We not (Nosotros, No)That afternoon, when the bells jingled tickers and the news was spread like amiracle, men from all latitudes were confused in a cry of triumph. As had beenpredicted two hundred years earlier the man had finally conquered immortality in2168.All speakers in the world, all transmitters of images, all newsletters,highlighted this major biological revolution. Also I was glad, of course, in afirst moment.How we waited for this day!A single injection of ten cubic centimeters, was all it took to not ever die. Asingle injection, given every hundred years, ensured that no human body was neverdecompose. Since that day only an accident could kill a human life. Goodbye to thedisease, old age, death by organic weakness.A single shot, every hundred years.Until news came the second, complementary to the first. The injection only takeeffect among those under twenty. No human being who had crossed the age of growthcould halt its internal decay in time. Only the young would be immortal. The worldfederal government and was preparing to organize the shipping, distribution andapplication of doses to all the children and adolescents in the land. Medicinecompartments of rockets would take the bulbs to the more remote coloniesterrestrial spaceAll would be immortal.Less we, the older adults, trained in whose body the seed of death was definitelyalready implanted.All the boys survive forever. They would be immortal, and indeed animals ofanother species. No longer human beings: his psychology, his vision, hisperspective, were radically different from ours.All would be immortal. Masters of the universe forever. Free. Fertile. Gods.We not. We men and women over twenty years, are the latest generation mortal. Wewere the farewell, goodbye, the bone tissue and blood that flew last time, on theface of the earth.We not. Marginalized suddenly, as the last grandparent, suddenly we had becomeresidents of a nursing home, confused frightened rabbits among a race of titans.These young people suddenly began to be our executioners without trying. We werenot their parents. Since that day, we were something else, something ugly andsick, illogical and monstrous, we were those who would die. Those awaiting death.They shed tears, hiding her contempt, mixed with joy. With that innocent joy withwhich they expressed their certainty that now, now you all should go well.We only hoped for. See them grow, be beautiful, young and continue to prepare forthe second shot ... a ceremony, "that we would see no religious character, whosewould become evident. They will not ever encounter with God. The last shipment ofsouls toward the past, it was ours.Now how much would it cost to leave the ground! How would we painfully gnawingenvy! Many wanted to kill us fill the soul, from today until the day we die!