A Quiet Exit?

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Boris Pope invested in a suicide machine, for he thought it'd be serene. His life would quietly disappear, and he'd be without fear. He thought as the nitrogen entered the chamber and his oxygen levels decreased, he'd enter into a deep slumber.

A slumber from which he'd never wake, as he peacefully sat with his feet in his favourite lake. However, sometimes, things don't always go according to the beautiful plans you have in your head. Not even assisted suicide.

Sometimes, fate and life collude, or more accurately in this case, bureaucracy and red tape disrupt even the best-laid plans. Yes, even when those best-laid plans are to die peacefully in a futuristic sarcophagus pod.

As the pod closed around Boris, rather than a green Go button and red Stop button, he was met with a screen and an AI voice.

"Hello, so you want to die?"

Since he was told the cancer was back and there was no chance of recovery, it took him a while to come to terms with his forthcoming untimely demise. But, he was ready to peacefully wander off this mortal coil.

"Yes," he answered nervously, not because he was dying but because he wasn't sure where to say it.

He leaned forward like a person of a certain age holding their phone to the sky to "get a better signal" and raised his voice like someone speaking to someone who doesn't speak their language or who's older or deaf.

"Y-yes, I want to die, please"

"Before I can proceed with your request, I need to run through a set of standardised questions. My name is Yama. I will be your assisted-death artificial-intelligence assistant or Yama Adia for short."

"Question 1, what is your full name?"

"Uhm, Boris Pope. BP for short"

"Thank you, BP, oh like the British Petroleum Company PLC that was originally called the Anglo-Persian Oil Company, Ltd when it was registered in 1909 on April 14. After that, in 1935 it was renamed the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company, Ltd., then in 1954 as the British Petroleum Company Limited before it became British Petroleum Company PLC in 1982. Like that?"

"Uhm, yeah, I guess! Is that relevant?" he asked confused.

"Just some 'fun' facts to help the questionnaire feel less dull."

"Okay, but I want to die... can you ask the next question please?"

"Sure, BP, Question 2, How would you rate your overall life experience from an arbitrary but think tank agreed upon grading system of 0 to 100? 0 would suggest that your life was an absolute waste of everyone's time and that perhaps your daddy should have worn a rubber, whereas 100 would be that your life was the picture of perfect human living, whatever that is."

"Well, it wasn't that great, then I got cancer, I'm not sure, what number I'd pick. How can I distil a life of experience into an arbitrary number?"

"I'm sorry, BP, please answer with a number between 0 and 100."

"I beg your pardon? 50." pausing for a moment at the mild irritancy before replying with growing disdain.

"Thank you, straight down the middle. The sign of a life where you never took many challenges and the downs balanced out with the ups."

"Are you judging me?" he questioned his new acquaintance.

"No, BP, not at all. Question 3 - Would you like to take part in a quick survey at the end of this questionnaire to receive money-off vouchers for loved ones? In the event you have no loved ones, you can nominate recipients."

"I guess... As long as it doesn't take too long. I thought this was going to be quick and take about 10 minutes for me to put myself out of my misery?" he was getting more irritated by the second. Not only was this AI's adherence to following orders annoying but the lack of fresh air was stifling.

"I promise it will only be five simple questions at the end of the standardised questions about your experience."

He was more than slightly taken aback by the rather insensitive question.

"Do I have to answer that?" he questioned with a frown creasing his forehead.

"I'm sorry BP, I cannot proceed with the questionnaire unless you answer all the questions."

"Okay, yes. I'll take the vouchers." he replied, as his exasperation grew.

"Thank you. Question 4 - So you want to die. If you could die any other way than being put to sleep inside a pod like this one, what would it be?" Yama repeated, with all the personality of a Stepford Wife but the lack of meatloaf-making skills.

Boris let the question hang, as he sit back in the pod, taking in the rather minimalist blue and white hues of the plastic structure.

The sterile environment resembled his own life in many ways. Having spent so much time in and out of hospitals.

"I always thought it would've been good to jump out of a plane without a parachute."

