The Eternal

2051

The doctors called it a miracle. Stage four pancreatic cancer gone overnight. The Leader emerged from the medical facility looking twenty years younger. Experimental treatments, they said. Breakthrough technology. The people celebrated in the streets.

2089

His son bore a striking resemblance. The same pale eyes. The same particular gestures when speaking. How he knew the names of factory workers from decades past. How he remembered conversations only the father could have had. Genetics, the advisors explained. Strong bloodlines run true.

2134

The grandson was identical. Perfectly identical. The whispers began in the bread lines. In the factory dormitories. But whispers died quickly in the white vans that came at night. Questions were unpatriotic. Questions were treason.

2187

The broadcasts showed archived footage. The Leader at twenty. At forty. At seventy. At twenty again. The same face cycling through the decades like seasons. The children learned it in school now. How science served the state. How the state served forever.

2241

The riots lasted three days. Bodies in the streets. Then the food trucks arrived. Medicine for the sick. Jobs for the desperate. Order restored. What did it matter if he lived forever? Had anyone else offered bread?