Prologue: The Ramblings of A Previously Frozen Man
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Of Radioactivity And Philosophical Physicists
Prologue: The Ramblings of A Previously Frozen Man
Every sentient being faces death. It doesn’t matter how long you have to wait. It comes for us all. Some run. Some accept it. Some don’t even realize this fact. The ones that don’t realize this fact are called Immortals.
Even forever must end. But so does the ending.
Now that we’ve got that somewhat well known fact out of the way, let us get to the exponentially more scary, difficult to understand, and overall confusing part of death. The after.
Most sentient beings are scared of what comes AFTER death. Not death itself. Some beings go to ridiculous lengths to avoid it.
Nothing to be afraid of. Oblivion doesn’t last long. Reincarnation is surprisingly simple. Religion is to prepare you for your perception of the afterlife.
The funny thing is that if you believe you’re going to forget, then you do. Belief shapes everything. Hope too. If you hope you get into a certain world, then it works.
In the end, sentient beings are all in a sense immortal. Their essence is eternal and everchanging. Sometimes it looks like it hasn’t changed, but that’s because you simply didn’t wait long enough.
The closest I can explain from my brief understanding are these laws.
Oblivion is not forever.
Essence is eternal.
Change is law.
That’s it.
The other rules are more… guidelines.
Most beings go into either reincarnation or oblivion. Heaven in itself is a form of reincarnation.
I did not reincarnate. That would imply me forgetting everything which I did not. And it also implies me getting an entirely new life. Which technically I did if life is lifestyle. I actually meant body.
I got a slightly used one which was slightly used by myself, so not so bad. With one itty bitty backside deal. And numerous handy upgrades. And a supposedly irrevocable contract that I have never actually tried to break. Nor plan to. It’s quite a good one.
Thus ends the speculation on the afterlife and begins the continuing speculation on the strangeness of life.
The strangeness of life is what some famous guy once said, Fact is stranger than fiction.
Explanation for this is that fiction has to be believable for people to follow. Fact which is reality has no such qualms… unless it is a fiction being written by some other higher dimension being whose audience which may be itself, to be gender neutral, and whose fiction is stranger than ours.
Wonder how that works? Wasn’t there some sort of term for this? I’m just going to call it a paradox.
So life is strange whereas fiction is less so strange.
Why do so many complain of it being boring? No idea. I was one of them. Now it’s a tad bit too exciting.
Case in point?
The current plane of dimension I’m in and insofar do not seem to be leaving.
Insofar. I like saying that. Makes me sound sophisicated.
As I was saying, the current plane of dimension is a fiction. A strange one where it contorts another fictional place and makes it much stranger. Otherwise known as fanfiction.
The Equestrian Wasteland.
Highly depressing I know.
Sounds like a horrible fanfiction of a fanfiction of a fictional story that has been remade at least four times last I checked.
I digress way too much.
How did I get there?
Wishes.
Be careful what you wish for tells you to always have a good lawyer and an iron clad phrasing to make sure no loopholes are found.
In all actuality, I have no idea. It was a wish of mine to go to Equestria. Not so much a wish as a fact of life.
So annoying how that happens.
I sound calm for talking about being in a post apocalyptic wasteland.. In all actuality, I’m probably traumatized to the point of calm. Either way I’m still calm. It’s how I got there that would deem me worthy of several therapy sessions that would not help, probably.
All of this has been covered.
And so this brings me to the end of the end.
Also known as a beginning due to double cancellation or two negatives make a positive.
The beginning of a story.
Of memories lost.
Of memories found.
Of life.
Of death.
Of strange things.
Of wonderful things.
Of sadness.
Of happiness.
Of woe.
Of fortune.
Of foes.
Of families.
Of some guy who is still trying to sound sage-like and failing miserably so.
He must be doing something right if he’s talking right now and somebody out there is reading it, eh, don’t you think so?