A moment before immortality

Vera opened her eyes.

Let’s remain mortal?

At the foot of this high-rise building you feel like a small ant. Plastic, glass and metal. The lenses project thousands of images onto the retina, and it seems to you that the arrow in front of your eyes points exactly to the entrance. And around there is a noisy stream of three-dimensional traffic of cars. Fortunately, the earphone allows you to temporarily turn off all unnecessary noise using audio filters. A three-dimensional image of a blonde in a strict black suit appeared on the wall. «Space real estate agency» X; A-12» Lowest prices for Martian real estate. It’s profitable with us!»

Ilya will nervously brush away the annoying advertising, in the hope that augmented reality will no longer be needed today.

«Why are you trying to turn off advertising? Are you not interested in this product, or should you change to another advertiser?»

He can’t afford to buy licensed lenses (and who, besides the heads of the Corporation, can afford this?), and in the pirated copy, every couple of minutes, unexpected advertisements pop up every now and then: add a six to the name of the casino – and you’ll get the opportunity to win a million! Great-grandfather told Ilya that previously advertisements were shown only every ten minutes, and then it was possible to change the TV channel. Although, everything was better for him: robots didn’t take up jobs, the grass was greener, the sun was shining brighter, and carrots cost only two hundred rubles, and you could buy them in any supermarket, instead of waiting for delivery from the agricultural reserve, and go out You could leave the house at any time, without a curfew or two-hour exit permits. These old people are storytellers, living in the past, and meanwhile the world is moving by leaps and bounds towards progress. And how did they live well? The ruble was not their international currency, and the world spoke this strange English, not Russian. And you can eat carrots that are printed. It tastes no worse.

Ilya pulled the medical mask first on himself, and then on Marina, and carried her in his arms into the building.

There is a bright fluorescent light inside. Absolute sterility: the nose seems to be able to detect this absolute absence of smells here, and sometimes it seems that you are sick with the Martian flu. I walked in and two robotic nurses immediately ran up.

– Sir, how can we be of assistance?

– Take her to Doctor Flerovsky’s room.

Three-dimensional images of awards replaced each other on the walls in the doctor’s office.

– Semyon Karlovich, it was I who called you. My wife… She also became infected with this Martian infection.

– Calm down, darling. Have a seat. I’ll look at the patient.

The lens magnified the image of Marina’s throat many times over. The doctor put his ear to his chest so that the earphone amplified the sound of breathing. The doctor blinked, apparently carefully examining the lungs in the X-ray range. Any medical equipment these days is implanted as an organ of the doctor’s body.

– That’s what I thought. It’s a cold.

– Doctor! Can’t you see: she’s barely breathing! And the temperature!

– Calm down and sit down, Ilya Sergeevich, it seems?

– Yes. Sorry. I got excited. If she has a cold, let’s give her an antibiotic. The pharmacy refused to sell it without a doctor’s prescription. If it’s just a cold and not the Martian flu.

«There is no Martian flu,» Semyon Karlovich tilted his head slightly.

– But what about the symptoms…

– I mean, no one has the Martian flu and no one has had such a thing. All these are fairy tales for the population. And there is only a cold. And other diseases. Only now there are no antibiotics either. People mixed them into livestock feed, and now there is nothing left for us. Bacteria have learned to defend themselves against our drugs, and in the last couple of months we have been left without medicine. Medieval alchemists were closer to the invention of medicines than we are. Your wife will either recover on her own or she won’t. But I’m powerless here.

– Take her for treatment!

– There are no seats.

– But I have insurance! – Ilya was losing his composure and was already screaming at the top of his voice.

– Everything is fine? – Security robots ran into the doctor’s office.

– Yes, the patient’s relative is already calming down. Ilya Sergeevich, robots have replaced all but a dozen professions. But now doctors are no use either. We have no more medicine. You are no better than other people with insurance. The waiting list for the hospital has already been booked for the next three years. I don’t know whether your wife will need my services in three years.

– I’ll pay you. How many do you need? Any money?

– Sorry, but I can’t help you. After all, I myself became infected, and I cannot even cure my own family. That’s why they called the Martian flu because the only way to escape from it is to fly away from our planet. Or stay at home for the next two hundred years so as not to get infected. Although, there is another way

Semyon Karlovich handed Ilya a three-dimensional business card.

«Immortality Corporation. Eternity for you and your loved ones»

***

What is eternity? An ordinary room two by two meters, where you are forced to forever huddle with one woman, with the exception of a couple of hours a day when you can walk freely? Endless quarrels over trifles. It all seems like nothing now, when eternity must come to an end. Or is there a way out? The lens has already scanned the QR code, and Ilya is immersed in watching a multi-hour advertising video.

An Asian girl with her hair tied up in a bun walked into a huge room with high ceilings, Ilya followed her. An elderly man was lying on the bed, and his head was inside a huge metal ring.

– A modern tomograph scans the brain, neuron by neuron, connection by connection. Zettabytes of information on our servers.

The picture changed to a huge room filled with metal boxes with electric current flowing through them.

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