When scientists perfected life extension, humanity embraced the new age of immortality as though it was our final rite of passage to become an ageless species. Humanity didn’t shy away from the irreversible surgical treatments. We did it all: gene editing, nanotechnology, blood transfusions, and artificial replacement organs.

We claimed, “No one shall ever die again. Death holds no dominion over us.”

All true, except on the rare occasion when immortalizing struck some individuals with a terminal genetic illness.

Yet, a much deeper problem manifested itself within the intrinsic psychosocial nature of immortal beings: a growing number of people became severely depressed.

They requested termination because they grew tiresome of existence; It was too much to bear. Life was becoming predictable, and people were too afraid to make choices. Immortalizing ourselves gave us a near-perfect recall. Each waking moment, we vividly recalled every detail of our lives no matter how intolerable they were; our minds constantly replayed losing a loved one, being the cause of a tragedy, failures to succeed, or being responsible for someone else's misfortune.

Recollection triggers were unavoidable. After all, triggers are cyclical: beginning and ending again. Despite colonizing the solar system, our day-to-day lives were fairly mundane.

Our memories began taking on a life of their own. As such, scientists tried to remove negative memories but found that it made matters worse. A single memory relies on a multitude of others, which required more wipes that caused retrograde amnesia. Not to mention, the gaps created awkward social encounters causing many of us to reexperience our past emotions for eternity. However, not everyone coped with the constant bombardment of their recollections.

A new trend emerged whereby individuals played executioner to control their own lifespan. Suicide rates rose to epidemic proportions, surpassing the sum total of all deaths centuries before the invention of life extension. As a result, our lawmakers made it illegal to commit suicide.

You might ask, ‘What difference would it make if they're all dead?’

It made no difference to the dead, but the lawmakers responded to this by punishing loved ones. The closer they were to the offender, the more likely they’d suffer. Anyone aiding an individual’s suicide faced punishment.”

In time, the suicide rates nearly vanished. Despite the risk, certain individuals strived to end their existence.

That’s where I, Dr. Matchmaker, came into play. In an undisclosed location, I developed a technological loophole for termination without any trace of responsibility. My patients were sent to me while they were put to sleep. They awoke for our first and only meeting.

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I still vividly recall the first session centuries ago.

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My assistant spoke over the intercom, “She's ready.”

“Please send her in,” I replied.

A few minutes later, I heard a gentle knock on the door. Assuming it was the patient, I stood up from my desk and said, “Come in. The door is open.”

The masked woman was guided by my assistant to the chair across from my desk. I waited until the patient took a seat before motioning for my assistant to leave.

I sat back down.

“Good day, Doctor. I’ve come here to terminate my life.” She began to unmask.

I covered my eyes before shouting, “Stop! I’ll allow you to reveal yourself, but for now, you must remain anonymous. I mustn’t know who you are until you become my patient.”

“I’m confused. They told me you terminate people without a trace.”

“That’s correct, but you must swear that you’ll uphold your end of the deal. By removing your mask, you'll be making that commitment.”

“Can you tell me what the procedure entails? Will the procedure hurt?”

“No. And yes, it might be excruciating, but after a while, you’ll no longer exist. And that’s what matters, doesn’t it? It’s not like you’ll remember what happened. You must decide for yourself how important it is for you to die. I’m not a counselor.”

“That’s true!” Her voice cracked. “I can’t stand this grief. It’s more painful than any physical suffering I’ve ever endured. My life is a non-stop nightmare; I keep remembering him. Every time I see someone’s child, I relive that horrible accident—”

“Say no more and just decide,” I interrupted.

The anonymous person stood silent for a moment and then raised her hand. “I swear to go through with this.”

She unmasked herself.

“Come with me.” I gestured for her to follow.

We entered my lab, where the body of my other patient lay unconscious on a slab.

“This is Robert Stock. He’s dying of a rare genetic sickness caused by the same technology trying to make him immortal. It's incurable. His body will painfully and slowly decay inside and out.

“He’s spent his entire life imitating his father, a successful space-mining entrepreneur, but he now desires to be more like his mother. Around your age, his mother divorced his father. She became a writer and raised her children while living in the peaceful countryside.”

“That’s incredible! That describes my life exactly! Except I had three children, and my son died in a tragic accident. It was all my fault.” Her voice cracked as she wept.

“Quite the coincidence, right? When our system finds a match, both subjects are brought to me. Mr. Stock worked as an angel investor, lived alone, and did quite well for himself. But he said the hustle and bustle and loneliness made him wish for another life. All of his money will get transferred to you once he takes over.”

“Takes over?” She looked puzzled.

“Yes. You swore to the agreement. Your consciousness will be swapped. You’ll be terminated as you requested, but in his body, and he’ll take over your life.”

“I-I don’t … know.” She stumbled away from him.

“It’s too late to change your mind! If you break the agreement, you and your loved ones will suffer a fate worse than his. We’ll report your identity to the authorities. Now, step into the chamber so we can proceed.”