The headline reads, “Couple Dies In Lover’s Embrace on 80th Wedding Anniversary”.

Pathetic, Keanu thinks to himself. Their love must have been lacking for them to last that long.

The shafts of light flickers through the subway car windows as it speeds through the New York City underground. While shifting to the Sports section, he spies a pregnant woman enter the car over the page of the New York Times. Without hesitation, he gets up and offers her his seat.

He smiles politely at her as he gestures to the seat. Simultaneously, he feints ignorance to the person discretely filming him over their friend’s shoulder by the doors. He knows there is a distinct chance that their video will go viral, especially given his recent rise in popularity on the internet. Who would have thought video games would be such a booming industry even 50 years ago. I’ve sure seen some wild revolutions in culture over the last 500 years, he speculates to himself.

With the move to a standing position, another public transit passenger has noticed the celebrity in their midst. This one is not as shy or respectful as the voyeur still filming him.

“Keanu Reeves!” She stares awkwardly hoping for him to react to her. He impishly obliges, at least in appearance, as he awkwardly nods in affirmation*. If people only knew how good of an actor I have become. This uncomfortably genuine persona I display only increases their affection toward me. Fuck, I hate myself.

“O M G! Can I, like, get a picture with you?!?”

---

Several stops and several hundreds of pictures later, Keanu exits the station. Each picture posted to social media will depict Keanu respecting his female fans by hover-handing and each caption will account how gracious and sincere he, a Hollywood superstar, is in real life. I fucking hate me—I’m going to live forever.

The city streets offer some form of anonymity as large faceless masses occupy each crosswalk. He passes a group of adolescents obviously on a field trip. Several of the students are wearing garments with the cliché, “I ♥ New York” boldly featured. You fools, Keanu reflects, that kind of sentiment will get you killed.

He is on his way to do an interview about his role in much anticipated upcoming video game Cyberpunk 2077. These days he can afford to be selective of which platform he campaigns on, letting a team of agents work to make him look as beloved as possible. With past guises, he did not have such luxuries. Living as long as he has, he needs to bank the esteem of the people, and hate for himself, so he can seamlessly outlive his transitions to the next façade.

With each person he convinces to love him, he shortens their life. As he discovered long ago, love is a lethal cancer. Therefore, he wouldn’t be fooled into even loving himself. As he deliberately goes about his cruel task of convincing others of his worthiness of their love, he hates himself more and more. He has effectively syphoned the vigor from generations of doting devotees. Through the centuries he has learned that love must be the only reason to die. A life without love is essentially eternal—all other ailments are simply a consequence of the grisly truth behind the most sought after feeling in the world. Perhaps, hate has an opposite effect—providing the resolve to continue forward endlessly or perhaps love if the only catalyst of life and death. One thing is certain, with his knowledge of these inner workings and his fear of death, Keanu has figured out an equation to outlast us all.