The Vessel

There are two components to Life. The Self, and the Vessel. The Vessel carries the Self. Without it, the Self cannot survive, and Life ends.

But, being made of flesh and bone, the Vessel is fallible.

.

The diagnosis comes as a surprise. It's very unusual for a man like me. Illnesses like this mostly present in other parts of the world. Places I wouldn't step foot in. Sweltering wastelands ravaged by wars I have no stake in. Even the shadows cast by faraway disasters, I can afford to take precautions against on the few occasions I leave my home. The doctor agrees it's unfortunate indeed.

I stands in front of a mirror, examining myself. On the outside, I look healthy, strong, and virile. Then I imagine looking underneath the skin and finding the dark, rotting maws of cancer slowly eating away at me. There's no cure for it yet, but in ten years, or a hundred, there will be. It's only a matter of preserving the Vessel until then.

The price is steep, but I can pay it.

.

The sun beats down on the empty streets as I exit the car. The building I've arrived at stands out as both wider and taller than any surrounding buildings.

The headquarters for Vessel Incorporated are shaped like a pyramid, but made out of steel instead of stone. It reminds the viewer of ancient civilisations, once that lasted a blink of an eye compared to the longevity Vessel Inc promises their customers. It's the most cutting-edge company on the market, dealing in a commodity that becomes scarcer every year: Survival.

After completing a retinal scan, the doors slide open. Inside, I'm greeted by a disembodied voice from the loudspeaker, designed to sound as human as a non-human can. I'm directed through labyrinthine hallways. Every surface is perfectly white like the melting polar caps. Even the elevator that opens for me is white. I don't see any other humans, only a couple of faceless androids that nod politely as they pass me.

I don't have to press one of the dozens of buttons in the elevator; I'm here on appointment and the elevator knows where I'm going. The building is tall, and while the elevator makes its ascent, I have time to listen to the soothing, mechanical words flowing out of the loudspeaker.

~Vessel Incorporated is your second chance at Life. We here at Vessel Inc have everything you need to survive through disease, aging, nuclear war and more. Vessel Inc – for when you're too good for death.~

At the very top of the pyramid, the elevator doors open to a large, white room, with steel drawers against each wall. If I were to open them, I would see people who are not dead or alive. The drawers are a kind of liminal space, freezing patients in time. And one of those drawers is reserved for me.

I'm greeted by an android, who welcomes me in a monotone voice, explaining the procedure.

I wonder, fleetingly, if the android understands the words coming out of its mouth. Androids have no true concept of Life, because they only have an empty Vessel with no Self inside. But the Vessel is practically indestructable, and doesn't need to worry about disease and aging. I hold a sort of respectful envy for them, even if most humans look down on them.

The android leads me to another room, a smaller one, filled with vats of liquid emitting unpleasant odors. They're just big enough to fit me. It's cold here, and I can't help but shiver, a problem the android doesn't share. I'm led to a chair, similar to the type used by dentists, complete with a bright white light overhead. There's a small table next to it, with a needle and a vial of clear liquid. It's time.

I lean back in my seat, but follow the movements of the android out of the corner of my eye. It works quickly as it prepares the neccessary dosage that won't kill the Vessel, only suspend it in time temporarily, keeping my Self safe from the illness that will otherwise destroy me.

The needle is thin, and so the puncture doesn't hurt. The only thing I feel is the freezing cold rapidly spreading through my body.

.

I'm no longer cold. I'm not laying on a chair in a laboratory. I'm standing somewhere and it's night.

As my eyes adjust to the dark, I can see I'm in a desert, surrounded by dunes. There's a pyramid in the distance. Next to me stands a frightening, jackal-headed man.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"Anubis," the jackal-man answers gruffly.

Before anything else can be said, Anubis begins walking, beckoning me to follow. I don't know what to do, and I don't feel quite in control, so I obey.

We walk through the desert, and I almost stumble from the unfamiliar sensation of soft sand beneath my feet. The sky is littered in stars, the kind you only see in old photographs, and I think this can't be real, which is a comforting thought in a way.

When we arrive at the pyramid, I can see its made of stone, and looks nothing like the modern, sterile building I was just in. We walk through a gaping doorway, the building swallowing us in darkness. Then, with a wave of his hand, Anubis lights the torches lining the path ahead.

The dancing lights create odd shadows in the long hallway. We walk until we arrive in a big, dimly lit hall. In the center of the room stands a large, golden scale, almost taller than me. Anubis walks up to it, carefully pulling a feather out of, seemingly, thin air, placing it in one of the cups. It doesn't move.

The golden-brown jackal eyes turn to me.

"It is time for you to take part in the trial of the scale."

I feel uneasy.

"What if I refuse?"

The jackal maw flashes a predatory grin.

"You can't refuse. Nobody can refuse Anubis."

"What does the trial entail?" I ask next, still not convinced.

"Bring forth the heart!" Anubis declares, his booming voice echoing in the hall. I can feel it reverberate in my spine.

Anubis hands me a dagger. It's beautiful, a collector's item. Not one that I know how to wield. But I've had time to adjust, get my footing. If all Anubis wants is my heart, he can have it. My vessel will be taken care of, and one day I won't even need my heart.

Confidently, I bring the knife to my chest, plunging it inward. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt. I only feel the heat of the dripping blood running down my torso, splattering on the floor.

I reach in, pulling out the wet, sticky heart. Then, I hold it up in my hands, still beating.

Anubis takes it and places it in the other cup.

As soon as the heart leaves Anubis' fingertips, the cup falls from the weight of it, snapping the golden chain and clattering on the floor, where the heart flaps around like a dead fish.

Anubis smiles again, a feral, unfriendly smile.

"You failed. You didn't pass the trial."

"What now?" I ask, nervous. I've lost my confidence again, and quiver in front of the jackal-headed man.

"It's simple. You don't get to live."

First I'm stunned into silence, then my anger flares up.

"I paid for this, I paid fucking everything for this!" My heart is still on the floor, but I can feel it in my chest too, beating with rage and desperation. "You don't get to tell me I'm not going to live."

Anubis scoffs.

"You fight nail and tooth to survive. To stay young and healthy for an eternity. But why," the jackal asks, "would you seek to preserve the Vessel, when the Self that it holds has died long ago?"

Anubis kicks the heart, and it makes a squelching sound as it slides across the floor and disappears into darkness.

"It's worthless," he continues. "You were rotting long before the sickness. You simply didn't notice because it was the kind of rot that can be dressed up in designer suits and watches. But it spread everytime you spilled wine when others died of thirst and let meat rot when others starved."

I turn and begin to walk away, but halt when I see a pair of gleaming eyes in the doorway.

Anubis cackles and the ground trembles as the beast emerges with heavy steps. In torchlight I can see that the yellow eyes are set into the head of an alligator, baring its sharp teeth. It walks on furry, golden paws, and fat, grey hindquarters.

The beast leaps at me, snapping its jaws.

This time it hurts.