An excerpt from a book I’m writing.
Trina sits, legs folded under her, a minor miracle at her age, a cup of coffee in her hand staring out of the window. People rush past, their cars whirring like contented housecats. Not so long ago this part of the city lay under a constant haze of smog. But then electrification happened. Everything ran on it now.
Even humans.
Well, not humans exactly. It was hard to understand. Trina was not a foolish woman. Her expertise was education, but in literature and the arts. Concepts like engineering, quantum computing or artificial intelligence were all as foreign to her as she was to her neighbors.
That was the thing about Trina. Out of 15 billion people, she was the only one about to die.
Trina snorted, then took a sip of her coffee, the steam wafting up and steaming her glasses. Maybe not about to die. Compared to everyone else, maybe. But compared to a tree, or the planet, everything else was already dying. The comparison was an odd one and a large part of the reason, she was viewed as some sort of oddity by everyone she passed.
The reason she stood out was simple: everyone else on the planet was immortal.
Another sip. Not everyone, certainly. But it was still a lonely existence. If others like herself existed, she had not met them. Neither had the health services people, the government sent her house to “check up on her”, as if being mortal was a form of mental illness.
She snorted again. Shifted slightly. Scratched her fingernails along her seat. A small meow answered, then Snobs, her gray cat, emerged from the shadows and jumped into her newly adjusted lap.
Justin Rawlinson 