Brother Umberto had been appointed to organize the birthday party.

At 758 years old, Umberto was the youngest of his brothers and sisters at the monastery of the Ever Shining Light. As such, he was often tasked with more mundane endeavors.

He didn’t mind, though. He knew every task assigned to him, no matter how little, was another crucial step in his centuries-old education. On top of that, this birthday was an anniversary of great numerological significance.

Elder Most Venerable Brother Pericles, was turning something something to the power of 100 years old. Brother Pericles was the most senior of the monks living in the ancient monastery.

His actual age had grown into a mystery and the subject of dozens of research tomes.

Pericles was born so long ago that hundreds of calendar systems had come and gone. Thousand-year-old intergalactic empires with their languages and numerical notations had risen and fallen during Brother Pericles's life.

The current formula describing his age was so long and complex that no one was sure what the final amount was. Nevertheless, one most recent part of the age formula seemed to return the number 100 this year. This was unlikely to mean Brother Pericles was turning 100.000 or 100 million years old. But still, somewhere in the formula, a lovely square 100 appeared, and it was as good as any other special anniversary for all they knew.

All the brothers and sisters had been at work for months crafting little miracles of rejuvenation specially tailored to Brother Pericles.

Sister Rose had bio-printed some of her signature life-extending candles. Their aroma was so specifically tailored that only Brother Pericles’s lungs’ would be affected by an increase in breathing capacity that would last decades.

Brother Cyrus had put together a book of fairy tales that were read to children approximately a dozen millennia around the birth of Brother Pericles. The stories were from such ancient times that, effectively, they were the legends that had been told to the long-gone children that had become today's legends.

The list went on and on, soap, incense, sandals, a cane, a nightgown and so on and so on.

When the day of the birthday had finally arrived a dozen long tables had to be taken out and placed next to each other so that all the gifts would fit.

Brother Pericles was most thankful and insisted on trying all the gifts one by one right on the spot.

The gift-giving and thanksgiving ceremony lasted for almost one hour.

Finally, Brother Pericles stood up and clinked his new metal cane against a chalice to attract the guests' attention. “Brothers and sisters, I’m most thankful for your presence today and for the great effort you have undergone to produce such astounding offerings of…” paused Brother Pericles to take a breath. “Such astounding off-off-offerings of health,” tried the man, having troubled breathing.

“Let him sit and drink a glass of water,” advised Brother Umberto, walking through the crowd towards the eldest monk.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Brother Pericles had fallen on his knees and was trying to loosen the collar of his tunic. “Can’t… breathe…” were his last words before turning slightly blue and falling face-up to the floor with suspicious bubbles drooling from his mouth.

Silence fell upon the crowd.

Young Brother Umberto stepped forward and placed his fingers on the old man's throat and wrist but did not hear a pulse. He extracted a monitoring device from his tunic and deployed diagnostic nanobots to the still body. “Brother Pericles is dead. The cause of death appears to be poison,” said Umberto, reading the results.

The body was transported to the graveyard that happened to be just a few meters away from the birthday location.

A grave had been dug by the droids commanded by Brother Echo, the AI of the monastery.

The monks had gathered around the grave to pay their respects. Everyone was most amused by how a birthday had turned quickly to resemble a funeral.

“Brothers and sisters, all the data I’ve collected seem to confirm the early diagnosis made by Brother Umberto. Brother Pericles was indeed poisoned.’ confirmed the AI. “Before we move forward with the investigations, does anyone have something to say?”.

There was a moment of hesitation when the monks looked at each other, unsure if they should speak first.

“I did it!” said finally Sister Rose with all eyes on her.

“Do you mean that you are the one who poisoned him,” asked Echo.

“Yes, I am. I’ve poisoned the candles I gifted him. He insisted on smelling their fragrance straight away. ” confirmed the sister.

“I did it too!” rushed the voice of Brother Cyrus. “I’ve poisoned the pages of the book of fairytales I gifted him. I knew Brother Pericles always licked his fingers while scrolling from page to page,” explained the second murderer.

“I did it too,” said another monk.

“Me too,” yelled another from behind.

“Okay, okay, it would be simpler if we do like this. Everyone that has poisoned Brother Pericles today, please raise your hand,” said Echo.

One at a time, all the hands went up.

“This is just unprecedented. I’m not sure how to proceed,” commented Echo.

“I know how,” said a voice from behind.

Everyone turned around in unison.

Brother Pericles was emerging from his own grave, clawing his way through the freshly turned earth with determination.

A pair of monks rushed to his aid, extending their hands to help him clamber out of the earthen pit. Once he stood firmly on the ground, they briskly brushed off the clinging dirt from his tunic, their motions a mix of reverence and curiosity.

“I’m blessed today with the miracle of resuscitation. It’s impressive to be reminded how we genetically engineered the bacteria in this dirt to bring one back to life in such a short time,” said Pericles. “And also, thank you all for giving me a refresher on one of life's most important lessons…” paused the monk for suspense. “Life can become meaningless without remembering what could be lost. Eternal life can become taken for granted without a once-in-a-while rehearsal in death”.

All the monks silently smiled and nodded in agreement. Everyone was so very pleased; their surprise gift had worked and was much appreciated.

The birthday party went on. Everyone was most eager to explain how they had achieved their part in the poisoning. After all, murder was an old tradition that was rarely executed with success. All monks had been murdered several times over the years, and they were now quick in spotting poisoned objects and booby traps.

Finally, the cake arrived. It was covered in candles shaped in various numbers, runes, and glyphs.

Brother Pericles blew the candles and secretly wished for another million of these years.

Echo maneuvered the robots to cut the cake and distribute the slices around.

Everyone was having some, and Sister Rose was already going through her second slice. She asked, “Who made this?”.

“I did it,” answered young Brother Umberto.

“It’s so good! You must give me the recipe,” commented Sister Rose.

“But of course. It’s a chocolate cake plus some new untraceable variations of arsenic, cyanide, and risin,” finished Brother Umberto with a grin on his face.

“Oh, oh, oh, you are joking, right? I didn’t see this double-cross coming a mile away!” said Sister Rose, falling to her knees and smiling.

The other monks were also falling dead to the ground.

“And this is what I call a most successful party. Well done, Brother Umberto,” said the AI while the robots started dragging the bodies to their resuscitation-capable graves.

“Thank you, Echo. I can’t take all the merit, though. It was Brother Pericles who insisted on poisoning the cake as a special thanks to the guests”.