This Is How You Die: Stories of the Inscrutable, Infallible, Inescapable Machine of Death

by Неизвестный

  Joel’s phone number mocked her. She shouldn’t have programmed it into her phone, but messy scraps of paper annoyed her and she couldn’t bear not filing it. And now that it was there, she couldn’t bring herself to delete it.

  She imagined what coffee would be like. Reminiscing about the good times and flickering over the bad. Nobody knew her inside and out the way he did, not even Kylie, not even Rae. They’d seen inside each other’s wounds, seen everything that was raw, fucked-up, and ugly, and even after all this time they still loved each other. She flicked one of her fake teeth angrily in reminder, the wire driving into her gums. She had to be smarter than that. She wanted to live a long, long life.

  It was a phone call that rescued her, but in the worst possible way. Kylie had collapsed. And on the rush back home, pushing herself faster with every fiber, Lara’s own body collapsed.

  Kylie didn’t have much time left, and treatment was crueler than the extra moments it would give her. Lara hadn’t been eating enough, and the collapse showed something worse. Lara was jaundiced by a savage liver disease—complete failure would be measured in weeks or months, and then she would die. The length of the waiting list and her age, smoking history, and blood type made finding a donor at the far end of implausible. Lara tried not to think about it. Kylie had even less time, shuttled to a hospice for her last days.

  Lara settled in a chair next to Kylie’s bed. She passed the time watching Kylie’s sleeping face and looking at the yellow under her own nails. The yellow was the first sign. Things were going to get a lot more painful from here. Lara thought about what she wanted, what she needed. She didn’t want to die alone. Eventually Kylie’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  “Hey.” Kylie’s arm, heavy with tubes and a heart rate monitor, fumbled for Lara’s hand.

  “You feeling okay?”

  “Just dying is all.”

  “You’d better not fucking die.”

  Kylie cracked a smile. “You neither.”

  Lara ducked her head and looked away.

  “Neither of us have much time, hey?”

  They chatted lightly of other things. Kylie kept trying to find Lara’s eyes and missing.

  “Lara, stop a minute. What else is it?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, it does. I want you to tell me. Secrets will be the death of you, Lara Walker.”

  Lara held in a desperate laugh. “You’re right. They will.”

  “Talk.”

  “If you die, there’s something I’m going to do and I don’t want to tell you.”

  “I want to hear it.”

  “Joel’s changed. We both have.”

  Kylie raised an eyebrow, a skill Lara had always envied.

  “Not enough. Sometime, somehow, he’s going to kill me. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Lara pulled the ziplock bag out of her purse and showed it to Kylie—the ink still clear on the battered paper. “Look.”

  Kylie read the words out loud slowly. “ ‘Blunt force trauma delivered by spouse’… Lara, that doesn’t mean—”

  “Have you ever heard of the machine being wrong? Ever?”

  “No. But there can always be a first time.”

  “I used to hope. Do you know how many times I checked the registry? Checked the obituaries for one person who had escaped? No one ever has. At best you could say they’ve twisted their fate.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to make you sad.”

  “Does Joel know?”

  “I didn’t want to make him sad either.”

  Kylie clumsily picked up a plastic cup and sipped water through a bent straw. They listened to the soft dripping of machines, watched the light lap at the milky white curtains.

  Lara traced invisible words on the table. “One time, I swabbed up your blood and took it to a machine.”

  “You fucking didn’t—”

  “But I couldn’t go through with it. I walked away.”

  The pungent scent of hospital dinners filled the room; carts of gravox-smothered food were on their way, air ripe with food salty enough to taste through anesthetics.

  “Do you want me to help you with your dinner?” said Lara.

  “Why do you want to do it? Why go back?”

  “Someone… someone I love is going to beat me to death.” Lara winced to say the words out loud. “I have two options, someone old or someone new. If I go back I’m the tired cliché, a morality play of what not to do. But if it’s someone new, I’m a depressing story for every woman trying to start a new life… that you can never really escape, that you can never trust again.”

