[ WP ] You ca n't die until your name is spoken for the last time .

I never should have spoken to the damn gypsy. 
 
 That ’ s really where the problems started. That ’ s the reason for why I ’ m stuck here now, naked and wandering somewhere between the Andromeda Galaxy and the Triangulum Galaxy. At least I didn ’ t wander into a star or a black hole yet, so I can enjoy the visuals. I ’ m sure it ’ s only a matter of time, though. 
 
 Time. Time. I have all of that to spare. I ’ m so old at this point I don ’ t think most calculators could display my age ( as if there is anything that can be called a calculator anymore ). I ’ m fairly certain that my perception of time has sped up, too, but it's hard to tell in the inky blackness that surrounds me. 
 
 Everyone thinks that immortality is so great. “ You get to live forever! Who wouldn ’ t want that? ” I remember my wife saying that, however many billions of years ago. I thought I was smarter than her. “ Immortality would get boring pretty quick, ” I said. “ You ’ d only want to live for as long as there were people around to talk about you. ” 
 
 And so you can imagine I thought I was the most brilliant man alive when I rescued that man from a mugger on the street. And it wasn ’ t even with good intentions. That I realize now. I thought I ’ d end up in the papers; thought I ’ d at least be a minor celebrity for a bit. People would think me so heroic. Damn young fool I was! 
 
 Oh yes, I said that I thought I was brilliant. As it turns out, the hobo claimed himself to be some sort of “ gypsy warlock ” or something. Said that he could use magic, and could make any dream I wanted to come true. And this is where we come to the immortality bit, and my supposed “ brilliance. ” I didn ’ t want immortality. I just wanted to be famous for as long as possible. And that ’ s where my wish came from. “ I wish that I couldn ’ t die until my name was spoken for the last time. ” That ’ s how I phrased it, thinking that it would be flawless. I thought it was logical; I ’ d be around for as long as anyone cared. And then when I was finally a nobody again I could pass. 
 
 Well, I definitely can ’ t pass. That much he had delivered on. But the specifics, it seemed, were ignored. I haven ’ t met another soul for billions and billions and billions of years. I can ’ t possibly know how long it ’ s been. And yet here I am, floating along endlessly, waiting for the end of the universe to finally come. Whenever that will be. But then, I don ’ t even know if that will finally end this misery. 
 
 It was pleasant enough at first. I, of course, did become a sensation. Quite easily the most famous person in history. Because I couldn ’ t die. It wouldn ’ t happen. Even if I sustained an injury, somehow it ’ d heal up. I was like goddamn Deadpool. I ’ d like to say that I did good things with this power, but that would be a lie. I just rolled in money and fame. But after a few thousand years I got… bored. I didn ’ t have any meaning beyond just being. People even stopped caring about me, and my wife had died millennia ago. I realized how much I wanted death. But I couldn ’ t have it. However much I was no longer in the public eye people still remembered me occasionally. I was someone ’ s school report, or mentioned every few months on that website that took over half the Internet… Reading It or something. I don ’ t even remember. And then thousands of years became millions. People had been changing. Humanity wasn ’ t humanity anymore. They were something different. But I was the same. And with that I became famous again, an oddity, and after repeating over the eons I had no idea how long it would take before I ’ d finally, truly, become forgotten. 
 
 I thought I ’ d finally see my death when the Sun turned red and the seas cooked and the Earth became a barren rock. But I was still alive. I was the only thing still alive when the Sun exploded. I was still alive as I was hurtled into space amidst the debris of my home planet. And I was still alive as I flew through space, even now. 
 
 Why? 
 
 How? 
 
 It shouldn ’ t have been this way. I shouldn ’ t be alive anymore. There ’ s no one left! Everyone is dead. No one knows my name anymore. Billions and billions of years and I have never even met an extraterrestrial. Could there be some other species that picked up our radio signals and screams my name to some alien moon every night as a cruel joke? No one else knows my name! No one else knows who I am! No one else… 
 
 No one else… 
 
 No one *else. * 
 
 I need to find a planet with an atmosphere.