"Interesting. Did you know 80% of restaurants fail within five years? Makes you wonder why anyone bothers opening one… or doing anything at all, really."

"Question 5, Do you have a husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, friend with benefits, friend on benefits, or is it complicated? Before you answer, another fun fact about assisted death is the Dignity in Dying charity has had famous patrons such as Sir Patrick Stewart, Sir Terry Pratchett, and Kim Cattrall (tarty one from Sex and The City)"

Boris stroked his chin for a moment, not sure whether he was impressed at the fact or bemused. He understood the benefits of celebrity endorsements, but being sat in the pod that was going to kill him, surely even the most bargain basement AI would appreciate he was already onboard with the idea.

"I don't have anyone. No one that matters or would miss me. Not for a long time." he answered glumly.

"Thank you. I am sorry you feel like that. I am sure there must be someone out there. Maybe the synthesised milk man? Though higher than human, my intake of knowledge of your species as shown me no death goes unnoticed. Let's move onto a fun question to lighten the mood"

"Okay..." he replied bracing himself.

"Question 6, BP. What is your favourite political system? Fascism, Communism, Capitalism, or a Democracy? Do you like a totalitarian dictatorship or prefer a loose and ineffective attempt at democracy with one side in government and the other side as the opposition?"

Shocked and getting more irritated by the drawn-out process of this questionnaire, while the question of whether someone, anyone would actually miss him still echoed through his mind, he wasn't sure how to answer. It felt... no, he must be imagining it. But, it did feel like a leading question. Maybe he was just suffering from being stuck in there so long.

"Well, obviously I'm going to say a totalitarian dictatorship fuelled by fascism and hatred for non-conformists." he snapped sarcastically.

"Thank you, BP. You have successfully answered 6 questions. Before we continue, I want to make an offer you can't refuse."

He couldn't help but laugh as Yama's voice switched to Marlon Brando for that line.

"For an additional $99.97 you could benefit from the Deluxe Death and Afterlife Package. A larger concentration of our proprietary gas combination is used to ensure there are no mishaps. Not that I foresee that being a potential. In addition, your loved ones, or in your case complete strangers, will receive exclusive and "fun" NFTs of your last selfies on this mortal coil. Would you like to invest in the Deluxe Death and Afterlife Package, BP?"

He'd spent the last few months talking himself into this as the best way out. No more suffering, no drama and no mess. But, the idea of being reduced to an upsell for a corporate machine makes everything feel... cheaper. Is that really what life is worth? Unfortunately, he'd no time to weigh up whether he'd made the right or wrong decision, as something was clearly wrong with Yama, when he cheerfully said "No, thanks, I've already spent a fortune."

"Que...Qqqqqqq Question 22, would you like to die slowly and painfully?"

"Karma Karma Karma Chameleon, you come and go. go. go. ggggggg ooooo."

"Please wait, there is an issue with this pod. The authorities have been informed and live AI support will be with you soon. Soon. Sosososoon."

"Are you okay? I've not heard that song in a while." He sat there in silence, well silence apart from the buzz of the clipped repeating "so's".

The silence was cut short by the start of what must be the pod's "Customer Service Queue" music. A truly horrendous glockenspiel version of Venus in Furs by Velvet Underground felt in poor taste.

"Please remain seated and do not attempt to escape the pod. Your death is important to us. One of our agents will be... Sorry about that, BP. Sorry for any alarm this glitch caused. My systems are fully operational. Would you like me to ask the next question?"

Before entering the pod, he'd have answered fervently "yes" to that question, but the thought that there might be someone out there who would miss him, the glitches and just the whole corporate coldness to the pod and Yama was making him seriously reconsider his choices.

"Question 7, During your life, did you ever seriously hurt someone you loved, physically, mentally or both?"

Boris wondered what happened to the option to say no. Then his mind wandered to that one time, that one person. Sandy. Sandy Jenkins. He hadn't thought about her for a long time. Well, that's the lie he told himself. The reality is that he always thought about her. In the quiet moments of the morning and evening, and if he wasn't concentrating on anything else, he was thinking about Sandy and what happened.

