[ WP ] You live on a world full of immortal beings . For the first time in the history of the world 's existence , somebody has died .

It was too quiet. Abigail's body, slumped in her chair, bright red blood pooled at her feet, her eyes surprised and quizzical and utterly empty. It was all too quiet. 
 
 `` I've done it,'' Marcus whispered. He gripped the spear tightly in his fist, blood dripping from the glowing blade. `` She's not coming back. I've done it.'' His green eyes darted to me, then back to Abigail. `` Do n't you understand, Samuel? We're free now.'' His voice was hushed, thready. He could n't take his gaze off her. 
 
 I was stunned. What Marcus had done was impossible. No one had died, or been born, for thousands of years. The Mitosis nanobots that floated in the air, in the water, and in my blood and body had kept me alive, awake, possessed of a tireless body and a perfect mind, for over two millennia. The ragged remains of humanity had long ago locked themselves into living tombs, doomed to avoid the mistakes of the past by never forgetting them. We had weathered the nuclear winter, waited through centuries of dust until the Earth bloomed again, we few remaining thousands, without choice. Babies were a thing of the past - the bots made us sterile. I had heard the rumors of mad and desperate souls searching for a means of fooling the bots, of starting the cycle of life and death again, but had thought it impossible. 
 
 Falling from mountain cliffs, leaping into volcanoes, even stepping into fusion chambers - nothing worked. The bots' collective processing power stored every human consciousness in the Eternity Circuits; the Circuits, along with the bots' servers and manufactorums, were safely hidden in stealth satellites that merged perfectly with the thick cloud of junk and debris surrounding Earth. Destroy your body or stop your heart or brain and the bots would faithfully spin up a new one, then upload you. Missions to destroy the satellites failed - the secrets to space camouflage were long lost and the satellites were undetectable. We'd stopped hunting centuries ago. 
 
 But Marcus said he had found a way. Abigail had volunteered, and I had agreed to stand as witness. He had arrived at Abigail's home with his strange spear - a shaft of polished redwood, a blade of black metal inlaid with circuitry - and told Abigail to sit down. Then he had stabbed her chest, and she had died. 
 
 `` The bots wo n't remake her, Samuel.'' He whispered, gazing raptly at Abigail's body. `` EMP burst hits every bot in a 10-foot radius, outside their detection field. By the time they replicate back in, she's cooled off, they'll treat her like they treated the victims of the 2067 flu. Watch.'' 
 
 Marcus was right. The bots had been first been designed to stave off pandemics. The thin, nazal humming of bot movement rose, and Abigail's body began to rapidly decompose. Soon all that was left were bones and jewelry. 
 
 I tore my eyes away from Abigail - from her bones - and looked at Marcus. `` Bots take an hour to penetrate us.'' I could hardly hear my own voice. Marcus's eyes locked onto mine, and he smiled. `` Yes. We're still free. The spear takes a little while to recharge, but right now...'' he stared at the black blade, then looked back to me. `` Right now, the old-fashioned way will still work.'' 
 
 His smile grew as he reversed the spear, resting the tip against his throat. `` Me first.''
