by John Xero
Mass immortality had become the bane of Samuel’s life. Science was to blame. No disease, no old age, no natural death.
What work for a gravedigger when nobody dies?
Sam had a god-given gift. There were so many pretenders who thought any hole would do, so few who understood the nature of the abyss. There was a hole left when a person died, and a hole to be made, and the two were not entirely unrelated.
He took up his shovel; it was a fine tool and it would serve him twofold now. Not an elegant solution, but needs must.