Donnie's Wife Monologue

Gasping. Fresh air fills Donnie’s lungs. Searingly cold. Donnie opened his eyes, a blinding white room occupies his vision. Again.
A profluent voice issues into Donnie’s head, “You have been revived by your loving government. You have experienced a near death experience. Please remember than intentional deletion is not permitted in the United States. If you wish to be deleted, please present your application to a local branch.”
Slowly, Donnie heaves his new body off a coroner’s table. The world sways slightly. Fixer drugs do that to him. Wandering through a hallway filled with debris, you reach the high arcing front door. Barely impressive anymore, you pass under the crumbling masonry without a second glance.
On the street, the soft cascades

From the pocket of his ageing leather jacket he pulled a small notebook. Another tally mark, another revival, the 23rd this week. Flipping to the middle, Donnie reads a random diary entry from decades ago.
20th January 2038 I revived for the 100th time today! They say the government sends you a gift at 100; I hope it’s wine. Wine is so much sweeter when I don’t have to worry about my liver! The nurses were very kind. Everyone loves this new system.
The news this morning said that Earth’s population has reached 1.5 trillion! What about the resources though? Surely there aren’t enough? But I guess when people starve or whatever, they just get revived, so they probably don’t really care? Starving doesn’t really hurt that much. Does

More than 200. Donnie stopped keeping a calendar when the industrial one ran out of days. It’s been a long time. Always the same people; no one has children anymore. Why would you?
Rousing yourself roughly from your nostalgic thoughts, Donnie walks to the far end of the lobby. Climbing a once-lavish staircase up through fourty-five floors. He wanders down corridors of peeling paint. Into a fire well. Up an emergency stair. Out a dented trap door.
A bleak, concrete landscape greets you, flues staggering the broad panorama. Donnie weaves across the surface, coming to the cement rim. A memory floods his conscious.

A bureaucrat was preaching to the assembled masses, “the new revival system will improve the lives of each and every US citizen, our dream of living forever is now a reality.”
He looked down at the young girl holding your hand. She looked back, her small face creased in worry, “Don’t people want to die when they get old?” Donnie smiled at her, “No, no one really wants to die.”

The city skyline reoccupies his mind. Donnie grimaces at the