Executioner

Jarleen flipped the switch and watched as the man in the electric chair was fried from the inside out, his brain turned to mush, and his internal organs turned to crisps. He felt the rush enter him, like countless times before, as the man simply ceased to be. He had taken countless lives in his time - all legally, unlike those he killed - and he would take countless more. Many rulers had come and gone in his time, and he served under them loyally - but when the time came, if they were not loyal to their people, he had taken their lives all the same.

But there were fewer lives to taken now a days then once there had been, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Jarleen knew that that meant his days would become numbered. As more of the populace became opposed to the idea of the death penalty as it was now called, the criteria for a person being sent to their death became more specific, and a smaller number of people were being sent to him. The executioners role would last perhaps a hundred more years at most. What he would do after that time would become uncertain.

He watched as the corpse was carried away from him, and felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder. He needed not look to see who it was. "Jarleen, my friend," the president said, "how many years have you been alive now?"

"I turn 17,622 in four months, sir," he stated flatly. "I have served as an executioner since I was 43 years old."

"How do you keep track of that? Having been alive so long... All the lives you must have taken."

"I am an executioner, sir. It is what I do. But there is not a day that goes by that I do not count."

"So if I were to ask you today how much longer you will stay alive?"

Jarleen shrugged. "I take the remaining life of those I kill, sir. As do you, should you be put in that position. But to say how long each man should live is beyond our capabilities. I could kill a sixty year old and get thirty more years from him, or a twenty year old and only get five. It is impossible to say. But given how long I have lived, and how many I have killed in each year, it is safe to say I will live a good while longer yet."

The president nodded to himself. "You are a good man, Jarleen. We are fortunate to have had you for so long."

Only then did he turn to look at the man. "When you serve as executioner, you learn not to be the one in the chair."