[ WP ] Each morning , every human on Earth must pray their Reasons for not dying that day to the God of Death . If the Reasons are sufficient , that person will go on living , potentially forever . However , you are the longest living human by far , and people now hunt you in order to hear your Reasons .

“ What are you going to do, kill me? ” 
 
 A tired young man cresting the hill paused for a moment, smiling at my words. 
 “ I ’ ve been following you for four-and-a half months; I had time to contemplate the problem, ” began the young man, leaning on a spear that appeared in good condition despite its apparent recent service as a walking stick. “ If Death ( Blessed be His Name ) rejects you from his presence, I can hardly force you to share your Reasons. ” 
 
 I smiled. They usually had time to think. It was one of the reasons I kept moving, otherwise the real idiots caught up and, well... tried to kill an invulnerable man so he would teach them the secret to immortality. Little shits. 
 
 Still, this one was, at least, vaguely amusing. “ It ’ s a problem really. If I tell you, if I tell anyone, ” I explained, “ they might share the secret, then everyone might start using it. Of course, I don ’ t know if that would even matter; if He ’ d thank me for saving Him time in his appointed tasks, or if He ’ d be pissed I ruined his little game. And even then, don ’ t know if Death gets bored, but really, why should I take the risk for you people? ” 
 
 The young man looked taken aback. “ I didn ’ t know what to you ’ d be like, ” he said conversationally. “ I didn ’ t really expect you to be an arrogant bastard though. Isn ’ t immortality supposed to give you serenity and enlightenment or something? ” 
 
 “ Bah, ” I responded. “ Maybe with some gods it does. Death ’ s a stingy prick, apparently. ” 
 
 Blinking, the young man—a soldier perhaps? —loped forward. “ I... didn ’ t expect you to be so... ” he fumbled for words. 
 “ Dickish? ” I offered. He seemed to agree. “ Yeah, it turns out there ’ s no need for manners when I literally can ’ t die. ” 
 
 “ I considered torture, you know, ” he ventured. 
 
 “ The smarter ones get around to it eventually, ” I agreed. “ It ’ s been tried before. I ’ ve been whipped, beaten, hanged, stabbed, even killed once I think. I ’ m a little fuzzy about a few days in there. Some idiots got creative with some spikes and a tree. ” 
 
 The young man shuffled closer, his eyes catching—only for a moment, to his credit—on my scars. I don ’ t blame him—my body was littered with wounds. From my hands to my toes. 
 
 “ A few times I even broke. I told them my Reason. ” I shrugged. “ It hasn ’ t ever seemed to help anyone. ” 
 
 “ So... ” he paused, a rueful grin blooming across his face, “ you going to tell Me? ” 
 
 I turned and began walking away, reveling as disappointment eroded his good cheer. “ I used to make up the same desperate reasons you all do every morning. But one day I woke up and decided That Bastard isn ’ t worth it. And that day I decided if he wants me today, then screw it. And every day since then I ’ ve woken and told that Divine Dick one thing:... ” 
 
 The young man seemed to pause, hopeful, even as I walked away. And, realizing that he was a screwball anyway, I turned and told him, 
 
 “ I Am. ” 

