This is my entry for the Finish the story contest run by @f3nix. You can find details at the link below.
https://steemit.com/contest/@f3nix/finish-the-story-contest-week-18

The beginning of this weeks's story was written by @calluna. I have loved reading her stories in recent weeks, so I am very happy to be able to write an ending for one of them.

Please note: My story ran 772 words. Feel free to disqualify it from prize contention. I just wanted to write the story and wasn't worried about the prizes.

Quitting Life

She picked up a resignation form today. She had been thinking about it for a while, handing in her notice, taking her last year. Every day is just the same, different faces, different flavours, but underneath, it was all the same. Was there any point in the endless forward march, the slow decline into ill health, unemployment and poverty? She didn’t have children, no friends who came to visit, and it was at least three years since her last match.

She sat on the corner of her single bed, in her single room, the thin long window illuminating the bare floor. She pushed a loose strand of mousy blonde hair behind her ear, and picking at her thumb, she wandered in thought.

She could travel, she could see the ocean, she could stand beneath trees, she could sit in silence. For one year. It was as good as it got, some people only got 6 months. But was she ready?

She couldn’t keep going, not like this. She had seen the lifers, the people who worked for 65 years and collapsed, decrepit, into the hands of hapless, half-hearted “help”. She had even been that half-hearted, hapless help, she had worked for minimum wage, clearing up bodily fluids, spoon feeding, doing what she could, but it destroyed you, seeing all your future had to offer.

A lot of people who worked there handed in their notice; you had to do it between 40 and 55 to get the year. Some people applied for special circumstances after 55, but generally they got less time.

She was 47. A lot could change in her life still. She could meet someone, she could have children, grandchildren, she could grow old. Couldn’t she…? Did she want to? She turned it over in her mind. She had accepted a lot in her life, but she just couldn’t face the rest of her life, playing out, day by slow dragging, hardworking, lonely, day. Night after empty, starless night. If she took her year, she could get away from the cities and their thick rank pollution. She could escape the crush of the masses, the regimented flow of preoccupied people. Her parents took her to a forest once, before the regulations changed, and closing her eyes, she could almost hear the hushed whisper of branches, almost feel the dappled sunlight on her upturned face. Almost. She opened her eyes, was there ever really any question? She had dreamed of it for as long as she could remember, and in that moment, she realised, she was always going to quit, it was never a question of did she want to, just when. Was she ready?

She flopped back onto her bed, bouncing back against the overly springy mattress. Relief coursed through her. She was going to quit, maybe not today, but she would do it. The digital display in the wall flashed, green numbers ticking over, 23:00. Instinctively, she felt around her bedside tablet, and pressing the button, retrieved her small blue pill. Blue before bed, white before work. It dissolved on her tongue, and she felt the thoughtless relaxation wash over her.

The next morning, she woke before her alarm had chance to rouse her. She stood at the window, watching the constant ebb and flow of people and traffic, the living city beneath her never slept. Her resolve had only hardened overnight, it felt right. She retrieved the form. She would quit. She would take the year. One good year, then call it quits.

Source: Pixabay

. . . And now my continuation of the story.

In the background the panel on the television infomercial discussed:

"Yes Jim, overpopulation is dragging down the planet. There aren't enough jobs, houses, even food. Taking their year is the only responsible choice a person of a certain age can make in today's world."

Sandra turned off the television as she swallowed her last gulp of coffee before rushing out the door like every other day. It was then she realized she no longer needed to rush. She was turning in her papers and taking her year. She had no more work deadlines or time clock to punch. A sense of freedom briefly washed over her . . . until the loud noises of reality out on the city streets jumped back into her head.

She arrived at the offices of L.A.S.T. (the Life Assessment Systems Terminal) to turn in her papers. The woman behind the large metal sanitized looking kiosk reviewed the papers and rubber stamped them in four places, each of which then required Sandra's initials to make everything official.

"That's everything honey. Please head down this hall and take the second door on the right. Be seated in there and your group orientation will begin shortly."

Sandra replied, "Thank you, Louise," and made her way to orientation.

When it was time, the lights dimmed and a large video screen lowered. What followed was an introduction to "The Year," along with all of the rules and specifications of the program. Attendees were then led to the showers. When they emerged, all similarly clothed, a chip was placed in their wrists for tracking purposes.

They were led into a fancy-looking train depot which had a couple of dozen departures listed: Sydney, London, New York City, Anchorage, Munich, all sorts of other exotic and not so exotic locales. People were free to choose where they wanted to go. Sandra and a group of about five others from the group chose the train to Portland, Oregon. She really knew nothing of the area, but she faintly remembered the forest her parents took her to in her youth was near there.

On the train, a handsome young man in his late thirties struck up an awkward conversation. "So, we did it. We took the year. Just 365 days to have a real life. To do what we want. To not have to take those damned pills anymore. Then we go back and just let them kill us all off. I guess it's worth it, right?"

Sandra suddenly became a bit overwhelmed with the gravity of their decision, but then simply shrugged a little and said, "I guess."

When the train arrived at its destination, everyone emptied onto the platform. Adam, the young man, asked Sandra if she'd like to get something to eat with him so they could continue their "conversation." Sandra once again simply shrugged and said, "I guess." Only this time, she did so with a smile as her cheeks turned slightly pink.

In the coming months, Sandra and Adam became inseparable. Their friendship blossomed into love. They had found the happiness they always lacked in their mundane every day regimented life.

They realized that they had just one more month, just 30 short days to be together and then they would be dead. The decision they had made some 300 plus days ago when they had nothing, when they were miserable, seemed right at the time. Now, however, they wanted to live. They wanted to be together.

Unfortunately, there was no way to revoke their decision. The contract must be carried out to its (and their) end.

They decided that was not good enough for them. They dug those tracking chips out of one another and tossed them into the Pacific Ocean. They hoped that the tracker bots would just assume they had walked into the ocean to end it on their own terms.

When their year had expired and they were nowhere to be found, search teams were sent out in an attempt to track them down. After all, the penalty for not returning after The Year to be extinguished from society was ironically death. After their signals were tracked to somewhere deep in the ocean, the search was called off. Sandra and Adam were marked as dead.

In reality, Sandra led Adam deep into the forest to a cave she had remembered from her visit with her parents those many years ago. They hid out there for a few months before venturing out to find Sandra's parents' cabin. They would live out their many remaining years, free, without the mood-altering pills, and away from an overbearing society.