by Marina J. Lostetter

read by Alasdair Stuart

This story was first published in Galaxy’s Edge magazine, January 2014.

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author Marina J. Lostetter

about the author…

Marina is the author of award-winning original stories such as Master Belladino’s Mask, Sojourn for Ephah, and Balance.  She has written tie-in work for the Star Citizen and Sargasso Legacy universes. When not writing, Marina can be found reading speculative fiction (of all types for all ages), drawing, exploring the outdoors, or gaming it up.  She loves exploring new cultures and travels as often as she can.

about the narrator…

I’m a writer. I’m a podcaster. I’m a not-quite-trainee anymore martial artist. I’m a nurse’s kid and a teacher’s kid. I’m a former bouncer. I’m a huge movie nerd. I’m sort of what Abed and Jeff from Community’s kid would be like if he was spliced with the DNA of Helo from Battlestar Galactica. I’m learning.

narrator Alasdair Stuart

Imma Gonna Finish You Off

By Marina J. Lostetter

On the examining table lounged a body.  It was an unremarkable body–rather wrinkly, with an inordinate amount of hair in all the wrong places and too few clothes for most people’s liking, but otherwise nothing to write your congressman about.  The only thing special about the body was that it was dead–a problem that Detective Harry Sordido hoped would resolve itself quite soon.

“Will he just get on with the coming back to life already?” Harry huffed, checking the glowing numbers embedded in his left wrist.  With his right hand, he patted his ample, middle-aged girth.  “He’s not the only victim I’ve got to question today.”

“I’m not sure what’s the matter with him,” said the medical examiner, lifting the dead man’s wrist between two thin fingers.  “He should have let out a nice scream-of-life by now.”  He let the limb flop back to the sanitary paper.

“What do you think it was?” asked the detective, “Accidental? Experimental? Purposeful?  What do you think he died of?”

“You’ll have to ask him to be sure.  He was found out on the sidewalk.  No indications of violence or a struggle, but he does look a tad flaccid.”

“Ah, disgruntled lover, then.”

“No, I mean on the whole.  Like he’s been wrung out.”

They both stared at the body for a long while.

“You don’t think he’s really–?” began Detective Sordido.

“It is starting to seem a bit permanent.”

“That’s impossible! No one’s really died for damned near a millennium.”

The examiner shrugged.  “There’s a first time for every eventuality.”

“What was his name again?”

“Mr. X is what it says on his bio-tat.  Here, I’ll show you.”  The two men moved to the once-ambulatory end of the body, and the examiner held a black light over the pad of X’s right foot.

The tat read:

Name: Zanthaxerillion X

Current Occupation: Government Mandated Homelessness.

Next Occupation: Governor of Greater California (provided the line for Burger Flipper still hasn’t moved).

Current Address: Cardboard box on the corner of Rock St. and Hard Pl.

Age:

Next to the age label was a bio-counter, much like the implanted watch in Harry’s wrist.  It ticked off the seconds, minutes, hours, years, etcetera.  Funny thing about Mr. X’s – it had switched from ticking to sticking.  Harry tapped it with his index finger.  “This thing broken?  How come it’s not counting?”

“I’m telling you, I think this one took.”

“Sixty-two more years and he would have seen the big Thou.  And he bit the dust while performing his civic duty.”  He shook his head sadly.  “They wonder why people do everything they can to avoid obligatory homelessness.”

“You know what they say, only two things are certain: taxes, and the government taking away all your stuff.”

Your stuff, your job, your passion.  The government acted like people were dolls–ever ready to ha[...]