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An Intellection on the Post Mechanics of Death

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An Intellection on the Post Mechanics of Death

By: Gordon McWhorter
Narrated by: Gordon McWhorter
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About this listen

Hades: The alabaster streets are terribly empty, bare, and absent of any life or moving form.

"Hello? Where is everybody?" I speak, but the emptiness makes my voice even that much more alone. How can this be? Everyone dies, I surmise, don't we all return back home to take up again the art of eternity? Where is everyone hiding?

Billions of years! The cycle of to and fro, mortal schools of thought and reflections, to live anew, die, and come back alive. This cycle was not about to change now! Where the hell was everyone at? All of us have been doing this same exact thing for forever! Was it not just yesterday that we all arrived here from the Center of All Things? Was it not just yesterday we arrived here to establish a new home from our eternal parents? Did not God, the father, the mother of us all, thee all-knowing supermassive black hole being at the center of all things demand expansion?

Something was terribly wrong.

"Hello!" I repeat over and over again, running wildly through the empty white streets. "Anyone, please!"

I leave not a single corner unexplored, no building was left unsearched. The great coliseums of government were stripped clean, not even a crumb was left to weep over. Years, ancient, long count calendar years, escape my tireless search. I am consumed, until the end...when it becomes more than apparent that I must not, cannot, stay here.

There is a world where the sentient beings experience love and find their mates by a single touch of their left hands. Embedded in their left hands is a cortex extension of their cerebral nervous system. It extends down through the left arm into their palm and is completely inert until such time that they touch their DNA match for procreation. The left hands then entwine on contact with their cellular mates and they are then connected and inseparable for the space of two years, two months, and two days.

©2016 Gordon McWhorter (P)2016 Gordon McWhorter
First Contact Science Fiction Fiction
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