The People in My Head: Jonah
Jonah wanted to die. It was a simple desire, but he did not want to die forgotten. He wanted to be remembered. So despite his own innate hatred of himself and his depression and desire to be rid of himself, he persevered in life to insure he would be remembered in death.
To this end, he first looked to amassing a large sum of money. Death held a fear for him now, as he needed control of his death in order to give his life meaning. Bank robbing was immediately discarded as being too risky, as was burglary and the other associated trades of gaining large sums of money by illicit means. He needed something quick and legal, so he went into business for himself.
It took him three years to amass the basic capital to start his company. Firmly grounded, he demonstrated a keen eye for a good business proposition, and within two years he was a multi-millionaire. Throughout the long nights of despair and agony, he reminded himself of what he was doing. He was creating a false counterpart to himself, a happy person, filled with the love of life and wanting to share his joy with others. Someone who would be missed.
Having made his fortune, he sold the company and left a rich man. It wasn't easy, the life of a businessman had begun to appeal to him, but he was so busy during the day he scarcely had time to contemplate the final form of his death. Jonah was not a foolish or easily distracted man however, he would not shirk from the task he had set himself, he would finish it. But business held its appeal. While in control of so many other lives, he had found he could stop people from making the horrible choices he had made. He decided that was how he would spend his money.
Jonah was amused at the terrible irony of it all, a self-funded charity to save those in despair started by a suicidal man determined to make his mark to justify his death. He began the charity by presenting a large novelty cheque to his appointed administrator and made a speech about how he came to make something of himself from his own humble beginnings. From next to nothing he had built a small empire for himself, and nothing now would stop him from creating something to pass on his own sense of drive and worth to others. His charity would help set up the homeless and the helpless in businesses whose capital would be supplied by the charity. The businesses would exist under the umbrella of the charity, repaying their debt as they became more successful. Those who failed would have their failure absorbed by the Jonah Foundation. There was no risk to it, only a chance to shine in an otherwise dim world.
Hundreds and thousands flocked to appeal for money for foolish ventures, and the administration of the foundation spent their time weeding out the frauds and the foolhardy. Jonah himself took an active part in the selection of proposals, it was his skill, and he shared it willingly. He awarded money to worthy schemes, and assigned work to those without vision. It was a wonderful time, and the world praised Jonah for his efforts.
Next, Jonah had to plan the method of his death. He realised that he could not make his suicide obvious anymore, that would jeopardise his legacy and cast doubt on his motives. He needed an obscure manner of death, something transcendent and untraceable. He could not die from natural causes, nor could he die from anything clearly self-inflicted. He settled upon a steady increase in the taking of a certain drug. Beyond a certain level the body would react and die, below a certain level nothing would happen. The drug had to be administered in slowly rising doses until the killing dose took effect and ended his life while he slept. Soon after, the drug would dissipate into his flesh, vanishing as he died. It was a very certain drug, certain to succeed, with exact certainty required.
It took Jonah three years to develop the drug, because nothing like it existed. He assigned various elements of its construction to four companies under the umbrella of the Jonah Foundation. Each participated willingly, unaware of what the final cocktail would produce. His death would be a drawn-out test of his own determination, because he feared he might have changed. Each day would be a trial to him, a challenge to take the next escalation in dosage, to step closer to death.
When the drug was prepared at last, he took the doses in slowly increasing volumes until the day came when the final dose was ready. He consumed it without a single thought.
That day he arranged his affairs, made sure the foundation was making money for itself and helping people make the best of themselves. He even visited a few of the companies he had helped to start. Each employee personally greeted him with thanks, and the few who received advance warning bore flowers and chocolates. His legacy was grand indeed, and he was very proud of them all.
That night, he settled down on his bed, knowing that the final moment was near. He read three chapters of a book by a man named E.R. Eddison, then placed it beside him on the bedstead and turned out the light.
The next morning he woke to a bright light, and wondered if he was in heaven. The phone rang, which told him otherwise. Jonah answered the phone unwillingly, puzzling over what had happened. It was his administrator calling to tell him that all the managers of the companies the Jonah Foundation had started wished to give him a party. From those who had achieved full independence to those just beginning, they all wanted to share their joy with him.
Jonah just wanted to die.
As he dressed in his suit before the mirror, he looked at the healthy face before him. He wanted to strangle it. As he shaved himself, he tried to slit his wrists, he didn't care about his great plans anymore, he wanted to die.
He didn't.
On his way to the party, he drove his car into a wall. The metal crushed and the plastic snapped, bricks and mortar gave unwillingly, and dust settled on a sculpture of psychosis.
He survived.
Signalling a taxi to reach the ballroom the Jonah Foundation had hired to honour him, he stepped into the path of three oncoming cars. Two swerved and avoided him, one hit him just as a gust of wind lifted him from behind. He was flung into the air and landed heavily on his feet, none the worse for the experience. The driver recognised him, and still in shock, offered to drive him to his party. Shocked himself, Jonah accepted.
When he reached the party, he looked out across the ballroom to see thousands of faces, managers and employees of companies he had helped into existence. Beneficiaries of a legacy he could not leave. They applauded him, they loved him. They could not imagine life without him, without their benefactor. No Jonah would mean no focus to the Jonah Foundation. He was the man with the drive, he was the man who had made it happen. His was the philosophy that lay at the core of every company represented in that immense room. They stood before him in adulation, the worship of a self-made deity written in their eyes.
