Date: CT2-5875/11/13

Serrah's Dusk destroyed me.

She wore a smile the whole time and, while I tried my best to follow her lead, a scowl was never far from infecting my features.

For most people, Dusks are a joyous occasion. I had thoroughly enjoyed attending them in the past, but this one in particular was a struggle for me.

I kept telling myself today wouldn't be her final Dusk, that she'd have so much fun in reminiscence and re-connection that she would postpone and schedule another. There was certainly precedent for such a thing.

It never really sunk in that this was it. Not until it was too late.

This was the third Dusk I'd been to all year, but it was utterly unlike the others. Serrah was my Mate, and I'd never been to a Mate's Dusk before.

Zachary held my paw for hours before, after and during. For all his excess and extremities, he knew when he should reel things in. He knew when I needed him. He was my Mate too, every bit as much as Serrah was, but that day she was my everything.

She was all I could think about.

I wish I could say I felt dread, or despair, or grief - at least then I would've been acknowledging reality - but instead I was in disbelief. I was bargaining with myself, arguing against all logic, at war in my mind.

I kept thinking: this isn't it, is it?

There were hundreds of guests, in fact I'm sure there were almost a thousand if you were to total up everyone who came and left throughout the day. It was not the most populous Dusk I had attended, but it was close. Serrah had touched a lot of people's hearts in her years; there were so many out there who cared for her. And then there were the plus-ones, like my Zach: the Mates, or other close ones, dragged along for the celebrations of the Dusk, or for an ultimate chance to meet the host, or simply for emotional support.

Zach knew Serrah, of course, but they were never really close. Zach had only been my Mate for a couple years and the chance had never truly presented itself for me to acquaint the two more directly. She would always find time for me, but Serrah was a busy woman.

That day it was no different: she was crowded constantly. A cavalcade of fresh friends and old acquaintances approached her in a seemingly unending tide of flesh and fur and scales and whatever else. She exchanged words and took her time with every single person. Some left before the end of the ceremony and most didn't arrive as it began. It's not common to stay for the entirety of a Dusk, the event usually lasting twelve or more hours, but Zach and I were there for the whole thing. He didn't need to be, but as her Mate it was expected of me, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

There was food and drink and music and dancing and games and as many other distractions as you could imagine, the same as most Dusks, but to me there was only Serrah.

I wanted to spend hours talking to her, as we had done in recent days, but she was the center of attention. For most of the Dusk I knew I had no chance to converse with her at all. I barely spoke a word to Zach either, despite him following me around the whole time and clutching my paw for half of it. I couldn't face him, my sole other Mate, it was too much. Instead, I sought out Paloma.

Paloma and I were Serrah's only remaining Mates. When I first met Serrah she had two more, but both of them had passed over the course of the last decade. It had affected Serrah more than she liked to admit, though she wore her pain plainly. If you knew her well you could read it on her face most days.

I stood with Paloma, the two of us sticking as close to Serrah as we could as she gradually swayed through the large venue, guided by the constantly crashing waves of guests.

Paloma was in a better mood than I, though she was not exactly all grins and laughter. She had been here before as I had not, at a Mate's Dusk.

Every time I stole a glimpse at Zachary he would squeeze my paw in solidarity and, every time he did, my heart would break. I couldn't help but imagine attending his Dusk, or him attending mine. I couldn't look at him for longer than a second at a time. I wouldn't have been able to fight off the tears.

Compared to Paloma, to Serrah, Zach and I were still young and inexperienced. We were only in our fifth decades while Paloma was approaching her twentieth. Serrah was just one-hundred-and-fifty-nine, below the average age of Dusking, though not by a huge margin. The average had been dropping steadily for millennia at this point; she would soon add to that trend.

Paloma was base-human. Her hair was a rich brown that shone bright with reflected light, her skin was dark and smooth and her eyes were a wild, vivid amber. You could just look at her and know that she loved living, that she'd go on for another century or two easily without tiring. It was clear to me why Serrah loved her. In another life I might have too, perhaps even later on in this one.

I tried to start a conversation but my words felt useless. I opened my muzzle, struggled, and simply shut it again.

