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“Nah, you can’t live without me.”
It’s like the end of the world is actually beginning.
You and your sister shared a womb. You’ll figure it out.”
I’m never going to exist without her again.
an organization that expects us to trust them with no real proof.
Then a shirt does catch my eye. It’s white with Have a Happy End Day! written in a typewriter font across the chest. It’s kind of classy even if I don’t believe an End Day can be happy.
“Some rich-ass clowns were campaigning for Death-Cast to have a platinum tier where the operators would call them before anyone else dying.” Dalma stops dead in her tracks. “Rich people are why we can’t have nice things.”
Which shots I personally prefer ultimately depends on my perspective. But perspectives shift over time too—years, months, weeks, days, hours, even minutes.
He must have a huge heart.
And everyone goes about their lives—their really difficult, complicated lives.
“Speak from your heart,” Dalma says. “Not your dick.”
Sure, some of Joaquin’s intentions have ultimately been limited by the government, and he’s dreading the day that Death-Cast’s power is abused, but for now, he’s been cleared to start the work.
No one standing in Times Square is alone, but it feels that way. I’m the only one going through this right now. Then my eyes find Orion again, like magnetism, and he’s more than familiar with this fear of dying.
but he knows that one person’s ending is simply a contribution to this company’s beginning, and not a result of Death-Cast’s existence.
How long is it going to take for medics to not even bother treating someone if they know they’re a Decker? A week, a month, a year?
If I’m marked to die, does that make me a magnet for death? I don’t know, but it’s a really lonely thought to have. Isn’t the whole point of Deckers getting these End Day calls to give them a chance to get their affairs in order and hug their family and friends one last time?
Perhaps Death-Cast should have remained buried.
I’m done entertaining thoughts on who wants to murder me.
“Did Death-Cast call Orion?” I hear the nurse ask. “No. Let’s not give them any reason to,” Dalma says. That nurse’s question is unreal. There’s been a lot of debate since Death-Cast was announced about what the roles of medical professionals will be when it comes to attending to Deckers. Are resources worth using on a patient who won’t live regardless? Should doctors treat everyone without knowing their End Day status? This idea that if Orion had been called by Death-Cast they might not take care of him is horrifying.
If I’m brought to the hospital later, will the doctors bother trying to save my life? Or will they stand there and watch me die?
It’s heartbreaking how much it costs to be alive when you’re always dying.
Does he not suspect that although tonight is the official launch of the program that Joaquin is no stranger to telling people they’re going to die? Because he isn’t. This may be a first for the country, but it’s not a first for Joaquin.
An even greater truth to be told is that Rolando wouldn’t mind seeing Frankie’s name appear on this computer, promising his death,
The End Day calls are managed by the time zone of a Decker’s registered city. That means had I been here as a visitor, Death-Cast wouldn’t have reached out to me yet.
I’m supposed to believe Death-Cast knows the When, but not the How? I don’t buy it.
“When you’re older,” Joaquin says. “It’s taking too long to be older.”
on his way to a vault where no one can follow.
Valentino stares dead ahead. “Dying is morbid, Orion.”
In a world that currently has no problem leaving people to sleep on the streets, I’m already nervous how Deckers are going to be treated as time goes on.