Submitted for the July 2024 prompt: This Mortal Coil

Gabe woke with a start, sweaty, his heart rapidly pounding in his ears. Miriam walked into the room.

“Good, you’re awake. Breakfast is ready.”

He climbed out of bed as she trotted back into the kitchen.

”Good morning, El,” his daughter said, followed by a kiss on the cheek.

”Please don’t call me El. It’s not even my real name.”

”What is your real name?”

”Gabe.”

”Okay. Good morning, Gabe.”

”No, no. My daughter would call me daddy. Please, call me daddy.”

“Very well. Good morning, daddy.”

”Good morning, Hannah.”

El, a horrid reminder of being Patient-L. Of course, there were 8,932 Patient-L’s before him. L1, L2, L100, and so on. But, since his clinical trial was successful, he had become famous, and known as El. It had originated innocently enough as just the letter L. Some said it was from Patient-L while others believed it had come from the experiment’s title: Project Lazarus. No matter its birth, the entire world quickly saw him as an immortal god and the spelling morphed into El.

Miriam’s voice broke into his thoughts, ”Would you like more eggs, El?”

”Please, call me Gabe or dear or honey. Miriam wouldn’t have called me El.”

”I’m terribly sorry. More eggs?”

”Yes, please.” Gabe slouched in his chair. Who would ever want to be immortal?

When the government approached him about participating in a study group, it had sounded exciting. The thought of never dying was attractive. But, honestly, immortality left him a shell of a person. His body was as healthy as it had ever been. But he was tired of living. Exhaustion had replaced the vitality of a young spirit leaving him trapped inside this perpetual prison of a body.

He wasn’t supposed to have been the only successful participant of Project Lazarus. After nearly 9,000 attempts, they finally achieved the miracle they’d been seeking. Using RNA-guided targeting with CRISPR/Cas9z manipulation of the human genome, the lab coats had created a superhuman enhancement - aka immortality. But just as no one before Gabe had survived the treatment, no subject after Gabe had either. Eventually, due to funding issues, the project was abandoned, leaving Gabe as the sole survivor, the sole demigod.

“Today’s the big day,” Hannah interjected, “it’s your birthday.” She jumped up and down while holding onto the other side of the kitchen table. Miriam turned from the countertop to face Gabe. She was holding a cupcake with a single candle in it, flame flickering.

Hannah and Miriam sang Happy Birthday as Miriam carefully sat the small treat on the table in front of Gabe. “Make a wish and blow it out,” she said.

Gabe closed his eyes trying to bury his anger and resume the charade.

”Go ahead,” Miriam encouraged, “you only turn 890 once.”

”Stop it! Stop it!” Gabe screamed. “Sims off.” The room went dark. Only the gloomy emptiness of the ruinous city outside his windows remained. Everything was gone. Everyone was gone.

Tears streamed down Gabe’s face as he longed for the wife and child who had died centuries earlier. In that moment he would have given anything for one other human to exist on this planet that had been ravaged by war, disease, pestilence, and environmental erosion.

He collapsed onto the floor, left alone with the only promise immortality could ever keep: a life of despair.