The Egg – A short story of life and death.

I normally don’t publish others’ work, but this short story brought tears to my eyes. I hope it does the same to you.

By: Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

What if reality and dreams are reversed?

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Just a question to all out there. I was sitting here earlier, and thinking to myself. What if when you die, you wake up? This took me to another question I pondered. What if the reality that you live is a dream, and when you sleep, and go into your dreams, that is the real reality of your being?

That is to say, we “wake up” every morning, from our sleep, and dreams to our “reality”. But what if this “reality” is actually a dream, fictitious, not real. So we wake up, live our mundane lives, do our mundane jobs, and tasks. When we go back to bed, and drift into sleep, and begin our “dreams” – that, those dreams are our lives – we just don’t remember when we come back into our “reality” what we “dreamt/lived”. Kind of like how it is hard to remember your dreams.

Does this make sense to anyone?

Why we make everything a conspiracy

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I was recently watching a few videos on Alex Jones and his info wars, after my jump down the youtube rabbit hole, I was knee deep in Alex Jones and info wars videos for about an hour. Don’t get me wrong, these shows are absolutely entertaining. I am not well versed in Alex Jones and his info wars, but I have heard the term and names thrown around over the many years, over the internet, and through some common relatable interests.

Well, after I began to get much more into these videos, I started asking one simple question – “Why is there a conspiracy behind everything?” I asked this because, as I continued to watch, even the most mundane, sometimes irrelevant to the world, and just obscure or wrong issues, were pinned to be a conspiracy – that there must be some other hidden truth behind what has happened. Now, I’m really not sure, but a lot of his videos, do seem to me, primarily for entertainment purposes, that is to say, he is literally creating a shit storm, just to get some views, or exposure – this can’t be denied.

So the question is, is there a conspiracy behind every unknown or un-sure phenomenon or happening? No.

No because sometimes stuff just happens, and there isn’t a need to pin a conspiracy or hidden agenda behind every single thing. Can a devastation happen WITHOUT us thinking there is a global agenda behind it? Sure it can. But can it also happen, where there IS a global agenda behind it? It can as well. The point being, not everything NEEDS a conspiracy behind it.

But why do we do it? I myself, love conspiracy. It is a facet of the human mind, to delve deeper into the unknown, an imaginative creation and solution to things possible. But, why is there this urge to fill conspiracy where there may not be any? I believe it may be due to the fact that, we as humans, need to feel, that there is still a form of control over whatever happens of our world. To make it more simplistic to understand, when an event happens, and there is really no reason behind it, or it may seem random, or out of place, it leaves our emotions in an upheaval, because we don’t like randomness. Our logical minds may want an answer to this story, and conspiracy does a damn great job in creating an imagination for that answer. Once this is rooted, a conspiracy behind something unknown is great, because it gives the public a “logical” explanation of why and how it happened.