Death is a civic duty.
The State does not waste a citizen. Die, and the Bureau of Recurrence pulls your file, grows you a new body — new face, new strengths — and returns you to your life, your memories intact. They call it the Grace of Continuance — the State's mercy, its proof that no one is ever truly lost. You have never had cause to doubt the promise. You're about to. One death will go wrong — you'll wake too early, before the Bureau is finished, and see what the Recurrence is built to hide. This time, it won't take. The body is theirs to assign, life after life; what you remember is the one thing they are losing their grip on.