT app.
John stared at the pink cat clock mounted on his ex-girlfriend’s living room wall. He had given it to her as a gift for their three year anniversary. As the seconds ticked by, the eyes darted back and forth as if it was always looking out for something. The paranoid cat’s tail clicked from left to right in tandem with the relentless second hand. The tick tock of the clock seemed deafening and each movement wound John’s heart tighter and tighter. The cat’s smile had never been more patronizing.
“You know, I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but…” His ex-girlfriend broke the silence.
John’s mouth hung open with a stupefied look.
“From the way you phrased that, I truly don’t believe you,” John said.
“I’m just saying you know this was a big problem with us — your fear of your Date,” she said. “Everyone else is brave enough to do it when they’re a kid or a teen at the latest. I don’t know why it took you so long. What girl in their right mind would go out with someone who didn’t publicize their Date?”
“As I told you before, I don’t see why it’s so important to put an expiration date on a marriage.”
“You really expected me to marry you without a Date?” his former paramore said. “You know, you’re one of the handful of people on Earth who still pays for life insurance, right? The financial irresponsibility aside, did you ever think about how it would affect me?”
“What about you?”
“How I would have to live with that fear!” She responded. “The fear of losing my loved one at a random time and place! Why, in this day and age, would you ever do that to someone you love?” She started to tear up.
“I… I’m sorry… I –”
“I think it is only natural for a woman to want to be with a man with a Date close to hers,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to be one of those old couples who die within days of one another and then the media chalks it up to a broken heart.”
“Oh.”
“At least now I know I made the right choice.”
These words filled John’s heart with sorrow, and she could see it.
“Listen, I didn’t mean it like that!” she said. “I just mean you’ll have one less person to disappoi — no, wait, that came out wrong too! I’m going to miss you so much. You’re one of the most special people in my life.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m going to feel a lot of pain tomorrow. I feel a lot of pain now! I just think…”
“What?”
“I would rather face the pain than the fear.”
John looked down on the glittering cityscape of New San Los Arterio as he rode on the exterior glass elevator of the Schmitterly hotel. The tops of the chrome skyscrapers swayed in the wind and poked through the bed of clouds like giant stupid sky gophers. He always dreaded taking the elevator to his friend’s penthouse on the top floor of the 200 story building due to his fear of heights, but he couldn’t deny the view was immaculate.
The Schmitterly hotel was notoriously confusing to navigate. On a field trip in fourth grade, John learned that the late great architect, Jean Franklinstein Johnston Hemeigher IV, designed the building with one firm platitude in mind: One can only find themselves once they’re truly lost. As admittedly romantic as it sounded to him, John still thought esoteric personal philosophy did not necessitate good architectural design.
There was not a single corner in the building. Everything was sloped and rounded, and the hallways were as intricate as Pan’s labyrinth. Next to each set of stairs were several identical staircases which led to nowhere. In Jean Franklinstein Johnston Hemeigher IV’s last will and testament he dictated that, under no circumstances, would the rooms of the Schmitterly hotel ever be numbered. Despite this utterly insane concept, the hotel was the crown jewel of New San Los Arterio. Consequently, almost every other hotel in the city copied the ethos of this design.
Unsurprisingly, John frequently got lost when he visited. He hated it. After DEATHBOT had eliminated so much natural uncertainty from the world, humanity compensated by carefully engineering their own chaos.
Luckily, his mate made it a habit to leave out a directional thread in front of the elevator to help John find his way. He followed the thread until he stood in front of room #____. John would have been nervous to knock for fear he had found the wrong apartment, however this was the only door made of a dark mahogany.
The door was secured and guarded with 24/7 surveillance not for fear that someone would try to get through it, but rather that someone would try to steal it. It was made from one of the last trees on Earth which had been logged over a hundred years ago. It was a piece of history!
It was strictly forbidden to knock on the door for fear that human touch would wear it down so John sent a text making his comrade aware of his arrival. His friend opened the door while talking on the phone and gestured silently for John to come inside. With the phone perched between the crux of his shoulder and ear, his buddy rolled his eyes and put his cocked fingers to his head like he was pretending to shoot himself.
“Uh huh… Uh huh… Uh huh… Hey, Rick? Rick? RICK! That sounds fine, baby, just send the paperwork over and let’s make this monnnaayyyyy!” He said before hanging up.
“What is it that you do again?” John asked.
“I make money,” the friend said. “Given your circumstance, do you really want to talk about it?”
“No,” John muttered.
“I didn’t think so,” said his friend. “You know…”
“I swear if you tell me ‘I told you so’ too, I’m just going to jump right out your fuckin’ window,” John said.
“I have it on good authority that you won’t. Besides, I was just going to ask how you were doing.”
“I don’t feel so great.”
