The Last Person to Die

It was cold in the last hospital room on Earth. The curtains were drawn over the windows and the darkness tasted metallic.

A small shape huddled on the bed surrounded by wires and machines. Just a few minutes ago the equipment had been pumping life into the person on the mattress, but they had since gone silent.

Gil lay there, shriveled and tired, staring at the ceiling. The orderlies had tried to get him to put on a virtual reality headset while they worked on bringing his body back to life or transferring his consciousness, but he didn’t want to keep living. He was ready to die.

Ever since he was a child, death was a natural part of things. He was raised in a religious household and didn’t really believe in an afterlife, but heaven was always there if he wanted. It provided direction to his life, and a constant comfort, especially after his wife died years ago leaving him all alone.

Gil thought back to Estelle, how beautiful she looked dancing in the kitchen, how strong she was and blue her eyes were when cancer finally took her.

He wanted to see her again. As he got older, he started seeing ads in the paper about neural reconstruction of past loved ones and cloning procedures that could bring them back. But none of the clones could ever come close to being his Estelle.

So he lived alone, and lived a full life as she would have wanted. He took up woodcarving and carpentry, old and archaic arts that provided him a living by demonstrating how people used to live. He was a walking museum, kept alive by showing the history of the world.

Every day he woke and turned to the empty spot in bed next to him. He could have remarried. He could have taken the life treatment or swapped out organs for better made parts. He could have seen the world and traveled and done a million million things.

But his world had ended with Estelle and he was content to wait. He would see her again, he knew it.

One of the last doctors came in the room to make sure he was comfortable. They had given him the best care and offered all sorts of amenities to ensure that he felt wonderful. The only thing that pissed him off was that they kept pushing for him to download his consciousness. Life was so sacred to these idiots that they wouldn’t allow it to die.

The doctor checked his chart and gave him one last squeeze on the shoulder. He had wanted to be alone for his final moments. She turned to walk out through the doors, the flash of the camera drones barely seen behind her turned back. The door shut.

He was ready. His body felt light, almost weightless and his rattling breath frosted the air and his eyelids fluttered. The last thing he saw was the hint of daybreak through the curtains. Dawn was spilling through.