Alano
3:42 a.m.
Saving Paz makes me feel as if I’ve broken a curse that’s been plaguing me, one where I send the grim reaper to people’s doors.
Maybe that was inevitable as long as I was devoting my life to Death-Cast.
The entire time we’re driving to Echo Park, I’m still in disbelief that Paz is alive. He’s sitting shotgun, mostly staring
out the window. I don’t force him to speak. I think he’s still processing that he’s alive too.
I park the car a couple blocks away from a homeless encampment. Death-Cast has received a lot of criticism over the years
for not being accessible to the unhoused community, but that will be corrected after Project Meucci is unveiled. I take note
of this encampment to make sure it’s on the radar of our director of product management before remembering that my position
at Death-Cast is unclear. I haven’t formally resigned yet, but my father might outright fire me once he discovers that I deactivated
my account. That’s a problem for later; I’m being present with Paz.
We walk down to a trail that’s empty except for one jogger. The lake is dark and beautiful under the moonlight and there are swan boat rentals gently rocking by the dock, but that’s not why we’re here.
“Do you know about Edge-of-the-Deck?” Paz asks.
It’s nice to hear his voice again, though it does make me sad that it’s because he’s talking about that platform for suicide
survivors who tried proving Death-Cast wrong. “I’m familiar. Are you on it?”
“I’ve never left comments or anything like that, but I was studying every survivor’s failed suicide plan to build my own.
I learned from everyone’s X factors that prevented them from suicide, but there’s no way I could’ve predicted that the Death-Cast
heir would appear out of nowhere like some guardian angel or superhero to save me. I doubt anyone would believe me if I shared
that story on Edge-of-the-Deck, but I don’t care. I know the truth and”—Paz keeps walking with his head hanging low, like
he’s unable to meet my eyes—“and the truth is that your parents are right. You really are a miracle, .”
After rocky moments with my best friends, it’s beyond nice to have a stranger show me such profound appreciation. No, not
a stranger. My new friend. “That means a lot,” I say as we stop by the lake. “I needed to hear that.”
Paz digs into his backpack and pulls out his gun. I’m not nervous. I trust him to do what we came here for. He empties the
gun and the three bullets roll around in his hand.
“I’m sorry I pointed the gun at you,” Paz says.
“Thanks for not shooting it,” I say.
“Thanks for saving my life.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around sooner.”
“You’re here now.”
“I’m here now.”
I take the bullets and throw them into the lake like I’m skipping stones.
Paz is left with nothing but the gun. “It’s not that scary now that it’s empty.”
“Please don’t keep it as some twisted souvenir.”
“Definitely not. I’m using that obituary as the compass for the life I want. That means no guns in my house ever again. I
don’t want my future kids repeating history, or having easy access to a gun the next time things suck.”
Paz throws the gun into the lake.
I’m proud of how hard Paz has just made things for the grim reaper.
“How do you feel?” I ask as we walk back toward the car.
“Safe from myself. How are you feeling?”
“Proud of you.”
“No, I mean about not knowing your fate.”
It’s well after 3:00 a.m., which means that while we know Paz isn’t dying today, there is still no indication whether I will. The adrenaline of tonight’s intensity is certainly fading now that we’ve gotten rid of the gun and I’m able to look more inward. “It’s an adjustment after growing up with that security blanket Death-Cast provides. I have to keep reminding myself that something bad could happen at any moment. I also don’t want to be ruled by that fear any more than I wanted to be ruled by Death-Cast, so I’m focusing on living my life instead.”
“You make that sound so freeing. Maybe I should quit Death-Cast too,” Paz says.
That thought concerns me. Paz is a frequent visitor on Edge-of-the-Deck who has planned on killing himself three times already
without a Death-Cast alert. “It’s ultimately your life, but I’d like you to really give it some thought. You’re feeling safe
from yourself tonight because you know you can’t kill yourself. I worry about you becoming a greater threat without Death-Cast
holding you back.”
Paz nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sounds bummed.
“I hope one day you feel healthy enough to quit Death-Cast if that’s what you still want.”
“And I hope quitting Death-Cast is everything you want it to be.”
I do too. Truly.