Deathless

by Catherynne M. Valente

The Party is a wonderful, marvelous invention, and it has taught us wonderful, marvelous things—chiefly, that we can cause more trouble with less effort by filing complaints than by breaking teacups.”

Of late, she had felt that coldness in herself, and though she feared it, she loved it too, for it made her strong.

Baba Yaga whirled on her, the tails of her fur coat whipping around. “Don’t you call me comrade, little girl. We aren’t equals and we aren’t friends. Chairman Yaga. That comrade nonsense is just a hook by which the low pull down the high. And then what do you get? Everyone rolling around in the same shit, like pigs.”

“Husbands lie, Masha. I should know; I’ve eaten my share.

Do you have any idea how much I know about men? And women! Don’t look so shocked—after an eon or two of being a wife you’ll want one of your own, too.

Surely you didn’t think deathless meant dickless.

But forever isn’t bright; it isn’t like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.”

You promise the same things, and neither of you delivers.”