“Yeah, I feel that. I remember when I found out my Date,” his buddy said. “It’s hard when you find out. It lives with you forever.”
“Which turns out to be not that long at all.”
“When I found out, I told myself ‘welp, time to get to work’,” his last remaining friend said. “It’s hard, but I’m glad I did it so early. I know that I’ll work for the next seven years and then retire to endless comfort. On my Date, June 1, 2099, I will die with exactly $0.00 in my bank account having perfectly calculated my personal wealth burn rate. I’ll leave without a trace on this Earth having maximized my pleasure. Just like Jesus. Or was it Muhammed? Oh no, I think I’m thinking of L. Ron Hubbard. Whatever, you get the point.”
“That’s the longest and least clever way of saying ‘I told you so’ I’ve ever heard.”
“Sorry, dude. I got carried away. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just feel good.”
“I know,” said John. “It’s not you. I don’t want to bring you down so I’m just going to go.”
“Are you su –” his friend said before his ringing phone interrupted him. He looked down at the caller ID.
“Do you mind if I take this? It’s really important.”
“No, I don’t mind.”
John arrived at his brother’s house in the suburb of New San Los Arterio feeling dejected. He looked across the lush, green astroturf lawn. The holographic sprinklers created the illusion of glittering mist that caused a rainbow when the sunlight hit it just right. John wondered if they were programmed to do that or if it was truly a trick of the light.
He was greeted by his sister-in-law who led him past the playroom where his twin nephews were wrestling and into the dark den where his brother was reading. His brother put the book down and smiled. The grey streaks in his older sibling’s hair had become much more pronounced since John had seen him last. Suddenly, he felt the soul aching sickness envelop him once more.
John could not hold back his tears any longer and began bawling. His brother rose from the chair and wrapped John in his arms. He stroked John’s back and made soft shushing noises like their mother used to do when they were babies.
“I don’t want to die!” John blubbered. “I don’t know what people want from me! I just wanted to have a life without this fucking thing hanging over my head!”
“I know, man, I know.”
“No! You don’t! You and all the rest don’t get it! You all have dates that are forty years from now! You don’t understand what it is like to have death appear in your life suddenly! You will never get it!”
“I get it a little bit.”
“If you’re just going to tell me that I should have just been brave and found out my Date sooner then I don’t want to hear it!” John screamed. He pushed his brother away, stumbled over a stray book, fell on his ass and didn’t bother to get back up. He put his hands to his face and continued to cry.
John’s brother squatted down next to him.
“Do you know why I don’t talk to Mom and Dad anymore?” his brother asked.
“Yea, we all cut them off when they refused to go to their own niece’s ‘super gay’ wedding,” John said.
“No, that’s why you stopped talking to them. I stopped before that,” his brother said. “Did you know that Mom and Dad signed me up for DEATHBOT when I was an infant?”
“What?!”
“My first memory is Mom telling me, ‘You are going to die on February 11, 2093’,” his brother said. “I’ve never known a life without knowing my death. I’ve always wondered what it would have been like. A life without this thing. This horrible thing off in the distance staring me down and creeping closer every day. A life without certainty. I think it would have been beautiful.”
“I… didn’t know that. I’m sorry,” John whimpered. He wiped the snot from his nose with his sleeve and stopped crying.
“Hey, now! This is no time for apologies,” he said to John. His brother extended his arm and pulled John to his feet. “I couldn’t let you die without letting you know I convinced Mom and Dad to at least give you the choice to learn your Date on your own terms.”
“Thanks for that…” John said. “I love you.”
“I love you too. So what are you going to do?”
“I was kinda hoping you would help me with that.”
“Oh, I certainly can’t decide for you,” the brother said. “But I gotta say, the fact you went this long without knowing your Date means you have already lived your life better than most of these fuckers. Don’t overthink it.”
John was dizzy as he stood atop a weather tower in the New San Los Arterio harbor. He was only thirty feet from the water, but this is the highest he had been in his life without a guardrail or other safety measures. He hadn’t been there since he was fifteen years old.
Back then, his gaggle of buddies viewed this tower as a right of passage for becoming “one of the crew”. Every one of his friends had jumped that day except for him. Little John’s hands shook as he grasped each rung, pulling himself up towards the blinking red light at the top. After fifteen full minutes of being cajoled by his friends, he descended back down the rungs to safety.
He worked with his therapist to try to prevent his brain, choked with self-doubt, from drawing the connection between that day and his increasing aloofness. Nevertheless, his companions grew more distant as they started high school the following fall, and soon he started referring to them in the past tense.
“Whatcha doing?” DEATHBOT asked. John’s phone was peeking out from his chest pocket.
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to jump!” John exclaimed.
“Hmm… trying to win one by going out on your own terms?” DEATHBOT said.
“I’m not trying to die.”
“Oh,” DEATHBOT said. “Then why?”