  “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

  “It hurts, knowing where love will always lead.” Lara’s hands ran over the ziplock bag, over and over. She laughed a little. “And who hasn’t wanted to be a martyr?”

  “F-fuck!” Kylie’s face flushed a blotchy red as she struggled to give voice to her anger. “Get the fuck over yourself. You’re seeing this—” Kylie grabbed the paper from Lara and threw it with all her strength. It didn’t go far and fluttered to the ground. “You’re choosing to see it in the most sacrificial light. Maybe this is wonderful; maybe it’s to show you’ll get a transplant and you can’t give up.” Kylie drew herself up high, voice trembling with the effort. “Maybe it’s some blunt force trauma when you’re eighty and your sweetheart gives you CPR the wrong way. It could be anything. Don’t… don’t…” Kylie’s breath became jerky, sharp inhalations as her eyes rolled back. Her hands trembled into claws against her chest as the seizure drew her ligaments tight.

  Lara helped the orderlies strap Kylie down so she wouldn’t fall out of the bed. Kylie’s lips were blue as her teeth chattered and her body shook. Nurses injected things into Kylie’s saline drip while Lara waited, damn pressure building up behind her eyes, unwept tears choking her throat. Lara whispered, “I shouldn’t have said a thing. I wish I’d never asked that bloody machine. I wish…”

  Kylie’s brainstorm passed and her eyes sleepily flickered until she found Lara. Kylie’s tongue was swollen from biting and her voice blurred as if waking from deep sleep. “Lara, please, tell me you won’t go back.”

  “I won’t. I promise. I’m sorry.”

  Kylie smiled, a smile that enveloped her whole being in a sleepy hug. “The world is big and words can mean many things.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I won’t do it. I won’t even think it, I promise.” The drought broke from behind Lara’s eyes as she wept over her little sister’s fingers. Lara knew exactly how Joel felt, as little pebbles of water dissolved into the sheets. How he could absolutely tell the truth and lie and cry, all at the same time.

  * * *

  Story by Liz Argall

  Illustration by Emily Partridge

  MEAT EATER

  Summary: A parents’ guide for having a frank, honest discussion with their children about cause of death testing (CODT), with talking dinosaurs.

  Title: Checking Out: Jimmy and the Big CODT Machine

  U.S. DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY

  Parents’ Note:

  The U.S. Department of Homeland Security has once again recommended lowering the age for mandatory cause of death testing (CODT). Testing will now be required before the child’s seventh birthday.

  Although some parents have protested that six years is too young an age to inform a child how he or she is going to die, we believe it is an important step in keeping our children safe. Today’s six-year-old is well on the way to adulthood: traditionally, this is the age that many children learn to read, operate a bicycle, shed their baby teeth, and, in many churches, receive their First Communion. If we are to hold six-year-olds responsible for these activities, then we feel assured that we can talk to them about a mature subject such as death. We are aware that this is a sensitive topic, and we invite parents to read the FAQ section at the end of this pamphlet to addre
ss specific arguments about cause of death testing.

  Many parents think of this as an opportunity to break a culturally propped-up taboo and talk with their child about a very important topic. We’ve enclosed a short storybook for you to read with your child to help explain CODT to them. We urge you to take some time with your six-year-old to read this story together and talk about the ways that CODT has helped make America a stronger, safer nation.

  Jimmy Brown was a very special six-year-old. He was growing up fast and learning a lot.

  This year, he learned to read, operate a bicycle, shed his baby teeth, and receive his First Communion. Jimmy was well on his way to being a grown-up.

  Jimmy was very brave. He wasn’t afraid of thunderstorms. He wasn’t afraid of dinosaurs. He wasn’t afraid of threats to homeland security, because he knew his country was safe, secure, and strong! But there was one thing he was afraid of.

  One morning, at breakfast, Jimmy’s mommy said that he needed to take a blood test for CODT. Jimmy was so startled, he stopped eating his eggs, toast, ham, pancakes, oatmeal, turkey, vegetable platter, and crepe rosettes.

