Dating Jack

Jack is immortal. He can't die, and never will. Earth has a second attempt, but something has changed. Something that might change the human race forever - but for better or for worse?

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8. I Remember

I know that ten years have passed since we discovered our immortality. I know that my face is the same face that it was all those years ago, young and fresh.

 Earth 2.0 is far from perfect, but it's improving.

A revolution nipped the cruel imbalance of power in the bud - now we are more of a community, looking out for each other. I prefer this way of living, by far. It reminds me of before I came here. I was twenty years old, just qualified to travel intergalactically. Earth was the first place I ever came to. I remember thinking it beautiful, ideal. I couldn't wait to return and speak of it with my family. But I never did.

To this day I remember the words of my great-grandmother - she had encouraged me to travel, saying it was 'an experience not to be missed.' I think of her often, wishing I had gone to see her more, longing to sit before the fire and listen to her tales of different worlds.

I am no longer a lawyer - we are not as common nowadays, as justice is served in a very different manner. Instead, I travel around, take in different cultures and people. Often I record what I see in an old journal, along with sketches that come to mind.

The chemists are back, experimenting at night, handing out new remedies. I vowed not to become involved, but a daily dose of 'Forget' dulls the memories that hurt. I have no desire to remember the world I used to endure every day.

 

 

I live alone in the house that I first stayed in here. The paint is peeling from the front door, and the ivy has invaded the brickwork, but I like it. Simple and homely. I carpet available floor space with woven rugs and decorate surfaces with fresh flowers. My favourite room is my study – piles upon piles of dusty books and glowing lamps make it a comforting work space. In the afternoon, the sun streams through the window, turning the leaves of the trees golden and casting a warming glow across everything it touches. The view from my study can be stunning, especially with a blue sky and a lush grass border. I take pride in my garden now, after years of leaving it in abandon.

People often question me about marriage or a family, but a bad relationship springs to mind, and although I can't quite recall the details I am adamant to live my own life.

This year, the weather has been generous, so today I ventured outside the comfort of my home to go to the park. The splashing of carefree ducks in the ponds and the song of a bird echoed in the clear air, and I relaxed a little, allowing the sun to wash over my face. The moment was perfect, too perfect, that I think fate was tempted. I took a tumble, the books in my arms falling to the floor.

A polished boot appeared in my vision as I crouched, collecting my books, pages fluttering in the breeze. Then a hand, large and tan, with a wrist holding an elaborate watch unlike one I had ever seen before.

“Allow me,” said a smooth voice. The man pushed aside his brown hair and gathered my books carefully, stacking them in my arms.

“Thank you,” I said, searching his eyes, which were a shade of blue that seemed completely content. “Do I know you?” I blurted suddenly, feeling foolish. Something about him was familiar to me.

“I knew your great grandmother,” he said simply, a gentle smile upon his face.

“Rose?” He nodded. “Did she force-feed you stories of her travels?”

He laughed. “Something like that,” he said, an irresistible charm to his voice. He nodded his head almost shyly and turned on his heel, walking away purposefully. This was a stance I was sure I recognised, but couldn’t put my finger on. “Goodbye Isabelle.” I could have sworn the breeze carried those words from him to me, but he had already vanished from my view. Regardless of whether we had met before, his simple kindness restored a little of my faith in humanity. There was an essence of concern for others still pumping through our genes, the urge to assist still present. Not only the sun had warmed my spirits that day.

Jack.

The name sprung to mind and felt right on my tongue. And for a second, I remembered a pinch of a memory of him. And then it disappeared, fluttering into the breeze along with the leaves tumbling from trees.

Fleeting and beautiful, but never forgotten.

 

 

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