As in, these Zombies don’t know where they are. But our first-class zombies become free range for a period of their discretion set no longer than thirty days for administration purposes – we need the space. They wander in the pit with other Zombies around them, and I swear I’ve witnessed not only a sense of satisfaction in their facial expressions, but a sense of belonging. They are home for the first time in their lives. I see it. It’s a genuine shift, because there’s still someone in there, the same person that decided to take this permanent vacation to Zombie land and I respect every one of them more than any human I’ve ever met in my life. Just like when I laid eyes on my sister, it is clear to me that there is something going on in their heads. As far as I know the lab coats haven’t been able to prove anything and they simply ignore me anyway, but I don’t need proof. I know what I can see.
The sweetest perk by far is that the first-class travellers can partake in whatever human activity, within reason, they desire within our complex before entering the Turning Room. You can tell a lot about what kind of life a client has lived by what they choose as their last act. Interestingly, only one of my clients ever chose to get laid as his going away present and he was also the most relaxed I’ve ever seen anyone as the needle went in.
Some have asked if they can kill someone before they go, so we let them dispose of a Zombie in our pen that is reaching the end of their agreement. But I’ve found that, most of the time, clients are too disillusioned with living to give a shit what they will do as their last act as a human being. They want to get it over with, which I understand. They’ve probably been thinking about it each moment from first consultation to last. They are just happy when it’s finally done. I respect those people the most. Those are the ones I was brought here to support.
We also offer our first-class customers the post-Z package. We keep a video record of the subjects from each consultation, filming short clips so that they can say their goodbyes on their own terms. We also provide a record of life for the subject, meaning their most personal achievements, loves, desires, pieces of them, are left in stasis. Those are then sent anonymously to the address of the subject’s choice. That’s much better than a jar of fucking ashes. To be frank, though, subjects involving their families in any way is such a rare occurrence that it’s not something we’ve dealt with too often; this is a facility for those that have suffered great loss or had nothing to lose to begin with. We of course encourage all clients to think their situation through in great detail but like standing on a ledge on a building, you are either going to jump or you aren’t.
You know, sometimes I think back to my sister, swaying around in the garden. My dad, he broke rank from the house, sprinted down the driveway towards her and in the absence of any proper weaponry bludgeoned her skull with a meat hammer in eight vicious thwacks. I stared through the blinds, fascinated, before he ran back inside in a wave of tears, with pieces of her brain caught in his hair and clothing. She always was the favourite. I wonder what kind of grief my passing would have induced. Fuck them. As far as I’m concerned my parents only exist when I mention their name in a sentence so their opinion hasn’t played any part in my own personal consultation. There’s a vial of blood in our facility that has my name written on the side. My date is marked in the calendar. I know exactly when I’m checking out of here.
I genuinely believe that the more normality returns, the more disillusioned people will become. At least the bleakness of a potential apocalypse means you could live on the never-never, like my LTTs; let’s not pay our electricity bills, our mortgage, save for the future, because the future might be completely on fire and overrun by Zombies, and that money, well, it could be spent buying something now. We were generally happier when they thought there was no future.
It’s why I’m going to do it. This fucking sucks. It really does. I’m one of the lucky ones who has could enjoy at least a small sliver of life on Earth. There’s millions of others wondering why they bother.
Don’t bother. Come here. I’ll look after you.