Second Childhood
By CLIFFORD D. SIMAK
Illustrated by DON HUNTER
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction February 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Achieving immortality is only half of the problem.
The other half is knowing how to live with it once
it's been made possible—and inescapable!
You did not die.
There was no normal way to die.
You lived as carelessly and as recklessly as you could and you hopedthat you would be lucky and be accidentally killed.
You kept on living and you got tired of living.
"God, how tired a man can get of living!" Andrew Young said.
John Riggs, chairman of the immortality commission, cleared his throat.
"You realize," he said to Andrew Young, "that this petition is a highlyirregular procedure to bring to our attention."
He picked up the sheaf of papers off the table and ruffled through themrapidly.
"There is no precedent," he added.
"I had hoped," said Andrew Young, "to establish precedent."
Commissioner Stanford said, "I must admit that you have made a goodcase, Ancestor Young. Yet you must realize that this commission has nopossible jurisdiction over the life of any person, except to see thateveryone is assured of all the benefits of immortality and to work outany kinks that may show up."
"I am well aware of that," answered Young, "and it seems to me that mycase is one of the kinks you mention."
He stood silently, watching the faces of the members of the board.They are afraid, he thought. Every one of them. Afraid of the day theywill face the thing I am facing now. They have sought an answer andthere is no answer yet except the pitifully basic answer, the brutallyfundamental answer that I have given them.
"My request is simple," he told them, calmly. "I have asked forpermission to discontinue life. And since suicide has been madepsychologically impossible, I have asked that this commission appointa panel of next-friends to make the necessary and somewhat distastefularrangements to bring about the discontinuance of my life."
"If we did," said Riggs, "we would destroy everything we have. Thereis no virtue in a life of only five thousand years. No more than ina life of only a hundred years. If Man is to be immortal, he must begenuinely immortal. He cannot compromise."
"And yet," said Young, "my friends are gone."
He gestured at the papers Riggs held in his hands. "I have them listedthere," he said. "Their names and when and where and how they died.Take a look at them. More than two hundred names. People of my owngeneration and of the generations closely following mine. Their namesand the photo-copies of their death certificates."
He put both of his hands upon the table, palms flat against the table,and leaned his weight upon his arms.
"Take a look at how they died," he said. "Every one involves accidentalviolence. Some of them drove their vehicles too fast and, more thanlikely, very recklessly. One fell off a cliff when he reached down topick a flower that was growing on its edge. A case of deliberately poorjudgment, to my mind. One got stinking drunk and took a bath and passedout in the tub. He drowned...."
"Ancestor Young," Riggs said sharply, "you are surely not implyingthese folks were suicides."
"No," Andrew Young said bitterly. "We abolished suicide three thousandyears ago, cleared it cl