by Amy Cross
***
No-one comes to move him.
For the first few hours, the television continues to fill the room with light and sound. Eventually, however, the signal is abruptly cut and the screen goes dark. There's still noise from the city, but this too fades over time and eventually it's as if the whole world has fallen completely silent. Later, there's the brief sound of rain against the window, but this doesn't last too long.
Silence.
Joseph's body remains absolutely still. He's on the bed, with sheets covering him all the way up to his chest. His dead face stares up at the ceiling, as if he was expecting something to appear above him as he died. There's still a faint grin on his face, but his eyes are dead and his body has started to stiffen. Already, his eyes appear to have sunk deeper into the sockets, and the skin on his face looks tighter. Deep inside his torso, the process of decomposition has begun. He's the first, but not by much; soon, billions of people all over the world are going to follow him into death, but there's one crucial difference.
For Joseph, this is only the beginning. This is the moment when everything starts again, and soon the whole world is going to be remade in his image. Even as he drew his last breath, Joseph was absolutely certain that he would rise again in billions of new bodies, his conscious mine shattered and poured into all those new souls.
On the far side of the room, sets of notebooks are piled on top of a small desk. These are the notebooks that contain all his plans. If everything works out as he expected, the world is about to enter a period of necessary darkness that will pave the way for an eventual explosion of light. Joseph took a risk, and part of that risk involved his own death, but he was convinced - even up to the very last second - that the pain and misery would be worth every second. He knew that he simply had to get through these final moments and embrace the darkness, and he knew that there would be something else waiting for him on the other side. Something triumphant. Something beautiful and spiritual and real. He knew that he would wake up again one day. One day soon.
But not in this body.
This body, the original - the prime - is useless. In a way, it always had to end this way. By the time his body has fulled rotted away, however, he hopes to be back in the world.
His world.
