The Eternal Boredom

He had lived for over two hundred years. He had seen everything there was to see. He had done everything there was to do. He had no more dreams, no more goals, no more passions. He was bored out of his mind.

He was not alone. The world was full of people like him. People who had stopped aging, stopped dying, stopped living. People who had nothing to look forward to, nothing to care about, nothing to feel. People who had become zombies, in all but name.

They had achieved immortality, thanks to the inventions in healthcare. They had cured all diseases, healed all injuries, reversed all aging. They had conquered death, but they had lost life.

They had also lost their children. The birth rate had plummeted, as people saw no point in reproducing. The few children that were born were treated as curiosities, as anomalies, as burdens. They grew up in a world that had no place for them, no future for them, no hope for them.

He had a son, once. He had loved him, once. He had watched him grow up, rebel, leave, and never come back. He had not heard from him in decades. He did not know if he was alive or dead. He did not care.

He had nothing to care about. He had nothing to live for. He had nothing to die for. He had nothing at all.

He wished he could end his misery. He wished he could kill himself. But he could not. He was immortal. He was doomed to exist, forever.

He was bored. He was bored. He was bored!