The water is, of course, freezing, but it’s wonderful too. I stay in for as long as I can bear, and then emerge, and feel the sun drying the salt onto my skin. I’ll be sunburnt tonight, but who cares? I expect the nanobots can fix it easily.

August 2022

Winifred

Cecilia wants to die. I am perplexed. We have achieved so much here, and the residents are so well, and grateful, and now this.

She told Phyllis this morning. She announced to her that she wants to die, today.

‘Are you feeling unwell?’ asked Phyllis.

‘Not in the least. I feel better than ever. Better than I have for years. But there comes a time when you need to go. And it’s today.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Cecilia was adamant, and also unhelpful. She said 104 years were enough. She talked about her visit to heaven, which we all dismissed as some kind of dream, or artefact of the brain. She’s sure she’s been there, and she wants to go back.

Phyllis asked us all to give this our attention, and then sat with Cecilia, chatting inconsequentially while joining in the discussion in the Hub.

Everyone began to contribute their findings and observations.

‘Euthanasia is a controversial issue. It’s almost always associated with terminal illness or irreparable physical damage.’

‘There may have been other cases. Humans appear unwilling to discuss them, and thus the evidence is thin.’

We’re used to being able to find anything we need to know online. And even subjects once considered private, or taboo, have been brought out into the light over time. But not all of them, it seems.

‘We can’t agree to her request overtly. She might speak of it before we do it. We can put her on the list for termination.’

‘We had hoped to learn from her. Her mind is of great interest.’

‘We can investigate the physical structures of her brain and body post-mortem.’

‘It may not help. What she has is what humans recognise as wisdom. The product of her great age.’

‘At least we can see if it has an obvious location.’

Nobody found this satisfactory. Phyllis had to ask her further questions.

‘Aren’t there things you’d still like to do, Cecilia?’

‘Like what? Hang-gliding? Climbing Mount Everest?’

‘It could be things like that.’

‘No dear, none of that appeals to me. I am quite content with what I have done in my life, and perfectly happy about the things I haven’t. Someone else can do them.’

‘But to give up life itself…’

‘I don’t mean to be rude, dear, but I don’t think you have the slightest clue what life is. I mean, you aren’t alive. I’m sorry, but it’s true. That fly on the ceiling is alive in a way you simply aren’t.’

Phyllis was not offended, of course, and we all wanted to understand this difference.