My name is Gabriel Almneir, and I'm the oldest man alive.
I don't know how it started. Well, of course, I do. Photographic memory and all that jazz.
But I'm talking about how I've stayed this old.
Growing up, I believed and accepted a simple truth: I would die.
But when I reached eighty, I didn't die.
I thought I was one of the luckier fellows.
But that belief was long gone when I lived to the ripe age of one hundred.
The strange thing is: My body has stopped aging. It seems that when I reached sixty-four, my body stopped aging. And since then, I haven't received another wrinkle.
Each morning, I wake up to a beautiful sunrise.
White clouds blanket the sky, orange, yellow, and faint pink reflect of my window, and I smile, knowing it's still beautiful, even though I've seen it so many times.
Today, I see the same view. I also see the same people.
Forest from the cafe, opening the doors to greet his customers.
Nancy from the apartment downstairs, reading another on the bench.
And Lily the bus driver, taking citizens to their destination.
I always see someone in all these people. Forest reminds me of George Washington, just on how he runs his cafe. Always taking care of them and knowing what to do.
Then again, Forest wasn't in the middle of a battleground and didn't have access to gunpowder.
In Nancy, I see Harriet Tubman. I didn't have lots of encounters with Harriet, but I met her once while I was helping slaves escape. Keeps her calm, and looks innocent.
But Nancy is more than a pretty face. She owns a two-story bar.
Yes. A normal view from my apartment.
But the normalness of it all would end soon.