I'm trying to write myself out of this lack of enthusiasm for writing.

...

The world is about to unite under one Earth. The Nations, as these immortals have been called, will soon disappear. One woman has been hired to record their priceless memories and experiences.

These are her writings.

...

January 24

Tonight, a conference on World Law will begin. There's a lot of resentment towards the Nations, seen as holdovers from a broken system. It's always a bit more complex than that - there's something to be learned from them - from their unique experience.

In only six months, it will be decided, and countries will be abolished. Who knows what will happen? All I know is that beneath the representation of them being nations, they were also people. People with experiences and personalities that should not be forgotten.

...

He towers over many people at the station. I myself only reach his shoulder. But somehow, I feel at ease - as though I'm near an ancient volcano that had erupted thousands of years ago. "I call myself Ivan, these days." the accent was thick, and a superficial part of me wants to visit his region. Of course, that's incredibly silly. "See, Russia is going to be region now - it's big enough. So to call myself that is a resistance to change. Change is good." he smiles, and there is a chill in the air. "It's also painful... But I know this, yes?" A strange question to ask, no doubt.

We stare at a plane, maintenance workers assigned to clean the air. Still, after fifty years of cleaning, there is some left. "It's a beautiful night." I say, because there are no holograms in the sky - the moon, on fire with the light of its cities, is better when we see the reality. Or at least, that's my opinion. But this is way off topic, and now the man is staring at me as though I completely checked out of the real world. "Ah, yes. Indeed." I mumble.

"I did not say anything?"

Already off to a wonderful start.

...

Ukraine has a strange gait, to say the least. Possibly due to her comically large breasts - only noting due to some symbolism relating to farmland. She pulls a handgun out of her purse, and I jump. Who carries these around any more? "It's an old model." she grins at me, quickly taking the pistol apart. "I like them. The cold metal, the power. We don't have a lot to do, lately, so I go into hobbies." I relax. Clearly she's just into the engineering.

To be honest, guns are a fascinating machine. And I gawk as she puts it back together in only a few moments. Of course, the woman notices my interest. "You want to hold it?" she says, "Come on, I can teach you to shoot. Why not? Take a break from that boring notebook. You're really writing what I say as I say it?"

She laughs. "Well, do you want to shoot? There is safe place to practice behind my house."

"I'm sorry, but aren't firearms illegal?"

"It's the fact that I'm not allowed to that makes it fun. I remember when America- or Alfred - would go on and on about those wonderful Cuban cigars... I like that he can have them now." I did not expect her to cry, just like that.

...

The man clearly enjoys his wine - its set out on his table and everything. "Hm... The year was good. White wine is not my taste, but the year was good." he kind of mumbles to himself. "So... what is immortality like?"

"Ha ha, madmoiselle, that's a tough question for so early in the evening. We could fill books and books on it. Our lives are arduous, but with each year we only grow more beautiful. Ah... this is going to end. So, I enjoy myself like some normal human. This makes sense, oui?" he sips his wine, but I feel there's more to it. The light outside begins to fade, and he turns on the radio, "Back in the old days, I would wait for the music to start. But now, it is everywhere. Available when I want it? What is the point of that? How can a beautiful person like me get so upset at technology?"

I shake my head. I don't know, nor do I understand the question.

...

Although he is only an inch or two taller than me, I still feel somewhat uneasy about his figure. His blond hair is slicked back in a basic style, and the eyes are strikingly blue - he seems to be busy with something in his kitchen. Whatever he's making, it smells very appetizing. "What is that?"

He pokes his head out into the hall, "Sausage and rice." he says. Daylight seeps into the room, and I'm glad that I got to spend the night in one of the many rooms in this gorgeous house. It's odd, being up this early, but it simply seems to be his way of doing things. "You weren't here when I arrived. It must be a pretty busy time, I suppose." to be honest, I'm very curious, but I'm not about to badger him when he offered to let me stay here a few days in advance.

"I often spend time with old friends, it's a lovely house, but I'd rather be somewhere with them if I'm awake at night."

I wonder who these friends are - but for now, I'm hungry and this food smells really good.

...

"You'll totally have a great time. If I'm gonna kick the bucket, might as well go out after six months of awesome!" He's awfully blunt, to say the least. "Me and Mathew are gonna go hang out at this bar, hey maybe you can convince Ludwig to give you a copy of his house keys so you don't have to get back before ten or something. Dude's a total buzzkill about that."

I can't help but smile - he reminds me of another, non-immortal boy I knew. Remembering my "hospitality gift", I take a small box out of my bag. "Here. Thanks for letting me interview you." He sniffs the box, like some eager pet. "Aw yeah!"

In it, a set of flavored cigars. I don't know anyone who smokes anymore, but clearly he does.

...

The rain is heavy and suffocating. As I sip my coffee, Ivan looks into the window, almost like his reflection would tumble out. "So, how old do you think you are?" he smiles that same odd smile.

"I am old."

...

While Alfred is talking to the bartender, I finally get a chance to speak to Mathew, formerly known as Canada. He seemed nice enough, but tried to disappear far too often. He currently is reading - how he manages to do this in this shrieking void of neon and bass is beyond me. Hesitantly, I tap him on the shoulder.

"O-oh!" he whirls around, "Sorry. I was a bit distracted. Was there something you wanted to ask me?" he pushes his glasses up his nose.

"Definitely. When countries got into wars or incidents, did it ever feel personal? Like, maybe the Cuban Missile Crisis?"

Uncomfortably, he motions for me to follow him outside. He sits on the memorial bench, dedicated to someone whose name has long since been worn away. "Well... it depended, I guess. The crisis was pretty painful to watch..." arms folded, he looks down, "The idiots! About to throw their lives away to prove a point!" Without thinking, I hand him a tissue to dry the tears. "Do you want this to go in my report?"

Silence overtook him, leaving him shocked at his own outburst. He nodded anyways. "But I suppose it's all for the best, now." I regret making him remember.

...

The soft murmur of a pond welcomes me into a warm, glass building. In here, a shorter man was tending a set of plants. "Kiku Honda?" I said. He turns and looks at me indignantly, and I'm mortified. "Oh, you must be Yong Soo..." Bitterly, he goes back to his activity.

"From behind you kind of look like him. S-sorry about that." A long silence follows. I leave.

...

She spent most of her time checking her watch, messing with her hair and staring at anyone but the one who was talking to her. I was walking on eggshells after my last encounter, being very careful not to upset. "Is there anything you wanted to ask?"

I paused. "If you could do anything before these six months were over, what would it be?"

And she smiles. "Much better: What will I not do? I'm going to have lots of fun. Everything from visit islands to pranking friends." Not sure if "pranking" is a word, but I didn't mind. "So much war and be invade - I can get the kind of excitement I want if only for a little bit."

"And what do you think of other former Nations?"

She slowed down, and focused on her English. I could sympathize, having visited Quebec with a tenuous grasp on French. "Depends. Some of them acted like a jerk to me in the past, but now that we can act like humans, it seems to be good. Still, it's a bit too much to ask to let go of all bitterness."

I'm reminded of Yong Soo.

...

Should I continue this?