Never-deads lived forever, devoid of pain or burdensome thought. The perfect thralls for a cultist like Caesar.
I couldn’t imagine not being able to feel pain. And it wasn’t just about pain–it was sensation. Never-deads would never go to the pub for a pint and some fish and chips because they couldn’t taste. They didn’t reproduce because sex wasn’t pleasurable. They just were. They’d stare at their phones for hours at a time, clicking links, looking at memes, tweeting inane things from floating memories of a past life.
To your average millennial, becoming a never-dead wasn’t any different from regular life, updating social media and keeping up to date on every last thing–except never-deads weren’t burdened by needing to work or be active, and they couldn’t have their hearts broken or be hurt by anything. In our increasingly-complicated world, living forever in order to have the time to catch up on every bit of digitized information that has ever existed made sense. No more worrying about deadlines or old age. You could take your time. All the time in the world.
I didn’t know what Caesar promised them before or after their transformation to make them follow his rule, but just about every never-dead willingly obeyed his wishes. Whether to build houses for refugees or to build a house for him. The good things balanced out the questionable.
But I looked closely. I could see where Caesar was leading them. The never-deads were a private army waiting to happen. And no one would believe me unless I could prove it myself…
Day 150’s three random prompt categories were, “Forever,” “The living and the dead,” and, “Fish and chips.”
Kind of a prequel to an older prompt. Maybe I’ll carry on with this world sometime soon.