So if some Alpha gives you 80% chance of living the rest of your life in a state of your current happiness multiplied by 10^10. But, says there is a 20% chance that you will die right now if you happen to fail the 80% chance, which is decided by a totally fair random experiment.

Then about your preferences—what if I say there are 1000 more people that can be saved but you have to give up your resources? Or say, there is a perfectly happy set of people living on a planet, and somebody wants to add few more people (who will definitely decrease the happiness quotient of earth) to earth, would you agree?

Why is death sacred? It should be contemptible according to me. I don’t know why there are so many rituals attached to death. People will celebrate death. “You take me for granted, isn’t it? That is why I like to be sudden; I usually don’t tell you when I am going to happen to you. But that is not fair, you should. Why not, you never give me any value, you loathe me in fact”.

In a surreptitious world from where deaths on earth are evaluated, Death King has forces spread across all over the world– the health department, the murder department, the terrorism department, who are doing really well. There are crazy deaths departments, for e.g. when people just die while watching some good comedy, while having washing clothes, while pooping, while watching a high tense sport, etc.

A  General, biennial meeting concluded that health is a major cause of concern:

“President Obama is not doing well”.

“And what about this new health reform crap? We always banked on immigrants to make up for end of season profits”

“Yes, he aint of any help,

“Government backed insurance!! Can you believe it?

“These people have invented something called computers, and they keep staring at it all the time in the night, murder department is in really bad shape”

How many of the beautiful compositions of Bach and those ephemeral yet immortal paintings of Michael Angelo were bi-products; requiems and tears squirted randomly over canvass?

Walking into the graveyard at 2AM in the night, I don’t know if I should believe scientology or not, I can tell you one thing, at that particular moment, I wish that nobody would be alive and I could walk back home confirming that I have confirmed science for myself, and inside me, I know I have avoided what would have been a endless confrontation with myself. But I was out there to seek something new, wasn’t I?

There is an option here, we can reason death to leave us alone for sometime, and death-master sets no rules for why and when he can/will delay the death of a certain person.

Death: So why not today?

“I just don’t feel this is the right time”

Death: How about Monday after a nice weekend?

“Is Tuesday fine? I usually drink on Monday mornings”

Death: Sounds reasonable, granted!!

I wish death would haunt us every now and then, scare us and remind us that we are not going to live that long; are you still looking for reasons to live life while it is still yours?

Death believes that bodies should be burnt or buried so that insects can feed upon them, it somehow got people to perform such things, and it chose the actions in such a way that people wouldn’t have any problem in believing what they are choosing; well only 39 percent of people, still, believe that Charles Darwin is right, so it might not have been too difficult for death to even trade with people by offering them heaven slots.

Death comes by working on a priority based list, so we have to acquire skills which would take us outside the death circle, but what do you do about things like beauty? Or art, death has an affinity for such people, he is going to get you, sorry for the gender bias, women are too sweet to kill anyone, aren’t they?

I aint one of those who believe there is beauty in everything. What happens to the soul, like they all say, does it really live forever?– who is in charge of collecting those “things”? I remember people crying, willowing Grrr, sniff, argh, Chronicle, what is the news man, I can’t believe my eyes, I am finally going to get a promotion and the paper says that I am about to die next month, Damn I wish it had been delayed by a day.

I was staring at Gmail Inbox(1), looking for something, trying to CC a death letter to somebody, I wish Jim Morrison had done that, I don’t believe in the letter that they are circulating. Deliver earth’s angels to heaven? Not a good acronym sorry, I know you hate them, but you have failed the “death-in-your-bed” test.

Why not? What is good about life anyway, you seem to be waiting for me to happen?

Sometimes I am in a mood to just climb down the stairs; I wish the steps don’t last forever for me to step down. I kind of feel sad that they are getting over; I feel I am approaching the end. So, what gives?

Death, if it hadn’t been such a simple process—simple? Had there been some heavy drama attached to the process, epilogue of the drama, which takes a new turn every living moment, just to signal the end of what is really neither a drama which was neither scripted nor a chance— what would have happened then? Just knowing the end, does it make death any better? Would I be fascinated by the sight of it, what does it look like? Really a person, a higher commission that I was referring to or something that itself has experienced death and is now called soulless soul? That is exactly what Alpha is asking you, what are you going to choose my child? Too many questions left unanswered, so do you want some more time? Or would you still pursue life imagining it to be a platform for showing (death, when it arrives) the creative endeavors of life? Would our garden variety fears give way to enthusiastic, rational, lowbrow, voices of your Snake brain? Death seems to be a design redundancy, a circular discussion, something that the creators (of and not of Darwin) decided to let it hang out with life. Like we expect things from life, why don’t we expect at least few things from death—oh, yes, I forgot, we all want a lame, as lame as it can get, a shameful and painless one, an event, which should not deserve anything for what it has waited for all this life?

I still remember you death, even though I never pondered you over like the way I have should. When I had seen you that day, when you came to me, out there, smiling over the porch swing, I didn’t feel like you are out there to take me with you, I still remember those last moments of life—ecstasy—because I knew that they were the last, the last moments of cold mist in a long night, the moments that would just become water over a flower, a flower, which doesn’t need much water because it has got spines.

And I whiffed passed another speed breaker; I swayed like a pro-biker, sneaking at my death bed all the time, feeling really sleepy, just waiting to bike through the extra mile. And so I saw it—“Why do you take so much time? It was just around the corner, it is round the corner for every one of you, I don’t understand why you make it so much hard when it is so simple. All you had to do was ride in the middle of the road, but all you damn you all, you always want to keep left or right”. I am not dreaming, not dreaming inside a dream, not dreaming inside a dream inside a dream, not even dreaming inside a dream inside a dream inside a dream—No really, I really must make this clear, I am not dreaming inside a dream inside a dream inside a dream.

Although most of us like to dwell in the past and the future, I guess nobody would appreciate a definitive window for death; we don’t like full stops.

So, the Alpha asks again—“What about 99 % chance of living as…..and in turn just 1% chance of death?” What about your preferences? Would you accommodate more?

Death in a way is a kind entity. Even though we don’t stop by at its place, it does that for us. Even though I am not alive now, death still has allowed me to write this draft and allowed me to use the special Wi-fi built for communicating from here to earth. Even though people reading this will feel I am alive, but I am not, they just don’t know that that death is kind, just enough. I had put-pocketed a note into a friend, I told him not to disclose my non-existence to anyone. So he agreed, death worked out a deal, my friend is continuing my life, taking care of life for me.

So the Alpha follows me here—“would you trade life for death? 99.9% chance that you will remain a soul, just 1% chance that you will become soul-less again”

I asked him, “is there any other death waiting for me?”