[ WP ] A few decades into the future , humans can donate their body to become food for other humans after they 've expired .

I looked over at him. His eyes were low, and I knew what it meant. He wanted to talk about it. Again. I shuffled my feet around slightly, trying not to let him hear that I was altogether not up for another discussion. The burden of the impending parting was heavy on my heart in a strange way. I knew soon, too soon, I would n't be opening my eyes to his face any longer. I wanted to ask him every question on my mind, so that I could have every answer. I was n't ready for the day when I could ask him anything, and he would answer. The day when talking to him meant talking to a wall. The day that in its own way, a little piece of the universe would close off to me forever, and I would be left to formulate replies with the shards of memories of his voice. 
 
 I looked over. I was too tired. I guess that's how everyone feels, towards the end. Too tired to do anything but fool yourself into believing that there is n't an end at all. 
 
 I knew that the crops were low of late. I knew the children had been hungry. The news was n't wasting a day on it. Even now, in the cold clinical discomfort of the hospital room, the television heaped its uncaring vision on us, bathing the room in its sickly color. It made him look even paler, his eyes even lower, sunken in more than I knew was the truth. 
 
 I knew what he wanted without even talking. I always had. But I opened my mouth, and I forced the words out, pouring salt into the void. 
 
 `` I know it's what you want. I know it would help people. But I do n't think I can stand it.'' 
 
 My eyes watered. It had become normal, expected even. But still I felt strange. Growing up, I was always far left. Liberal, free and blue. I never thought there would be a cause for the greater good that I could n't support. Then, slowly but surely, it crept in. It encroached on us like a frog in a pot of boiling water. The political incumbents talked about it for election debates. Food banks started to make commercials. Light and airy, with pleasant pictures. The kind of commercials that show smiling nuclear couples holding hands and a pleasant noise. 
 
 I felt sick. I knew they processed it. I knew they packaged it up to be sterile and sheer and inhuman. But I was a vegetarian because I knew that it was the same with animals. The pork on our plates was a far cry from the rust blood stained floors of the slaughter house or the factory. 
 
 `` This is n't that'', he said. 
 
 `` They treat you with some dignity. You're a human being.'' 
 
 I turned to look back at him. His eyes were hollow. He was watching the television, the flickering light of his face warping to a new expression with every passing shadow. The room was quiet now. He was making a difference. It was just a body. It was just a vessel. His mind was here. His mind was separate. But I did n't have much longer. 
 
 I moved closer to him, sitting on the edge of that horrible hospital blanket, stiff and spiny. I reached out for his arm, wrapping my fingers around his wrist, finally grasping how tenuous even the material was now. I could grasp him and still he would leave me. His eyes shifted from the screen to meet mine. 
 
 `` We live on through our good deeds'', he said, a smile playing at his lips. 
 
 `` Yes,'' I said. `` Yes'', and I was sad for his body, but for the loss of him I was heartbroken.
