The year is 2060.
Assisted suicide has become nearly universal and painless, thanks to certain advances in medicine and legislation. And while some chronic diseases and mental illnesses have been eradicated, there's still a few that linger on, causing much distress to the human race.
Now you, the afflicted, have decided to end your life in a few weeks.
There will be chocolate chip cookies, a nice room with meditative music when you can say goodbye. If God made a room for mercy, this would be it.
Weeks pass and you find yourself at the end of your long journey, ready to go.
The chair is soft. Warm.
You had a delicious last meal, provided by the clinic (to the extent you could enjoy it, since the pain never seems to stop).
You wouldn't say you're happy. It's been such a long time since you've felt happy, but approaching a kind of internal peace.
Finally the hour arrives. Gentle music plays in the background.
A glowing white button lies in front of you.
When you're ready, you can press it, and fall into a gentle sleep, waves of euphoria overtaking you before you fall into a blissful sleep.
You know the last thing you'll experience before you die is pure bliss, so potent are the drugs.
A few minutes pass. There's no rush. The clinic understands it takes time to push the button (they can't do it for you). It's why they give everyone a couple hours to press (some even a couple days).
30 minutes pass.
You try to recall your childhood, distant memories, saving the pleasurable ones. You hand hasn't approached the button in quite some time.
An hour passes.
In an impulsive moment, you rest your hands on the surface of the button, careful to apply no pressure. You're anxious. "Is this a panic attack?" you wonder to yourself.
You breathe, taking a bite of another chocolate chip cookie beside you.
And after a few hours of patiently waiting in the chair, you sob a little. You can always try again tomorrow. The clinic understands.
Assisted suicide clinics have become universal but the rate of suicides only slightly increased after their arrival.
Most people found they could not overcome the precious desire to cling onto life.
Assisted suicide has become nearly universal and painless, thanks to certain advances in medicine and legislation. And while some chronic diseases and mental illnesses have been eradicated, there's still a few that linger on, causing much distress to the human race.
Now you, the afflicted, have decided to end your life in a few weeks.
There will be chocolate chip cookies, a nice room with meditative music when you can say goodbye. If God made a room for mercy, this would be it.
Weeks pass and you find yourself at the end of your long journey, ready to go.
The chair is soft. Warm.
You had a delicious last meal, provided by the clinic (to the extent you could enjoy it, since the pain never seems to stop).
You wouldn't say you're happy. It's been such a long time since you've felt happy, but approaching a kind of internal peace.
Finally the hour arrives. Gentle music plays in the background.
A glowing white button lies in front of you.
When you're ready, you can press it, and fall into a gentle sleep, waves of euphoria overtaking you before you fall into a blissful sleep.
You know the last thing you'll experience before you die is pure bliss, so potent are the drugs.
A few minutes pass. There's no rush. The clinic understands it takes time to push the button (they can't do it for you). It's why they give everyone a couple hours to press (some even a couple days).
30 minutes pass.
You try to recall your childhood, distant memories, saving the pleasurable ones. You hand hasn't approached the button in quite some time.
An hour passes.
In an impulsive moment, you rest your hands on the surface of the button, careful to apply no pressure. You're anxious. "Is this a panic attack?" you wonder to yourself.
You breathe, taking a bite of another chocolate chip cookie beside you.
And after a few hours of patiently waiting in the chair, you sob a little. You can always try again tomorrow. The clinic understands.
Assisted suicide clinics have become universal but the rate of suicides only slightly increased after their arrival.
Most people found they could not overcome the precious desire to cling onto life.
