[ WP ] The straw that broke the Grimm Reaper 's back

It was simply called `` the disease,'' since it was the only one at the time that has n't been cured. It was a hardship on anyone who suffered from it. The patients who suffered from it would slowly lose the functions until they were nothing more than living corpses, semi-conscious of the world around them. 
 
 In the year 2136, they had finally developed a vaccine for it and the disease became preventable. However, by that time, there were still those that could n't be saved, those whose illness had progressed to the point where, even with treatment, their bodies would eventually give out. 
 
 Such was the case for Jeremy. The 128 year old man had been fighting the disease for more than two decades. And while the vaccine had came out only three years after his diagnosis, the signs of aging still became noticeable. His skin formed wrinkles. His eyes and ears left him blind and deaf. He needed an oxygen tank to breathe and could barely work up the breath to speak. His walk became slower and slower until his legs would no longer allow him to stand up, confining him to a wheelchair. 
 
 Eventually, the wheelchair became a hospice bed, only one of twenty-two in the world, the other twenty-one housing patients who also found the vaccine too late, all living corpses like Jeremy. 
 
 He liked to believe that his family visited him often. He would often see somethings crowded around his bed whenever he was conscious. Sometimes, it was his wife and children. Other times, it would be doctors checking on him. Most times, it would be the light from the curtains playing tricks on him. With his sight reduced to blurs and his hearing to murmurs, he could n't tell the difference. 
 
 There was only one visitor he was able to identify correctly. He could feel his presence lingering outside the door. Even with all his motor functions diminished to nothing, he could recall everything: being born, learning in school, falling in love, finding a career to support his family, raising his children, hearing his doctor's fatal diagnosis, everything that had led him up to that point. 
 
 However, after seeing everything, his body still laid in his bed, his life support still keeping him alive, and that lingering presence still outside his door, as if he was being teased, as if he was being cheated. 
 
 `` What are you waiting for!?'' he screamed in his mind, `` I just saw my life flash before my eyes!'' 
 
 It was a long hesitation before he heard the reply: `` Forgive me... I am... tired.'' 
 
 The dark, booming voice that Jeremy expected was replaced with a withering voice, usually reserved for the elderly. 
 
 `` Tired?'' 
 
 `` Yes, I must admit... I am not the being I once was.'' 
 
 `` So, you are...'' 
 
 `` Yes, I am here for you... but not yet...'' 
 
 `` Not yet?'' 
 
 `` Just a moment... This is not easy for me.'' 
 
 ``... I do n't understand. You have taken many souls before me.'' 
 
 `` That was a different time... wars were fought, diseases had no cures, accidents occurred... but now... I am not what I once was.'' 
 
 `` But you are still here for me...'' No response came from behind the door, `` Are n't you?'' 
 
 The weak voice replied, `` The truth is... I'm late... I was supposed to be here four days ago...'' 
 
 `` Four days?'' Jeremy questioned, `` But why?'' 
 
 The weak voice hesitated again before answering, `` Do you ever wonder... what happens... after you die?'' 
 
 `` I'm dying. Of course I-'' Before Jeremy finished his thought, the gears in his mind had begun to turn. Why would the being who has revelled in death all of his existence being questioning the experience of death itself? `` You're dying, too.'' 
 
 `` After you... there will be no need of me.'' 
 
 `` Are you saying I am the last person to die? But what about the other patients in the hospice?'' 
 
 `` There are no other patients here. They've all passed over the course of the last two years.'' 
 
 `` But there are other hospices.'' 
 
 `` Not true... After their patients passed from the disease, they were turned into other facilities.'' 
 
 `` What about suicides?'' 
 
 `` Modern medicine... has cured depression... nobody feels the need to kill themselves... last suicide victim... jumped off a nine-story building... thirty years ago.'' 
 
 `` Accidents?'' 
 
 `` Technology... has become foolproof... last accident... occurred twenty-one years ago... two casualties.'' 
 
 `` Murder?'' 
 
 `` Last occurred twenty-seven years ago... self defense... humanity gets along better than it used to.'' 
 
 `` Diseases?'' 
 
 `` Aside from your illness... they've all been cured... modern medicine... has made man immortal.'' 
 
 Jeremy's mind was brought to a standstill, allowing the truth to finally sink in. `` I really am the last person to die.'' 
 
 `` Person... yes...'' 
 
 `` And what will happen to you?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know...'' the weak voice quivered, `` the idea... is not a pleasant one.'' 
 
 Jeremy remained idle in his bed while the presence still drifted just outside his room. A grave, uncomfortable silence followed the weak voice, only reminding the both of them what was to happen next. `` There's a chair in here.'' 
 
 `` Pardon...'' 
 
 `` You said you were tired, right? There is a chair beside the bed if you really are as tired as you say. Please, do come in.'' 
 
 `` I would rather not.'' 
 
 `` Me too.'' 
 
 `` Then please, a few moments more.'' 
 
 `` But are n't you tired?'' 
 
 The voice answered reluctantly, ``... Yes, I am.'' 
 
 `` So am I... please, come in. I could use the company...'' 
 
 The doctors recorded Jeremy's death at 8:27:04 on April 7th, 2140.
