So I just realized that the stories will be ending as soon as they get back to their original owners, which is tomorrow, which makes me sad. Oh well here's the second-to-last chapter of Mandog's story.
"Life isn't always fair" my parents would tell me, well you don't even have to be living anymore to be screwed over; my name is Derrick Safferfrack, and I've been dead for five years now. I guess to learn about the situation I'm in I should probably tell you how I got where I am now. Back when I had my own body I was led an underwhelming life. I worked from nine to five, and my "hobby" was to sit on the computer every night wishing there was more to life. Twenty-seven years of doing the least possible and hoping for more and in one day I was wishing I could have all of that back.
"Life isn't always fair" my parents would tell me, well you don't even have to be living anymore to be screwed over; my name is Derrick Safferfrack, and I've been dead for five years now. I guess to learn about the situation I'm in I should probably tell you how I got where I am now. Back when I had my own body I was led an underwhelming life. I worked from nine to five, and my "hobby" was to sit on the computer every night wishing there was more to life. Twenty-seven years of doing the least possible and hoping for more and in one day I was wishing I could have all of that back.
It was Autumn. And Thursday. I hated Thursdays. And honestly I hated Autumn. It was the calm before winter and the cool after the summer months. It was so... bland. It reminded me of myself. And I hated it for that. So on this particular Thursday, there was an accident. No I wasn't involved, but it would still change my life. Chilesia. That was her name and she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Or at least at Aunt Jemima High. I taught there, as she was a TA working on her teaching degree. She has the most lovely ebony skin and perfect hair. I loved her the day I met her. So the accident. One day while I worked at my computer (I spent most of my time playing Galaxy of Space Quest, even at work) I heard an explosion outside. It was Chilesia.... oh god.... Little did I know, that following this tragedy in less than 24 hours would be my own death....
Death itself was quick and uneventful by large; it was the afterward that I was unprepared for. You imagine heaven and hell, but it's something so grand by comparison there is no way to describe it. I was in what appeared to be a large and infinite warehouse, it was completely empty aside from the other dozen or so people near enough to see. The others were walking all in the same direction, almost as if they had somewhere they needed to go. I tried to walk over to the nearest. A woman--Chilesia! she would be here somewhere--but as I attempted to draw closer I was stopped. My mind flooded with the command and my body tensed. That's when I first met one of the Custodians. It appeared from the unending ceiling and it was a hovering robotic creation at seemed to be humanoid only it ended at the waist. It was holding a tablet or pad of sorts.
"You have been processed. Disturbance of the others cannot be tolerated. Return to your directive."
"No. Dammit! I have not been 'processed.' What's going on here?"
The bot slowed and swung back around to look at me. It looked from me to his pad and then back to me, before pecking at the pad's surface.
"I am un-qualified to assess this. I am afraid that you do not exist."
There's something about that phrase, "you do not exist". You'd think, if someone didn't exist no one would waste their time telling them they don't exist; there would be no one to tell. Yet here it floated saying the exact phrase and here I stood baffled.
"I'm sorry, something doesn't add up here. I think you said I don't exist but tha--"
"You do not exist."
"How is that possible?"
"When man was given upgrade number 5974a, it included a soul that provided benefits such as enhanced toolmaking, verbal interface, and heightened critical analysis, among others; it was 75% more efficient. The new soul was more resource intensive than we would have liked and unfortunately we have not yet developed the hardware to keep up. As a result the functional period of the body was shortened, it became weaker, less durable and began to grow significantly less hair, while the soul was able to last billions of years longer."
"What does this have to do with me not existing?"
"Well, after this was discovered, a system was made to sort, monitor and regulate soul installation. This process, however is not 100% efficient, some souls, like you tend to accidentally slip into circulation without any serial numbers or records and for all intents and purposes don't exist. It happens approximately 4 or 5 times a millennium. You can tell by the size of the building this used to happen with much more frequency," That must have been the robot's idea of a joke "These souls can only be located after their bodies stop working and this facility has been constructed to sort, dismantle, recycle, and recirculate you all as properly documented souls."
It was scary at first, the though of my soul being taken apart and having those parts be used to make other souls with legitimate serial numbers, and how I would never be me again, but then I considered my life, how it had been and maybe being recycled was the best way to go.
Then it got scary again so I decided to escape.
There's something about that phrase, "you do not exist". You'd think, if someone didn't exist no one would waste their time telling them they don't exist; there would be no one to tell. Yet here it floated saying the exact phrase and here I stood baffled.
"I'm sorry, something doesn't add up here. I think you said I don't exist but tha--"
"You do not exist."
"How is that possible?"
"When man was given upgrade number 5974a, it included a soul that provided benefits such as enhanced toolmaking, verbal interface, and heightened critical analysis, among others; it was 75% more efficient. The new soul was more resource intensive than we would have liked and unfortunately we have not yet developed the hardware to keep up. As a result the functional period of the body was shortened, it became weaker, less durable and began to grow significantly less hair, while the soul was able to last billions of years longer."
"What does this have to do with me not existing?"
"Well, after this was discovered, a system was made to sort, monitor and regulate soul installation. This process, however is not 100% efficient, some souls, like you tend to accidentally slip into circulation without any serial numbers or records and for all intents and purposes don't exist. It happens approximately 4 or 5 times a millennium. You can tell by the size of the building this used to happen with much more frequency," That must have been the robot's idea of a joke "These souls can only be located after their bodies stop working and this facility has been constructed to sort, dismantle, recycle, and recirculate you all as properly documented souls."
It was scary at first, the though of my soul being taken apart and having those parts be used to make other souls with legitimate serial numbers, and how I would never be me again, but then I considered my life, how it had been and maybe being recycled was the best way to go.
Then it got scary again so I decided to escape.
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