Thomas Kinkade Sweetheart Cottage II paintingThomas Kinkade Sunrise Chapel paintingThomas Kinkade Sunday at Apple Hill painting
captain had decided me to visit Aya after all, and I disembarked.
The captain, a man of sixty or so, had assured me that there were indeed immortals on the island. They were not born immortal but contracted immortality from the bite of the island flies. It was, he thought, a virus. "You'll want to take precautions," he said. "It's rare. I don't think there's been a new case in the last hundred years—longer, maybe. But you don't want to take chances."
After pondering a while I inquired, as delicately as possible, though delicacy is hard to achieve on the translatomat, whether there weren't people who wanted to escape death-people who came to the island hoping to be bitten by one of these lively flies. Was there a drawback I did not know about, some price too high to pay even for immortality?
The captain considered my question
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