Immortality, to become godlike in longevity, is a heavy sin. As retaliation, Heaven gave birth to the Judgment Choir: a ruthless legion tasked with dragging immortal humans down to Purgatory. Every thousand years, a rapturous loophole gives the immortal humans of Earth a chance to beg forgiveness and enter paradise. One keen immortal senses that the time of Pardoning is near, and feels it is his duty to inform as many of his kind as he can, before they're seized by the Judgment Choir.
I’m going to outlive the sun. This thought always seemed to make an encore appearance in Sam’s mind, no matter how much effort he put into blocking it out. This was his twisted equivalent of the ordinary human’s, “I’m going to die someday,” -- the one thought that never fails to trigger death anxiety and episodes of hyperventilation.
It was the sinking feeling one randomly gets while standing idly under a hot shower, or being unable to fall asleep past midnight. Once the helplessness of it all seizes your mind, there’s no getting rid of that accursed thought. No matter how hard you kick, or how loud you scream, you’re going to die. You and everyone around you.
I’m going to outlive everyone and everything. How long before it gets unbearable? It hasn’t even been a century for me, and yet...
Sam sighed, pressed his temples, and took another sip of his martini. He briefly took off his sunglasses to rub his tired eyes. At least the “forever anxiety” occurred at a relevant time this time around -- the heat was especially unbearable today. Fortunately, being on Mr. Flagstaff’s yacht eased the stress. Sam emptied the glass. “Refill, my friend?”
Sam smiled and shook his head. “I really shouldn’t. Despite immortality, I’m still pretty bad at handling my liquor.”
Flagstaff chuckled. “So, what do they have you doing these days, Mr. Secret Weapon? Are you just on vacation, until they can find an excuse for the next war?”
“That’s pretty much it,” Sam sighed.