Monday 30 April 2012

Sarin Gas

“Press this button to terminate your existence. The red one. The flashing red one. Press it. Why would you request termination when you do not wish to complete the operation? Our services are highly sought after and if you wish to waste our time so be it. Your suicide bill will be posted whether you do the act or not. Frankly, you might as well.”
I tried to grab the handle on the door behind me. It was sealed. Behind it I could hear the clamours of others waiting to enter the booth. Were they as ignorant as me? I doubt it. Only a few decades ago you would never have seen suicide booths in shopping malls. It was always a very private affair, it seems a little bastardised these days. To think of it, you never saw them at all.
“Releasing sarin gas, your body will be processed and reanimated within fourteen days. Thank you for using Mark Antony.”
I started rattling the handle harder and harder. It wouldn’t give. The shouts beyond it had grown louder now, mostly seeming dissatisfied at the wait. Maybe they were blaming my age for indecision. I wish I actually bothered to look at signs, I could swear this is where the men’s was last week.
I felt my head grow heavy and my hand slip in to darkness.

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