"Sit." Max commanded the sofa in his living room, and it started to transform to meet his command. Behind him, a teenager stood with his digital notebook with the record button glaring.

He told Max his name, but it didn’t stick. Instead, he focused on his request. The Matrix newspaper was doing a column about those who survived the old world, and Max was one of the few who sold themselves.

The chip in the back of his brain was a reminder of what was lost. He might live forever, but no technology could remove how death tainted him even after thousands of years passed.

“So you want to know my story?” Max asked the stranger as he shifted in his spot and looked at the old man.

“Ye-yes. The newspaper is looking for the tales that shaped our society today, and yours is one we seek." He politely nodded at Max’s servant as it served him some kind of drink. Max didn’t care to know what it was or if his guest would like it. It had been a long time since he last cared.

Silence settled between them until it was broken by the noise made by the small sips the teenager took. He kept staring at the ground, waiting for Max’s answer.

“Okay.”

Max closed his eyes and started to relive what happened.

The rain surrounded Max and Sarah as they hid behind a broken dumpster. Around them, the robots of Future, the company controlling the city, were roaming the streets looking for the two of them.

Both had a target on their heads. “Most-wanted” they were called. The title clung to them after the surveillance cameras caught their faces several times near destroyed future policemen.

It was what Max and Sarah did. It was what they knew to do.

They have been part of those forgotten by the future in their rise of society. They were the outcasts left to try and survive in the remains of what was left of their world.

Their parents were friends. They lived in the same ruins, and they died in them under the hands of Future as they tried to bring them down to their level.

Death taught them more than any technology would. It taught them to fight before they give up, and fight they did.

So here they were, stuck together with their matching “most-wanted” tattoos taking place on their left hands. They got them on a drunken night after they stole some money from one of Future’s men.

Max tried to raise his head and see if the road was clear when Sarah hissed "Duck!" and pushed his head down as an officer passed near them.

“Thanks.”

“You know that we can’t survive for longer, right?” was Sarah’s response as she refused to meet her best friend’s eyes.

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because you know that it is the truth, and I’m saying it because you refuse to acknowledge it. We can’t keep running forever. Our parents did and look where that got them. I’m tired, Max. We have been running and hiding and starving for years, and all that running didn’t bring us forward. Instead, we are here near a dumpster that matches the other dozens we hid behind before. We are going to die, if not soon then later, but it is a fact.”

At his silence, Sarah continued saying what she thought Max already knew. “We can’t keep going like this. We have to find a solution because they are far better. They are getting ahead of us more and more with each passing day while we are still trying to hold onto the past. I see you staring at the picture remaining of your parents every day, and I hear you trying to hold back your tears.”

“I don’t want you to die, Max,” she whispered when she realised that Max wasn’t going to reply. He only looked around them to make sure that the road was clear, and then he ran back to their current shelter. Sarah ran behind him one more time.

That night at the shelter, silence surrounded them along with the darkness. Max kept his parents’ picture hidden under the pillow he and Sarah shared. That day, he wouldn’t have been able to stifle his tears.

Sleep overtook him without saying goodbye to Sarah. He stirred in the morning when he felt Sarah kissing his cheek, but he was still upset.

It was only when the silence became unbearable that he decided to wake up. He didn’t realise then that he and Sarah ran their last run yesterday.

A police officer with the words The future engraved on his shield stood in front of Max. Thoughts swirled inside his mind as his eyes searched for Sarah, only to find nothing. Did she?

Max would have fought. He would have tried to take the gun from the arsehole in front of him, but he was torn. A part of him was worried about Sarah, and another part was convinced that she betrayed him to survive. So he didn’t run. He didn’t fight. He surrendered without any struggle as he was led outside.

The light shone brightly on Max’s face as he tried to see beyond it. It was then that he saw Sarah on her knees with a gun pointing at the back of her head. The “most-wanted” tattoo was clear in the daylight, and so were Max’s tears.

He couldn’t count how many times he yelled her name or how many times he tried to run toward her only to be held back. He stared at her smile like this was a normal end. Like this was what she wanted.

It was.

The words of the high officer sounded empty, but they never left Max’s mind.

“Your friend here made with us a great deal. She dies; you live. Forever.”

Sarah whispered to Max “forever” before the sound of the gun filled the place.

His tears this time weren’t hidden, and the teenager looked around him, trying to probably locate some kind of tissue to hand to Max.

“After she died, they planted their immortality chip in the back of my head. Now, the promise of forever wasn’t a lie.”

“How did you feel?”

“What do you think? I felt like death couldn’t even satisfy me. I didn’t just lose Sarah, but I also lost the chance to say goodbye. I only realised that she did that because she loved me, and I lost the chance to love her back properly." Max’s tears stopped now as he pointed toward the door.

The teenager understood and got up. He wanted to ask about the picture Max had of his parents, if he still had it with him, when he saw an empty frame hanging on the wall behind Max.

The old man followed his eyes, and he gave his back to the teenager as he said, "Get out.”

The kid would have talked. He would have tried to hug Max or do anything, but he stopped.

He stopped when he saw how the chip in the back of Max’s head was surrounded by deep cuts, healed and fresh, as if someone were trying to take it out.