Second Childhood by Clifford D. Simak

You did not die.

There was no normal way to die.

You lived as carelessly and as recklessly as you could and you hoped that you would be lucky and be accidentally killed.

You kept on living and you got tired of living.

“God, how tired a man can get of living!” Andrew Young said.

John Riggs, chairman of the immortality commission, cleared his throat.

“You realize,” he said to Andrew Young, “that this petition is a highly irregular procedure to bring to our attention.”

He picked up the sheaf of papers off the table and ruffled through them rapidly.

“There is no precedent,” he added.

“I had hoped,” said Andrew Young, “to establish precedent.”

Commissioner Stanford said, “I must admit that you have made a good case, Ancestor Young. Yet you must realize that this commission has no possible jurisdiction over the life of any person, except to see that everyone is assured of all the benefits of immortality and to work out any kinks that may show up.”

“I am well aware of that,” answered Young, “and it seems to me that my case is one of the kinks you mention.”

He stood silently, watching the faces of the members of the board. They are afraid, he thought. Every one of them. Afraid of the day they will face the thing I am facing now. They have sought an answer and there is no answer yet except the pitifully basic answer, the brutally fundamental answer that I have given them.

“My request is simple,” he told them, calmly. “I have asked for permission to discontinue life.”