His alarm blinked 7:00 A.M. and let out a piercing buzz, snapping him back to the present. He silenced it with a shaky hand. No way I’m going to work today, he decided. Not when his thoughts felt so turbulent.
Dragging himself to the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face. His reflection stared back, eyes ringed with red from a sleepless night. Could I even survive five centuries? he wondered. Or would I lose my mind along the way?
Dressing casually, he made coffee—his usual morning ritual offering little comfort—and sat at his desk. A blank document awaited him on the screen. He inhaled slowly and began to type, listing what he might gain from living five hundred years:
- Time for self-improvement.
- Explore the world thoroughly.
- Master countless skills.
- Possibility of true understanding—of life, people, everything.
For a moment, the words felt optimistic, even tempting. But reality tugged him back. He pressed Enter and typed the possible drawbacks:
- Isolation.
- Detachment from normal life.
- Watching loved ones remain ageless for centuries (no one can die or grow old).
- Potential madness.
He paused, fingers hovering over the keys. His head throbbed with new questions. Would time literally stand still for everyone else, leaving him alone to wander a motionless world? Or was it simply that his life was extended while everyone else lived normally, but didn’t age? The stranger hadn’t explained any mechanics. Aion found himself simultaneously drawn to and repulsed by the idea of near-eternal life. He let out a ragged breath and saved his ramblings.
Standing, he paced around his cramped apartment. The walls felt closer than usual. He slipped on his coat and stepped out onto the narrow balcony, the cool morning air hitting him like a splash of fresh water. Below, the city carried on in its usual bustle, cars honking and commuters hurrying by. They had no idea what haunted him.
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Five hundred years. The enormity of it made his chest feel tight. He pictured himself scaling distant mountains, exploring oceans, learning every instrument, mastering every art. Endless time to absorb knowledge, to chase every dream. He almost smiled at the thought of being freed from the usual constraints of mortality.
But then the darker side loomed—a suffocating loneliness if the rest of the world was literally stuck or unchanging while he roamed. He saw himself losing track of his friends’ faces, the memory of their voices fading into an echo. He pictured a future with no one to confide in, no companionship. Would I go insane? he wondered. Would I become desperate enough to force interactions with unmoving people? The thought sent a chill through him.
With an exhale, he shut his eyes, letting the city’s background noise wash over him—distant sirens, the rattle of trains, a car stereo’s muffled bass. Could I handle it? he asked himself. And what if something goes wrong? The stranger gave no real details, only a cryptic promise. Who was to say this “gift” wouldn’t turn out to be a curse?
Eventually, the bite of the morning air coaxed him back inside. He shut the balcony door behind him and leaned against it, heart still hammering. For a long moment, he simply stood there, absorbing the quiet of his apartment.
Sinking onto the edge of his bed, he buried his face in his hands. Deep down, he recognized the truth: fear wasn’t the only emotion driving him. A flicker of excitement smoldered behind his unease. The stranger had recognized it, too—his yearning for more, for something beyond the mundane. That’s why I can’t just dismiss this.
He lay back, eyes on the ceiling once again. The day ahead was a blank canvas, his thoughts in constant motion. Aion knew he could theorize endlessly, but in the end, a choice awaited him. Yes or no—take the leap or refuse it.
Some small part of him lit up at the notion of freedom from time’s usual march. Another part shrank in terror, imagining centuries of emptiness. Could I live five hundred years boldly, or would I crumble under the weight of them?
Aion closed his eyes, letting the question hang in the stillness. He had the rest of the day to turn it over, to confront his darkest fears and highest hopes. Whatever I decide, he mused, my life will never be the same. He could pretend otherwise, but the stranger’s offer had already carved a permanent crack in his reality—one that no amount of rationalizing could seal shut.
For now, he would allow himself the luxury of uncertainty. I can’t see the path ahead, he thought, but neither can I ignore it. And in that silent, private battle between dread and wonder, dawn gave way to morning as Aion lay wide awake, wrestling with what might be the most important decision of his life.
Give me love. I want to feel whole, to never be lonely again.
Love doesn’t make you whole. It shows you your cracks. The closer someone gets the more they see the parts you try to hide. You think love will save you, but tell me, can you bear to be truly seen?