[ WP ] Suicidal people can choose to `` gift '' remaining years to other people on Earth .

The day hung like a cloud of fear over the heads of the population of Pyongyang. The great leader had fallen ill; of course no *official* statement had been made to the fact, but when the city made the announcement of the upcoming selections, it was known without words the implication. 
 
 
 
 The crowds began to form in the town square. Children stood close to their parents, and all wore solemn masks for faces. Men in uniform were preparing the final details of the ceremony on a large stage that served as the front of the crowd. The square seemed to be overcast with a grey haze, save for the splendid golden chair two men were now moving to the centre of the stage, and the gorgeous golden spiral staircase that led to the top of a 15 metre platform. More men in uniform ushered the crowds into strict, tight rows. The first thing Sang noticed was how badly the pressure in his bladder was building, and how there was nowhere around him to relieve himself. Not that the guards would let him move a foot out of line anyways. At the last selection six years prior, Sang saw a young man, no older than seventeen, attempt to flee the ceremony. He was gunned down before he could turn to the only exit. 
 
 
 
 The only sounds came from the the guards, barking their orders aggressively, daring any man, woman, or child to challenge them. The square was almost full now, though its occupants stood still and silent as tombstones in a graveyard. Sang felt in his pocket for his identification card, and with it, the identification number that he could be selected from. 2460201. What were the odds? He was but one molecule in a sea of the downcast. He tried to be optimistic, but failed miserably. His father had been chosen in the last selection, making him the man of the house. He tried every day to lift his mother and sisters spirits with positive thoughts and good nature, but he felt like he was drowning. 
 
 
 `` ATTENTION!'' 
 
 
 The crowd snapped ridged.. No one moved. The breath was caught in their throats. 
 
 
 Kim Jung Un graced the stage, and every eye found its mark. Even in poor health, the great leader walked with a confidence and pride befit his role as the commander of our nation. Slowly, the young general made his way to his golden throne, never once acknowledging the crowd, and he finally turned towards them and sat. 
 
 
 `` WHEN YOU HEAR YOUR NUMBER CALLED, MARCH BRAVELY FORWARD FOR YOUR FAMILIES, YOUR ANCESTORS, AND YOUR LEADER!'' 
 
 
 Sang looked to his feet, terror gripping his chest. What if his mother was selected? Or his little sister? What if they were, and he was n't? 
 
 
 `` 3063827!'' 
 `` 2986416!'' 
 `` 1553779!'' 
 
 
 The speaker stopped. Three. Only three. He breathed a bit easier. His mother and sister were safe. For now. 
 
 
 Cries broke out some twenty feet in front of him. A woman was in hysterics, crouched to the ground, weeping. Two guards grabbed her roughly and dragged her to the front. 
 
 
 There was no knowing *how* the great leader accomplished this supernatural feat, but the great leader is a powerful man, capable of changing the face of the world. The peoples sacrifice was for the greater good of mankind. 
 
 
 
 The three selected were now on the stage. The woman was supported by her two escorts, and two men stood next to them. One a man in his mid twenties, looking strong despite the tears that came unwillingly to his eyes, the other an older man, who looked as if he may vomit at a moments notice. 
 
 
 
 The woman was sent first. Through heavy, rasping breaths, she quietly mumbled the sacred oath. The oath they would all speak before ascending the gold staircase. 
 
 
 `` I... Give my body, my spirit and... My life.... For the glory... of Kim Jung Un, and the North Korean Empire.'' 
 
 
 The guards took her to the staircase, and dragged her up every step to the top. They seemed so small and insignificant to Sang... Maybe they were. Maybe this was the only way. 
 
 
 At the top, the woman collapsed on the flat platform. The guards stood on the top stairs, guns drawn and aimed at the crouched woman. They could go no further. She had to do it herself, and if she did n't, another would be selected. 
 
 
 
 The guard shouted something Sang could n't hear. They lifted their guns, shouting louder now. The woman let out a bloodcurdling shriek that seemed to never end until, without warning... 
 
 
 *bang* 
 
 
 
 She fell unwillingly to the hard concrete below. Two young men in uniform drug her body from where it landed out of sight. A long slick of blood trailed her body as it left the stage. 
 
 
 Both remaining men gave themselves with great honour and pride to the great leader. You could almost see his health improve as the witchcraft gave him their remaining life. They'll call him The Eternal General, Sang thought, as the announcer came once more out of the corner to announce the final selection. 
 
 
 `` 2460201!'' 
 
 
 Sangs heart plummeted, but his feet marched forward despite. He could n't look at his mother and sister. He could n't hug them, or he was certain he would never let go. 
 
 
 He was pulled onto the stage by the two guards who had grabbed the woman from the crowd. Their hands were cold and rough. He was shoved in front of the great leader, mere metres away. Kim Jung Un met Sangs gaze, and gave him a small nod. The pit in his stomach grew. He began to cry, and suddenly his bladder was too small for his body. The great leaders expression changed to a cold, disgusted glare. 
 
 
 Wet and ashamed, Sang was turned to the audience, where he would say his final words to the nation. He blubbered through the oath, wishing he could be brave, but he could n't help but think of his family, and how it was all going to end. It was over. 
 
 
 
 The guards came to grab him, but he turned briskly towards the bottom of the staircase. He would n't be grabbed. He would do his himself. He had to. He would n't embarrass his family, and his leader, anymore than he had done already. Each ascending step took all of his strength, weighing him down the higher he rose. After what seemed like a few short seconds, though it had been at least two minutes, he rose to the top. Pyongyang was spread out in front of him, and the population stood still. The tombstones. Fearing his actions will cause them to be next. 
 
 
 
 In that moment, Sang felt surprisingly powerful. The nation depended on him. The great leader depended on him. There was no looking back. He could show no doubt. He stepped forward into the air, and as the ground rushed up to meet him, a smile came to his lips.
