I wrote a short story
— Mr. Generic, you are dying
Dr. White, a white man with white hair, was breaking the news to a patient: a white man in his thirties.
— But I feel fine! It can’t be, doctor!
— I’m afraid so. It’s a very rare disease and you can do everything you could do before, so you can continue your story without it looking like you’re sick…
Dr. White looks away, then continues to deliver his sad news: “But you are dying, so that the reader will be attached to you.”
— But there must be a cure for this mysterious generic disease, doctor?
— Indeed, there is this ancestral plant that has the power to cure this very rare disease.
— Tell me where I can find it, I will do everything I can to get there, doctor!
— Unfortunately, this plant is extinct. Our ancestors cut them all, down to the last one. Mr. Generic, you are going to die.