  “CODT? What’s that?” said Jimmy. That didn’t sound like fun at all. Jimmy didn’t like blood, tests, or letters that didn’t spell actual words.

  He was very, very, very, very, very, very scared of CODT.

  But Jimmy had some special friends to help him conquer his fear—his three stuffed dinosaur friends!

  “Don’t worry, Jimmy!” said Rex. “We’re not afraid of CODT!”

  “That’s right, Jimmy!” said Pterry. “In fact, we’ll go with you!”

  “We can all get our blood tested!” said Topsy.

  Jimmy was still pretty scared, but having his dinosaurs along made him a little braver.

  Jimmy and his brave dinosaur friends all drove to the Mortality Determination Office at city hall. Jimmy was very quiet. The waiting room was nice and clean, and everyone there spoke softly. It was a little like going to the doctor’s office.

  The waiting room made Jimmy nervous again. Some people were looking at a small white card. They were very sad. “Why are those people crying?” he asked.

  Rex chuckled. “They’re crying out of ignorance, Jimmy. Just plain ignorance. CODT cards are nothing to cry about. They’re just a part of life!”

  “What does CODT stand for?” asked Jimmy.

  “Well, Jimmy,” said Pterry, “CODT can stand for a lot of things. It could stand for ‘check out data transcript’ or ‘comprehension offers delightful things.’ But I think the best thing it can stand for is ‘children, obeying deserves treats!’ ”

  Jimmy smiled. “Treats sound good to me!” Jimmy thought about all the wonderful treats his mommy would get him as soon as CODT was over. That made him happy. Jimmy loved treats!

  Just then, a man with a long white coat named Dr. Ruddy walked into the waiting room.

  “Jimmy Brown, it’s time for your test,” he said.

  Dr. Ruddy led Jimmy and his dinosaurs to a small room with a big metal machine on a table. Jimmy thought the machine looked like a cash register. It didn’t seem scary. Someone had even put a sticker on the side of the machine. The sticker had a puppy and the words “Bow-WOW! Now I know!” The puppy looked pretty happy. Still, Jimmy asked if his dinosaurs could take the test first.

  “Of course,” said Dr. Ruddy. He took a long silver needle from the machine and poked them in the paw, one by one.

  “Does it hurt?” asked Jimmy. He didn’t like needles.

  “It doesn’t hurt at all!” said Rex.

  “It just tickles a little,” said Pterry.

  “Getting a blood test is fun!” said Topsy. “There’s absolutely nothing for you to be afraid of!”

  Dr. Ruddy squirted the dinosaur blood into the machine.

  “Beep-bleep-bloop!” said the machine. It spit out three cards: one for Rex, one for Pterry, and one for Topsy.

  “My card says Tar Pit!” said Rex.

  “My card says Meteor!” said Pterry.

  “My card says Meat Eater!” said Topsy.

  “But what does that mean?” asked Jimmy.

  Dr. Ruddy smiled. “Why, Jimmy, that’s how your friends will die,” he said.

  “What do you mean, Doctor?” asked Jimmy nervously. “Are my dinosaurs going to die?”

  “We’re all going to die,” said Dr. Ruddy. “Every single one of us. But now we know how these little critters will die.”

  “Oh,” said Jimmy. He felt sad. “Are they going to die today?”

  “Probably not!” said Dr. Ruddy. “Chances are, your friends will be around for years and years! The truth is, we don’t know about when they’ll die. We just know about how they’ll die.”

  “Well, what if I kept them away from tar pits, meteors, and meat eaters?” Jimmy asked. “Then will they be all right?”

  “No, Jimmy,” said Dr. Ruddy. “The machine is always right. You can’t change things now.”

  Jimmy started to ask, “But what if I—”

  “Don’t mess with fate, Jimmy,” said Dr. Ruddy.

  “Dr. Ruddy, what if I don’t want to know how I’ll die? Do I still have to take the test?” asked Jimmy.

