The End Specialist. Drew Magary

about what is fair. As part of my executive order, all citizens who get the cure will no longer be eligible for Social Security or Medicare benefits, regardless of how long they live. Furthermore, in accordance with the recommendation of doctors across the country, no citizen under the age of twenty-six will be allowed to purchase the cure. Doctors who violate this edict will have their licenses revoked and be subject to swift prosecution. I also take this moment to again condemn the attacks on doctors administering the cure in New York and Oregon. Anyone found to be coordinating terrorist attacks against doctors offering the cure will be subject to federal prosecution and the death penalty.

      This has been a tragic, awful day in our history. Four of our own were killed in New Hampshire. Our hearts go out to them and their families. We grieve and pray with them, and we promise to take all possible measures to prevent deaths like theirs from ever occurring again. They were four young people, passionate in the cause of retaining their youth, of seeing what they could make of a life extended indefinitely by the miracles of technology. They were willing to fight for what they believed in, for their personal liberty, and that makes them Americans to the very core. We will not forget them, nor shall we let them die in vain.

      The nation that adapts to the effects of this cure and masters a world changed by postmortality is the nation that will lead the world into the next century and well beyond. Today, I declare my faith that we can and will be that nation. So many gave for our future, and now that future fully belongs to us all. We are ready. We have no other choice.

      God bless us all, and God bless the United States of America.

      I heard cheers burst out from the street as the President closed his remarks. I looked out the window and saw protesters hugging and raising their fists in victory. They sang songs and drank from open containers. I could see the excitement in their faces, the pure delirium at all the new and wonderful (and legal) possibilities. They had the same look in their faces that Katy had just as we were walking to the doctor’s office.

      Date Modified: 8/14/2019, 9:11PM

      “The Floodgates Are Wide Open”

      I’ve tried to pull together as many responses to the President’s speech as I could. Here’s what I’ve gathered so far:

      The Atlantic:

      Proof once again that we Americans can get what we want if we simply stomp and scream for something like the immature schoolchildren that we are. Those protesters in New Hampshire weren’t, as the president implied, banging on the Capitol doors for some grand, noble cause. The idea that they sacrificed themselves like the soldiers at Iwo Jima is farcical and an insult to our intelligence. They did it for themselves and no one else. They weren’t sacrificing for the future. They were trying to hog it. This generation hasn’t had to sacrifice one bit, and its reward for such callousness is now eternal life. It’s a classic American scenario of people wanting everything right now without caring a lick about the long term. You could excuse that by saying, “Well, that’s just the way we are.” Well, the way we are is going to cost us everything.

      Bob Mandel’s feed:

      It’s like eating a sausage pizza. You know it’s gonna kill you. But it’s not going to kill you now, so who gives a shit? Let’s eat.

      My dad:

      Well, now I kind of want to get it. Just to see how all this plays out.

      Allan Atkins:

      He’s the most gutless president we have ever had. He is a liar, a fraud, a terrorist appeaser, and a criminal. If that Times report about the soldiers taking the cure never came out, you never see last night’s speech. I guarantee you that. People had to die for this man to finally listen to me. Troops had to flagrantly disobey their superiors for this man to listen to me. And then, when he finally does listen to me, he legalizes the cure in the clumsiest, most insincere manner possible. It’s disgusting. I am disgusted, and you should be too.

      That said, I’m glad he finally legalized it. And now I can finally tell you all: I got it, baby! You’re never gonna get rid of me now!

      Choosedeath.org:

      You have no idea what you’ve just done.

      My sister:

      He legalized it? Oh, Christ. I think I’m gonna pass out. Am I the last person to know this? I am, aren’t I?

      Joe Weis (NBC):

      In the end, the President had no choice but to legalize the cure. Those who would criticize him for his handling of the entire situation need to step back for a moment and consider the issue this president was facing. This is a problem unlike anything any leader of any kind has ever been faced with. Did we really expect this man to handle the issue of the cure perfectly when it stands poised to tip the entire planet on its axis? His first instinct, the correct instinct, was to be cautious with it for as long as possible. Well, turns out three years was as long as possible. He bravely admitted it was a mistake on his part to stall, but he didn’t need to apologize for it. Those three years of waiting allowed him time to decide how to best regulate the cure in a sensible manner. The President spoke of a grim reality that will soon descend upon us all. Well, it seems he is one of the few people out there who has tried to envision what that reality will look like and how we will deal with it. His words were hopeful last night, but the concern in his eyes was unmistakable. He is bracing himself for what’s ahead, and he wants us to do likewise. Because the floodgates are open now.

      The floodgates are wide open.

      After the President’s speech last night, I took a long walk uptown. The barricades had been taken down and the protesters had dissipated. The entire city seemed to breathe again. Everyone was smiling. Happy. Possibly drunk. The honeymoon was in full swing.

      I walked by the UN building: no longer besieged. I walked by the posters on First Avenue. There were no anti-cure messages there this time. Just a bunch of Pepsi ads. I walked by the doctor’s apartment and the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge. Everything felt normal. Everything felt the way it should be. The world was functional again.

      But deep in my marrow, I know it won’t stay that way.

      Date Modified: 8/15/2019, 10:21AM

      II

       Spread: June 2029

      (Ten Years Later)

      Photo No. 3,650

      I took my picture again this morning. Still the same. The nose. The eyes. The brow. The chin. Nothing has sagged. No creases have formed. I scrolled through the “Face” folder in my library to compare it with the others. There’s no real variation, except for when I get a haircut. That’s the only time there’s any noticeable difference. My hair gets a little bit longer and a little bit longer, then I get a cut and my image resets, like one of those antique typewriters that slides back into place whenever you hit the carriage return. Though the hair gets longer, not a whisper of it gets grayer.

      One day I drew a star on my cheek, just to mix things up. You can see it fade over the course of a week or so. Everyone at work looked at me like I was an unruly toddler after I did that. I’ve tried to keep the same expression throughout the photos, as a control mechanism. But there are some photos where I couldn’t hide my mood. The ones where I’m hung over are fairly easy to detect. I don’t look happy to have my picture taken, even though I’m the pushy fella who’s insisting it be done.

      So there are some slight differences there, but the fundamental aspects of my face are identical from each day to the next. If you made a flipbook of it, it would be the most boring film imaginable. The only exciting part is when the star pops up. I haven’t changed. I haven’t grown. The supposed character that aging features provides has not been bestowed on me. You wouldn’t know that I’ve lived ten years between the first photo and the last. All 3,650 photos could—if not for my hair—have been taken on the same day. The time span is invisible. It’s as if I haven’t lived at all.

      I have a friend who struggles with his weight from time to time. He’ll reach a certain weight and then grow completely intolerant of what he’s become. So he’ll