She read me as though a transcript of my inner monologue were scrolling across her display. With a warm smile and a calming stare she spread her arms and took me into a tight embrace. She was a little taller than me, and generally larger, but being buried in her soft, pudgy form was soothing and personal in a way that struck me. I had to fight against my emotions once more, seemingly every show of kindness pushing me to the verge of a breakdown. I could have taken an emotion dampening drug and avoided the whole issue, but I wanted to feel it all that day, however painful it became.

When we parted she looked into my eyes for a long while, her lips pursed, wearing an uncharacteristically pensive expression.

“How are you feeling Eliot?" Her voice was warmth transmuted into sound.

I shook my head.

“Awful."

It was the only word that came to mind.

She nodded, understanding instantly.

“I've been in your place. I know how hard this is."

“Do you think she'll delay?" I asked.

She stared at me again and shook her head slowly.

“Eliot. Both of us know the answer to that."

I nodded. We didn't speak with one another again until the ceremony was over.

I knew. Of course I knew. Serrah never did something unless she was sure of it. There was never a chance this would be reconsidered or postponed, but right then, in that moment, I didn't care. I blocked out reason. I held out hope against hope.

Zach squeezed my paw.

I excused myself to the nearest washroom, feeling shame in my inability to stay composed.

When at last I was alone, I cried.

I told myself it would all be okay.

I was lying and I knew it. All it took to figure that out was one look at my reflection.

The me in the mirror was a wreck.

That Eliot was devastated, depressed, borderline unstable.

That Eliot had wet, matted fur around their eyes.

That Eliot couldn't keep their ears straight or their tail from whipping back and forth erratically.

That Eliot wasn't in control.

I couldn't be that person anymore.

As much as I wished to avoid it, I had to admit I'd failed. I instructed my system to inject a mood stabilizer.

A mild one.

I cleaned myself up.

I patted down my blazer and pants. I fiddled with the gold rings running up my left ear.

I looked at myself and wondered who I was, why I was there, why I felt the way I felt, and found no answers.

I could be anything I wanted. A basic human. Any kind of animal morph or something else entirely: something alien, even something totally of my own design.

Point being, I could look any way I wanted. I could do as I desired with my body. I chose to be that person in the mirror yet, when I looked, I didn't understand what I saw.

Was that really me?

The blue-tinted gray fur, the piercings, the wide green eyes, the streak of white dyed into my choppy, silvery head hair, my minimal curves, my average height, my androgyny in body, dress and voice. A prime expression of my nothingness. I was apathy incarnate. Genderless. Careless. Hopeless.

That was me, I guess. That was Eliot.

What was it that made me tick? What was it that kept me going?

Some days I felt I had at least some serviceable half-answers. That day I had none at all.

I noticed I was hyperventilating.

The mood stabilizer was too weak so I took a stronger one.

I realized I was beginning to dissociate. That scared me.

I took a step back, breathed in and out, and reminded myself that I was a real person, that I had my own interests, desires and quirks, that I was the person I saw in the mirror, that I wanted to look the way I looked and be who I was and that, overall, I was doing okay.

I was doing okay.

I rejoined the ceremony, numbed.

I timed it well, or awfully perhaps, I'm still not sure: the stabilizer wore off as the Dusking began.

An organizer drone passed me a vira. It was the first time I'd ever been asked to use one. Its lightweight and ergonomic nature terrified me. Something so awful shouldn't be so seamless and easy to use. But, it wasn't awful. Of course it wasn't. It was beautiful. Of course it was. It always had been before, this should have been no exception.

The visitors gravitated toward the stage, or one of the many screens dotted around the venue. Doubtless others were watching from afar, those who didn't carve out the time to visit for whatever reason, but who cared enough to tune in for the Dusking itself.

Zachary stayed close, near the front of the crowd, watching me carefully. Paloma and I stood on the stage, off to the sides, further back than Serrah. She was the center of everything. All eyes were on her.

She beamed at the crowd, her expression so full of joy I thought to myself: there's no way this ends here.

I was so sure of it.

The venue grew quiet, then silent. Her projected voice rang out loud and clear, and so the Dusking had begun.