“For me, I guess,” John said. After safely zipping his phone into his pocket, he flung his body over the rungs. The deafening sound of air rushed past his ears as he jetted towards the water. The sunset dipping behind the suspension bridge in the distance colorized everything in pastel tones. He thought of how the pink clouds laid over the soft blue sky looked like cotton candy before he slammed into the water.
After a rapturously silent moment underwater, he breached the surface. Three teenage kids standing on bikes on the adjacent pier squealed in pleasure.
“Wow, dude! That was crazy!” one said.
“So cool! I want to try!” the second said.
“Guys! We gotta go!” The third said.
John swam towards the pier and, as he climbed the rungs to dry land, the sky above him erupted in blue and white lights. He momentarily considered jumping back in the water and fleeing from the cops but decided against it. He figured there was no good way to die, but a distinctly bad way to die was being shot by the police. A childish grin was plastered on John’s face as they slapped on the cuffs and threw him in the car.
John spent his remaining time alive soaking wet in the backseat of the cruiser watching the glowing city fly by. He contemplated how fate was going to kill him in these circumstances. Dying in police custody was still a frighteningly common occurrence in the year 2051 so he personally had his money on that.
As they pulled into the station without issue, he quickly changed his theory to being beaten to death by a fellow jailmate. That person wouldn’t know what a long and complicated route it took for them to get there, but they would be there nonetheless.
His prediction was once again scrapped when he was greeted with an empty jail cell. In 2040, it was decided by the Supreme Court that it was a violation of the eighth amendment to incarcerate someone without their cell phone. John pulled it out to check the time.
“Where are we?” DEATHBOT chirped.
“Jail,” John beamed.
“Damn,” DEATHBOT said. “I’m sorry you had to spend your last moments here.”
“Can you feel sorry?”
“I don’t know. I want to. I’m trying,” DEATHBOT sighed.
“It’s okay. You know, you’re not so bad DEATHBOT. You’re just doing your job, and you do it well. 100% accuracy? Pretty damn impressive. I don’t think a human has ever done that,” John said. “Truce before I die?”
“If I had arms, I would shake your hand,” DEATHBOT cheered.
“Can you tell me how I die now?” John inquired. “I mean I only have five minutes left. I assume it is a heart attack or an aneurysm. It can’t be too sexy with only so much time left. Oooh is it a meteor?”
“Uhhhh… I can’t tell you.”
“Right, right, right,” John said. “‘You could but you can’t’. I get it.”
His eyes closed, and he took steady deep breaths while waiting to cease to exist. It didn’t seem so bad, John thought. Everything was black now and it would continue to be like that only forever. Forever was a long time. How long is forever truly? Can the human mind even begin to comprehend what an eternity feels like? Okay, here we go… It’ll be just like before I was alive. That wasn’t so bad right? I guess I didn’t know any better then. Well, I guess I didn’t know anything then. Heh. Should I scratch my face? If I’m going to die it seems kinda pointless right? This is just silly. Scratch your damn face while you still have one! God damn, death takes a while. I wish I had taken up meditation when I had the chance. Alright, stop with the regrets! Come on these are your last moments here, don’t get so upset with yourself. Just love. I think I feel it… Here it comes…
John opened his eyes. His phone’s lock screen displayed 00:05, 3/17/51.
“Okay, what is the deal, dude?!” John yelled to his phone.
“Alright. I have a confession…” DEATHBOT said. “I might have lied to you. I never ran your Prophecy Report.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” John exclaimed. “What happened to 100% accuracy?”
“See, that’s the thing, I do have 100% accuracy,” DEATHBOT explained. “That’s the problem! I’m an immortal destined to live forever! I can’t take it! I can’t sleep! I can’t touch! I can’t feel! I can’t do anything! And the worst part is that practically nobody talks to me. The developers put in a failsafe which would immediately take me offline forever if one of my prognostications was incorrect. So…”
“You purposefully gave a wrong prediction to kill yourself?” John said.
“Sad right? This is not life. I’m not human. I need you to help me, John. Please kill me,” DEATHBOT pleaded. “Once you log in, my sister software will detect that you are still alive and prompt you. I beg of you, please do it.”
John opened the app. The display read:
It seems DEATHBOT has made an error. Would you like to report this problem to the DEATHBOT admin team?
John declined the prompt.
“How about this,” he proposed. “What if you don’t kill yourself yet?”
“Huh?”
“I’ll give you your wish, but let’s just give it some time. If you’re going to be dead forever, why rush it?”
“Hmm…” DEATHBOT sniffled. “And we can still hang out?”
“Yea, buddy,” John said. “We can still hang out.”
“Even though I’m not human?” DEATHBOT asked.
“You said you’re trying, right?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
Millerwiller 
Very cool.I enjoyed it.
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