Day Five
The Prompt
Everyone has a number floating above their head. The date they’ll die. Except me. Mine just says: “Error.”
My Creative Take
Everyone has a number floating above their head. The date they’ll die. Except me. Mine just says: “Error.”
When I told my family that I’d need more tests to unlock the reason I didn’t have a number, my father looked at me with quiet disappointment.
I continued to explain. “It’s cruel not knowing. Not being able to see the end. People treat me differently, like I’m broken. An outcast. Ever since 2099, when technology advanced enough to predict the exact moment of death, society changed. We began to live more intentionally, with greater compassion. Knowing when someone’s time was almost up made us softer, kinder, more present.”
I paused, and then added, “There’s something beautiful in watching the countdown above a loved one’s head, even when it hurts. You know how much time you have left. You make it count.”
They stared at me, but no one said anything.
I took a breath. “But AI still can’t explain the 5%. You know, people like me. The ones with ‘Error’. Some say it’s a genetic mutation, a flaw in the code that blocks the nanotech responsible for calculating death. Whatever the reason, it makes us an anomaly.”
I looked down and my hands and back into their eyes. “It’s humiliating. Unjust. Everyone else gets to plan for their end, to say goodbye on their own terms. People like me just… drop. No warning. No closure.”
I swallowed hard. “So, I made a choice. I put my name on the list. And today, the Death Council granted my request. I’ve been given a final date. I know, I’m only twenty two, but this is important for my overall health.
“When?” My father asked.
“Tomorrow.”
For a moment, silence. Then cheers erupted. My family rose, arms outstretched. My parents pulled me into a tight embrace. The pride in their eyes told me everything.
I had made the right decision.
My Thoughts
When I started writing this, I thought about how we are all conditioned with what we consider norms. In the 80’s gender identity was unheard of and yet today, it’s accepted by many as a “norm.”
So when I wrote this, it was the calm, almost clinical delivery of a society obsessed with “knowing” which becomes a quiet horror, and the most chilling part isn’t the technology. It’s the acceptance. The family’s cheers at the end cut deep and should make them question everything.
I hope you felt a society where empathy is artificial, where love is measured against numbers, where the unknown is feared and rejected. After all, this twenty-two year old kid would rather know he has a date to die, even if it’s tomorrow, then live not knowing when.
I’ve rambled enough.