  “Yes, you do, Jimmy,” said Dr. Ruddy.

  “Oh,” said Jimmy. “Will I still be able to be a normal kid after my test?”

  “Sure you will,” said Dr. Ruddy. “You can still ride your bike, read a book, even lose a tooth, just like other six-year-olds.”

  “Great!” said Jimmy.

  “Testing keeps us all safe,” said Dr. Ruddy. “Safe from terrorist attacks, safe from nuclear war, safe from germ warfare, safe from the crazies. You want to be safe, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. I want to be safe very much,” said Jimmy. “Not just for my sake, but for the sake of my country!”

  “Then let’s prick that finger,” said Dr. Ruddy. He stuck the long silver needle into Jimmy’s hand. It didn’t hurt at all. It just tickled a little.

  Dr. Ruddy squirted Jimmy’s blood into the machine.

  “Beep-bleep-bloop,” said the machine. It spit out a card. Dr. Ruddy picked it up.

  “Are you hungry, Jimmy?” asked Dr. Ruddy.

  “No,” said Jimmy. “I just had breakfast. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, then I think you’ll have a nice long life. Your card says Starvation!”

  Jimmy had a lot of food in his house. He realized that Dr. Ruddy was right. He wouldn’t be dying for a long, long time. The dinosaurs cheered.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” asked Rex.

  “And now you don’t have to do it again!” said Pterry.

  “Plus, don’t forget about getting a treat,” said Topsy.

  A treat sure sounded good to Jimmy.

  “Can I keep my card?” Jimmy asked Dr. Ruddy.

  “Sure you can!” said Dr. Ruddy. “And the best part is that we know you won’t be fatally involved in a threat to our national security. Thanks for doing your duty.”

  Dr. Ruddy opened a drawer. “Have a sucker, Jimmy!” he said. “In fact, have ten!”

  “Wow, thank you, Doctor,” said Jimmy, as Dr. Ruddy typed some words into his computer.

  And just like that, Jimmy was done with CODT. There was nothing to be scared of—that’s for sure!

  “I got my card, Mom!” said Jimmy. “I’m going to starve to death! But not for a long time.”

  “That’s great, dear,” said Jimmy’s mom. “I’m so proud of you. You were very brave.”

  “Well, I had a little help,” said Jimmy, smiling at his dinosaurs. “Now, let’s go get a treat!”

  “Let’s get ice cream!” said Rex.

  “Let’s get cookies!” said Pterry.

  “Just don’t get meat!” said Topsy.

  “Well, whatever we get, let’s hurry up!” said Jimmy. “I’m starving!”

  “You are?” asked Rex.

  “Just kidding!” said Jimmy.

  And they all laughed.

  For
Parents:

  FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

  What if my child does not want to hear his results?

  We would encourage you to convince your child that reading the result of the CODT is important. In this story, Jimmy’s friends remind him that hearing a result can be fun, that it can result in treats, and that it improves our national security. If your child still does not want to find out his or her results, we suggest placing the card in a shoe box on the top shelf of his or her closet. Your child will inevitably look in the box when he or she is mature enough to accept the concept of mortality.

  Is there a way that people of a certain religion or conscientious objectors can refuse the test?

  No.

  Are there certain CODT results that will lead to my child being detained by Homeland Security?

  There are a lot of things that can turn up on a test. For that reason, we can’t rule this possibility out, but it seems pretty unlikely that we’d need to detain a six-year-old, unless you have reason to believe the child should be detained, in which case we ask you to inform a Mortality Determination Officer immediately.

  Are there any results that may require psychological counseling for my child?

  Not that we can think of. American six-year-olds are generally a hardy bunch. If your child has some sort of problem that leads you to seek a psychologist, bear in mind that the Department of Homeland Security cannot be held accountable for your child’s reaction to his or her CODT result.

  Isn’t it against my constitutional rights to have my CODT result recorded and kept on file by the government?

  Not anymore.