“Thank you. Thank you to all who came here today, and to those watching from elsewhere, and to any viewing this recording days, or years, from now. Thank you to those who sought me out and spoke to me over the course of the day, or the last few months, and to those who haven't spoken to me in years, but who still hold me somewhere in your hearts. Thank you, all of you. The Dusk is a joyous occasion, and you have helped make today one of the most wondrous and treasured experiences of my life."

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. I felt dizzy and unfocused. I could barely stand. All I could think to do was breathe deep and turn to Paloma. She must have seen my head twist, or predicted its occurrence, as she was staring right back at me. She wore a gentle, generous smile and she nodded at me. It helped. My nerves were soothed, or at least momentarily placated.

Serrah continued as the crowd quietened, her voice powerful, certain and glimmering with elation.

“To my colleagues and acquaintances, my friends and my family, I love you. You have made my hundred-and-fifty-nine years a near-constant pleasure and have given meaning to that which at times has seemed immaterial. It was incredible to see so many of you today, and I hope you've all enjoyed yourselves even half as much as I have."

More cheers, more clapping. I was still in complete denial, waiting for her proclamations of joy to lead her to delay, or reschedule, or even cancel.

How naive, how arrogant.

Dusks are a time of great jubilation. Of course she was joyous. Of course she knew what she was doing. Of course I was wrong.

“There is more that could be said," she continued. “Perhaps more that should be said, but isn't that always the way? At some point we have to be content with all that we have done and seen and felt and given, and move on. So, I'm making this short and sweet which, to those who know me best, should come as no surprise. I would be remiss of course to neglect mentioning those few who made the most impact on my life, and on me as a person. My Mates." She took a moment to herself. The crowd was silent. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then started again. “I was lucky enough to have met four people over the course of my life who I fell in love with, and who fell in love with me. I would like to thank and address them all individually.

“To Kiyoshi, for the unending support and encouragement she provided to me across the hundred years I knew her; for always being there, until she wasn't. Love forevermore. To Mo'an, for her passionate flair and restless energy; for the adventures we shared and the ones we didn't. Love forevermore. I outlived them both." Another deep breath. Another brief silence. She turned to Paloma, glancing at me only briefly. “And I leave behind two more."

My heart broke and my inner monologue disintegrated into static. Still, somehow, part of me believed - in opposition to reality - that the night would end differently than it was quite evidently going to.

“To Paloma, you are beautiful, through and through. You taught me how to love and how to live life in full. You taught me so much. You always found the light hidden in any dark. Where others feared, you flourished. Where others succumbed, you succeeded. You are the strongest person I have ever met. You have more warmth in you than I thought was possible to contain and you share it liberally. You made my days blossom and my nights bloom. From the bottom of my heart I love you, with everything I have, and though you don't want to hear it: I'm sorry that I couldn't find the strength in me to match yours. I tried, you know that I did, but I am a candle and you are a star gone supernova. I know you'll miss me, but I also know you'll make the best of your every day, month and year from now to your eternity. I leave to you my remaining possessions, I hope you'll find sweet sentiment in them, and that you'll cherish me in your memory. You are my Mate, now and always." She stepped forward and embraced Paloma, locking her in a kiss. Paloma, who had held so steady all day, was in tears, clinging to Serrah like she was her everything. And, of course, she was.

It was nothing so out of the ordinary. Things get emotional at Dusks, and while the primary emotion is joy, if anybody was going to start crying it would be a Mate. I was surprised though, surprised that I was not the first to cry. Then again, I still barely believed any of this was actually happening.

The two broke apart and exchanged whispers, then Serrah settled her gaze on me.

“Finally, to Eliot." She returned to center stage. “Eliot, you are so young, and you have so much left to give. There is a fire in you and, though you hide it deep, when you finally let me in to feel its heat, to see its power, it became impossible to deny your allure. You are thoughtful, insightful, sometimes cutting, but always fair. You care deeply about - well - everything, and I know you'd give your all to help the people you love, because you did exactly that for me. You brought such joy and wonder to my life, I can only hope I brought you a fraction of the same. But, there is a darkness in you too. Happiness doesn't come to you easily, you struggle to find meaning, to feel alive. I know those feelings - of course I do - in part we bonded over them, but you need to be kind to yourself, and to give yourself time. I hope that someday you will find your meaning. I hope that the fire in you will have its chance to burn on for a long time to come. To you I leave my Mind."

