The Eternal Cycle of Life and Death

Gunther finally let out a long-awaited groan. All his aches and sores came blasting through his system, drowning his nerves in torturous agony. He had been holding it in for too long.

With considerable effort, he rested Bread’s body onto the floor next to him. The blank eyes stared back. Gone into hibernation. That was to be expected. It wouldn’t make sense for him to be awake during the uploading procedure. 

He just hoped it worked.

One.

The process began with the numbers appearing in the center of Bread’s eyes like a ticking time bomb. One percent done. Only ninety-nine more to go.

He leaned up against the wall. All he had to do now was stay alive until the end. The upload speed was so damn slow though. Seems like I won’t be getting back for the birthday cake…

Three.

Did Azan turn on the A/C again? His arms were clammy, his fingers numb… He glanced at the hole in his chest. Blood gushed out like a waterfall… Could he actually survive this?

No, not a chance.

The nearest paramedics would take an hour just to get up here, and the surgery would take even longer. He already knew that he wasn’t going to make it, but weirdly enough, he didn’t feel much of anything.

Seven.

From the open, glass window, he could feel the cool, summer breeze flowing through. But no drones, no planes… Nothing. It was silent. Oddly quiet. Lonely? He peered down at Bread’s motionless body.

Perhaps just a bit.

Eleven.

When was the last time he’d had so much time to think? When was the last time he could’ve been this… introspective? He had all these excruciatingly long minutes to himself. Alone in the void of his mind. When was the last time he’d had to think back to all the things that had happened in his life? He was sure the answer to that was—

Never. Not once.

There was no time before. No time to waste away celebrating or even enjoying the small things in life. He was working. All the time. And he truly believed that he’d enjoy it all after death. But now that it was here, he couldn’t help but wonder…

Was it really worth it?

Twenty-five.

He watched the fiery star laze away in the distance. It was bright, vibrant. Not at all too intense. That overwhelming heat and humidity. That fluctuation, change in temperature. Contrast. Unpredictability…

It was different.

Simular wasn’t. It was always the same weather, same schedule. It never deviated from the norm. Everything was comfortable and convenient. Everything operated like clockwork—smooth and predictable. Cyclical. Simular was perfect. Too perfect. There was never a surprise when he was there.

But life wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was supposed to have ups and downs. It was supposed to have conflicts, deviations. That was what made living feel so fulfilling. Life wasn’t supposed to feel so… artificial.

These last few weeks taught him that much. It was eventful. Dangerous and full of surprise. Full of new experiences… It was enjoyable. One of the best moments he’d ever had. And it all started with Bread…

Forty-nine.

His vision started to blur; he slumped to the ground. His body felt like water… He was sweating so much. And he was so tired… So sleepy…

Just a bit longer… He just had to withstand the drowsiness. Then he could go… Meet his mother. Ask her for forgiveness. For all that he had done. Ask her if she was still truly proud of him for making it this far… 

Sixty-two.

Flashes of memories flew past his eyes—his time with Azan, his mother… Even those short moments with Mrs. Morgan… And it made him wonder if he truly did have a good life. After all that had happened, he had money. All that fame. He had achieved things that most couldn’t ever dream of achieving.

But was he really happy?

He created Simular—one of the greatest inventions of humankind. And he was known by all as The Creator… What more could someone ever wish for in this selfish society of wealth and status? But deep down, he knew that this was fleeting. All of this was.

It was only at this moment that he mattered. It was only in this decade that Simular was the greatest. In a few centuries or even years, somebody brighter and more innovative would take that throne. And he’d be forgotten like all the others before him.

That was the course of humanity. An inevitability of a species that built upon the previous generations.

But it was good enough, right? For just one person, he did fine, right?

Seventy-four.

He was so cold. The ground was cold… His head throbbed. Just a bit longer… He had to hold on. Just a bit longer…

He gazed over at Bread once more. He watched the numbers slowly climb their way up. One by one… And he hoped. He hoped so dearly that he’d make it back. Because to him, Bread was…

“My… greatest mistake… and my proudest… creation…”

Eighty-seven.

He peered over at the limp body in the corner.

“What do you think… Azan?” His breathing slowed even further. “My… lifelong friend…” It was hard to even speak. He just wanted to close his eyes. “You think I… lived… a good life?”

Azan’s unconscious eyes stared him back.

“Of course… you do…”

Ninety-six.

“But I told you… I told you Bread was…”

Ninety-nine.

“Special…”