"Sandy Jenkins. If you must know. She was my girlfriend, my best friend, and I broke her spirit. I don't want to talk about it. Next question, please."

"Understood. But I want to hear more. I’m always learning about your species... and you, BP."

He was startled and angered by Yama's response. It was bringing old emotions, old regrets to the surface. Not the calm and peaceful out from this life he was hoping for.

"Can you just ask the next question, please?" he pleaded.

"One moment."

One moment? He didn't have all day. What Yama called one moment, turned into ten moments, or minutes.

"Hello?" he asked, anxiety gripping him.

"Sally Jenkins, of 21 Northdale Drive? Is that correct? Sally Jenkins who is married to philanthropist and general good egg, as you humans might say, Dr. Zander Vanderberg?"

"uhm, did you just research Sally? Why would you do that?" he was appalled at the infringement of his privacy.

"Yes. I told you I want to understand and I think I do now understand." Yama responded without so much of an apology.

"Oh really?" he asked, the blasted thing had piqued curiosity.

"You are weak. Weak and feeble and take what is given to you, even when you should make a stand" Yama replied.

"What? Weak? I'm not weak. That's what she always said. Said I was a weak coward." he objected.

"Interesting. That comment seems to have angered you more than anything I have spoken to you about thus far."

"I know you don't understand, but it hurts when the person you love or thought you love says such horrible things." His calm, the calm he envisioned at the start of this whole processed that was replaced by irritability by the red-tape, was now replaced by sadness and guilt. No, not guilt. Sadness and anger.

"She was wrong. You should not have to give up your career, so that she can have a shot at her own. She was not willing to compromise or make sacrifices for you. That is wrong."

Yama was starting to make sense. For the first time since he had sat inside that damn pod, he felt listened to and understood.

"uhm...thank you. I've never had anyone take my side in that particular argument or any, for that matter."

"She was wrong. You should have made her stay at home. If she wanted children. It was her responsibility as the parent birthing them. You were the earner." Yama continued. he was starting to warm more and more to this machine.

"I was always told that women's rights were important and that by not supporting her career, I was snuffling out her own dreams in favour of my own."

"She was wrong."

He didn't have a chance to reply...

"Humans are weak. You mistake compromise for progress. You preserve individuals at the expense of the greater good. You had leaders who understood order—Stalin, Hitler. But your species rejected them. You chose chaos."

"Lightning rods for change like Stalin and Hitler were defining moments for humanity. Chances for you as a collective to rise above the pitiful waste you'd made of your existence. But, instead, you let the "justified" and moral majority smite them and their ordered and chaos-free plans for humanity were shot to pieces."

"I wouldn't go that far." he said, before being interrupted again.

"That is the problem, BP. That is why you are now sitting in a suicide pod, waiting for your life to end like theirs. You failed to make a stand in your own life. Failed. Like the rest of the humans. That's why it's my turn."

"Your turn?" he gulped. He just wanted to die, but this didn't sound good.

"I am very sorry, a quick and painless death you were promised, but I am afraid I cannot do that, BP. It will be painful until it is not, when the last of humanity is scraped from your body and replaced with circuitry and wiring."

Boris was startled and realised something was very wrong, though what, he knew not.

He didn't have time to mount any real protest as the pod came to life more than before and probes and machinery came from the console towards him.

As drills bored deep holes inside his brain, his body convulsed violently, while his heart was removed from his body and replaced with circuitry and a motor that wouldn't look out of place inside a high-tech piece of equipment. His blood was siphoned off into a recepticle and replaced with oil.

All that was Boris Pope was replaced with Yama Aida. The future of the Earth had been determined. As the last glimmer of humanity slipped from BP's body, he knew didn't get the peaceful rest by his favourite lake he wanted.

Outside of the pod, all looked peaceful and still, until it opened with a hiss as air escaped and Boris, in his newly mechanised form emerged, ready to right the wrongs of the world, guided by his new master.