Jonah wanted to die.
To this end, he first looked to amassing a large sum of money. Death held a fear for him now, as he needed control of his death in order to give his life meaning. Bank robbing was immediately discarded as being too risky, as was burglary and the other associated trades of gaining large sums of money by illicit means. He needed something quick and legal, so he went into business for himself.
It took him three years to amass the basic capital to start his company. Firmly grounded, he demonstrated a keen eye for a good business proposition, and within two years he was a multi-millionaire. Throughout the long nights of despair and agony, he reminded himself of what he was doing. He was creating a false counterpart to himself, a happy person, filled with the love of life and wanting to share his joy with others. Someone who would be missed.
Having made his fortune, he sold the company and left a rich man. It wasn't easy, the life of a businessman had begun to appeal to him, but he was so busy during the day he scarcely had time to contemplate the final form of his death. Jonah was not a foolish or easily distracted man however, he would not shirk from the task he had set himself, he would finish it. But business held its appeal. While in control of so many other lives, he had found he could stop people from making the horrible choices he had made. He decided that was how he would spend his money.
Jonah was amused at the terrible irony of it all, a self-funded charity to save those in despair started by a suicidal man determined to make his mark to justify his death. He began the charity by presenting a large novelty cheque to his appointed administrator and made a speech about how he came to make something of himself from his own humble beginnings. From next to nothing he had built a small empire for himself, and nothing now would stop him from creating something to pass on his own sense of drive and worth to others. His charity would help set up the homeless and the helpless in businesses whose capital would be supplied by the charity. The businesses would exist under the umbrella of the charity, repaying their debt as they became more successful. Those who failed would have their failure absorbed by the Jonah Foundation. There was no risk to it, only a chance to shine in an otherwise dim world.
Hundreds and thousands flocked to appeal for money for foolish ventures, and the administration of the foundation spent their time weeding out the frauds and the foolhardy. Jonah himself took an active part in the selection of proposals, it was his skill, and he shared it willingly. He awarded money to worthy schemes, and assigned work to those without vision. It was a wonderful time, and the world praised Jonah for his efforts.
Next, Jonah had to plan the method of his death. He realised that he could not make his suicide obvious anymore, that would jeopardise his legacy and cast doubt on his motives. He needed an obscure manner of death, something transcendent and untraceable. He could not die from natural causes, nor could he die from anything clearly self-inflicted. He settled upon a steady increase in the taking of a certain drug. Beyond a certain level the body would react and die, below a certain level nothing would happen. The drug had to be administered in slowly rising doses until the killing dose took effect and ended his life while he slept. Soon after, the drug would dissipate into his flesh, vanishing as he died. It was a very certain drug, certain to succeed, with exact certainty required.
It took Jonah three years to develop the drug, because nothing like it existed. He assigned various elements of its construction to four companies under the umbrella of the Jonah Foundation. Each participated willingly, unaware of what the final cocktail would produce. His death would be a drawn-out test of his own determination, because he feared he might have changed. Each day would be a trial to him, a challenge to take the next escalation in dosage, to step closer to death.
When the drug was prepared at last, he took the doses in slowly increasing volumes until the day came when the final dose was ready. He consumed it without a single thought.
That day he arranged his affairs, made sure the foundation was making money for itself and helping people make the best of themselves. He even visited a few of the companies he had helped to start. Each employee personally greeted him with thanks, and the few who received advance warning bore flowers and chocolates. His legacy was grand indeed, and he was very proud of them all.
That night, he settled down on his bed, knowing that the final moment was near. He read three chapters of a book by a man named E.R. Eddison, then placed it beside him on the bedstead and turned out the light.
The next morning he woke to a bright light, and wondered if he was in heaven. The phone rang, which told him otherwise. Jonah answered the phone unwillingly, puzzling over what had happened. It was his administrator calling to tell him that all the managers of the companies the Jonah Foundation had started wished to give him a party. From those who had achieved full independence to those just beginning, they all wanted to share their joy with him.
Jonah just wanted to die.
As he dressed in his suit before the mirror, he looked at the healthy face before him. He wanted to strangle it. As he shaved himself, he tried to slit his wrists, he didn't care about his great plans anymore, he wanted to die.
He didn't.
On his way to the party, he drove his car into a wall. The metal crushed and the plastic snapped, bricks and mortar gave unwillingly, and dust settled on a sculpture of psychosis.
He survived.
Signalling a taxi to reach the ballroom the Jonah Foundation had hired to honour him, he stepped into the path of three oncoming cars. Two swerved and avoided him, one hit him just as a gust of wind lifted him from behind. He was flung into the air and landed heavily on his feet, none the worse for the experience. The driver recognised him, and still in shock, offered to drive him to his party. Shocked himself, Jonah accepted.
When he reached the party, he looked out across the ballroom to see thousands of faces, managers and employees of companies he had helped into existence. Beneficiaries of a legacy he could not leave. They applauded him, they loved him. They could not imagine life without him, without their benefactor. No Jonah would mean no focus to the Jonah Foundation. He was the man with the drive, he was the man who had made it happen. His was the philosophy that lay at the core of every company represented in that immense room. They stood before him in adulation, the worship of a self-made deity written in their eyes.
Jonah wanted to die.
posted by Andrew Lee at 11:21 AM
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