Every word she spoke was a dagger stab, each syllable carved itself into my insides until her entire speech was etched in all capital letters across my organs, forever unforgettable, but learning of her gift damn near made my heart stop. I didn't know how to react. I couldn't.

“You are my Mate, now and always," she said.

I wasn't crying. I was locked in a shocked stasis as she approached and wrapped me in her final embrace. All I could do was reciprocate meekly and share a brief, insubstantial kiss. She had a surface-level expression of hurt molded onto her face - no doubt brought about by my stupor - but behind that, deep in the recesses of her eyes, was understanding.

She knew I might react as I did. She knew exactly what I was like and who I was. I knew her too, I'd merely been pretending otherwise. Serrah never doubted her decisions made of sound mind. I knew that really. I had always known. She was going to die on her own terms, and it was happening today. This was her Dusk and, for all my desires to the contrary, she knew how it was going to play out months ago.

Serrah returned to center stage once more, looked out across the sea of faces she had known, and smiled. “This is my ending and mine alone. Now it is time to say goodbye. Life and love to all."

And on cue, as far as I could tell, every single attendee other than me repeated the words: “life and love to all."

Paloma lifted her vira as I had seen others do dozens of times at prior Dusks. Now it was my turn. I copied Paloma's action, moving on automatic. We stepped forward until the vira were almost touching Serrah's skin, each tool aimed directly at opposite sides of her head. Paloma was crying, quietly. My face was dry, I couldn't feel a thing.

The stage lifted up, floating above the attendees, and the roof evaporated into a vast expanse of swirling color. The guests looked out into the distorted universe above us, and so did Serrah. She was still smiling.

I felt cold. I'd never felt more cold.

Serrah was going to die. Paloma and I were going to kill her.

It was selfish, but I couldn't deny how I felt: I desperately didn't want this to happen. I wanted to be with Serrah again tomorrow, and the next day and every opportunity I would've had thereafter.

I loved her.

I didn't want her to go.

There was a pulse across the hall that was more felt than heard. It was the start of the countdown.

“Goodbye," the crowd and Paloma said in unison.

Then came the second pulse. My grip on the vira tightened.

I was scared. I had never been more scared.

“Life and love," the crowd and Paloma said in unison.

I tried to stop myself, but it was useless.

“I love you!" I cried out, my emotion all bursting forth at once, tears already gathering and falling. None but Serrah and Paloma could hear me, but that was enough.

Serrah turned to me, away from the infinity above, but her smile didn't falter, it grew.

“I know," she said.

I wanted to say more. I wanted to say so much more, but there was no time.

The third and final pulse.

“Evermore," the crowd and Paloma finished in unison.

Paloma and I squeezed our viras.

A searing flash of blue light surged out of the tools and encompassed Serrah for a fraction of a second, then...

Nothing.

I was crying. Bawling.

The dust that was once Serrah rose up and up in elegant whirls until it left the hall, drifting out into real space, becoming one with all that is or ever was.

After a few seconds the roof re-materialized and the stage sunk back to the floor.

Another Dusk concluded. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing truly special. Maybe nothing in this life really could be any more.

Another Dusk concluded. One out of how many? I could look up the numbers, but I wouldn't do that to myself. Not then, not now. But there must have been a great many Dusks, much like that one, on that very same day. All those people, reduced to dust and memories. All that life, gone.

And, usually? I would celebrate.

Attendees began to shuffle out at their own pace. Some lingered to reminisce and catch up a little longer. Paloma came over and wrapped me in her arms. We cried on one another's shoulders for I don't know how long.

Then Zachary came over, he held me too. He wasn't crying, but his concern was clear. He loved me.

After that I don't remember much.

I was all tears and pain.

I went back with Zach.

He never stopped comforting me, holding me, doing everything he could for me.

I did nothing for him.

I had nothing left to offer.

I wondered if I had died back there, below that swirling infinity, along with Serrah.

I thought of my own Dusk, on how soon it might come.

I couldn't sleep.

I pumped my body full of drugs.

Then I could.