Godspeed

Please analyze the following part of Last Words, the famous piece of text that was translated from the last recording ever made by the human species.

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Let me tell ya, I’ve always imagined what it would be like to be completely alone. Like completely alone, not just alone as in single or something. I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like if everyone on Earth just disappeared. What I would do. Where I would go. Sometimes during the day, usually at work, I would imagine what it would be like if the people around me were gone, and it was all just empty. How calming that would be. You know, I read some Reddit articles on this, and I think the first thing I would do if everybody disappeared is to download all of Wikipedia, all 50 or something gigabytes of it. I’ve also read somewhere that gasoline expires in a year or two, so I would drive around while I still can. I’ve thought about this a lot, I think I would know what to do. I would take all the canned foods I could possibly find and shove them in the back of my car. I would adopt pets, lots of ‘em. I would steal those home electricity generators from Home Depot, learn how to farm, then break into a nice house and live there. Actually, maybe I would try to travel as much as I could. Who knows. Maybe I would try to document the entirety of humanity so if future civilizations or aliens ever find our ruins they would know something about us. Or maybe I would do it as a puzzle and leave clues everywhere. I really like the idea of being the only person in the whole world, just roaming the streets, getting to really look at everything. Like inspect all the items in shops and shit. The quietness. It would be amazing.

I’ve also had lots of daydreams where I’m in a spacesuit, but it’s slowly running out of oxygen, and I’m floating away from Earth. It’s really calming. I don’t think I would cry. Strangely, I don’t think I would be sad at all. I would really like that to happen, actually. Be away from everyone. From everything. Ha, no more politics, am I right? Don’t need to worry about all my little daily life troubles anymore. Suddenly my life seems so insignificant, you know? And somehow it calms me down. The idea of finally being gone. Watching Earth become smaller and smaller as I slowly suffocate.

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No, no, you got it all wrong. I don’t want to kill myself. Frankly, even if I wanted to, I’m too afraid of pain, and I’m too much of a pussy to actually do it. Listen, right now I’m still just going to live my life and wait. My cats are still alive at home, man. But I wouldn’t mind just disappearing. I think about walking across the street and just blinking out of existence all the time. Don’t tell me you don’t think it would be kinda nice.

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You know, I think we’ll all just be shell accounts on the internet at some point and our screen names will have outlived us. What if it was the only record of our existence, just floating in the virtual cloud? It’s kind of like we’ll all eventually become the trash we are destined to become anyway. Ha, I am no longer afraid of losing it all to the Great Erasing, I’ll be sitting at the bottom of your recycling bin waiting to be emptied.

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Dude, chill out, we were all meant to die anyways. Don’t act all surprised. Why not just spend the time before your die relaxing, right? Hey, it’s okay bud. I’m right here. Yeah, I feel ya.

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Well ya better just spit it out now, we’re the only people left here, how ‘bout ya just tell me.

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That makes sense. If I had a second chance, even though I’m far less quarrelsome now, I would turn out exactly the same. Just go all self destructive bacchanalian again. Going down and down, and round, oh, round and about in this self indulgency, and I’d still hate myself, then make satire about it and laugh at myself through seven layers of irony. I’d be consume by depravity and numbness, then complain about how my shit is not just magically getting together. Socrates died in the fucking gutter, yeah? It’s all just a teasing nod to your intelligence, knowing that you’ll end up in the deep depths of a fucking trash heap. Philosophize absolutely nothing over everything, then smoke a joint and say “oh, what a time to be alive”. Ha, oh what a time to be alive. Sorry, I’m just ranting at ya.

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What’d I do? Ha, I’m a developer. In fact, I’m so good at developing that I developed a superiority complex and imposter syndrome at the same time. What ‘bout you?

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Man, that’s fucking awesome. I wish when I was back there I did what you did. That’s so fucking cool. Must’ve had a great time, yeah? Oh, you had a wife?

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Uh, no, I uh, don’t swing that way. No you’re fine, haha. Was she pretty? Ooh boy, you must miss her. I’m sure you do, yeah. I wish I had a lover, man, just someone to hold at night. I mean, not even that, I just wish I had someone to talk to and would appreciate me. It’s like it always felt like the world is so full, like there’s so many people, yet I’m still so alone. It’s not that I’m anti-social. I mean, sure, I wasn't super popular or anything, but it’s strange how I didn’t really have people to hang out with. Maybe I didn’t try enough or I’m weird to others or something. But I’m pretty average, right? I’m just your normal guy here, yet somehow all the other normal guys all got their friend groups and partners to go to the bar with. I’m just unlucky, man. The coin toss just wasn’t a good one on me.

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Hey man, you still there?

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Dude, did you disconnect? We’ve only been talking for a few minutes.

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Hello?

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I can’t hear you man.

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Oh well. Fucking hell man, what am I going to do now.

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Dude, please come back.

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Fuck.

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Sometimes I think we’re all just made of mud.

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Like mudmen.

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Oh, some days you’re the mudman, some days you’re the swamp.

But you can never, ever, live your life as you are a separate being from the earth you walk on.

We’re all mudmen.

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As our bodies become the echo chamber of our pain, as the moisture drips down rolling onto the ground, we are dirt if we are not wet, every day we go extraordinary lengths to maintain the wet. If we dry, the soul gets sucked out of our bodies like having the sweet marrow sucked out of life, then we crumble like sand, we crumble like dust in the wind. Perhaps it’s a losing battle. Every victory is hidden and every scream is just a small invisible cry to the condescending public eye, and the words kill and the needles sting, it’s a galloping horse we were never ready to ride. And even as we scatter, as we become dirt and grime, we are always stuck on the face of this world, encaged, teeth bite and nails scratch, yet we are still mudmen, slow, slimy mudmen, dragging trails along the paths we walk, repulsive, repulsive mudmen, we are mud, we are mud, we are mud, the flecks of dirt in a melting sky.

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I just made a beautiful poem, man. Please come back online.

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Seriously man, if this is some prank, it’s not funny. We’re literally being slowly sucked into a black hole in our stupid little maintenance pods right now. God fucking damn-it, I really wish I didn’t have to die like this.

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Please mate. I’m not letting that hungry fucker eat me up alone.

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Please.

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Fuck.

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Godspeed, I guess. Wherever you are.

I’ll see you on the other side, man.

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