Au Naturel Among the Stars
“The journey of your dreams – only with us,” proclaimed the slogan on the giant billboard. Curiously enough, it was not an ad of a travel agency but—for lack of a better way to put it—a funeral home and coffin retailer. Our protagonist, let’s call him Adam, intrigued by the advertisement, decided to see how the offer measured up to reality. He read the address of the shop—or rather the salon, according to the ad—and set out on a reconnaissance mission.
“Good morning to you, dear sir! What a joy it is to see you in our salon of the most magnificent dreams,” the employee greeted him the moment Adam, somewhat startled by such warmth and enthusiasm at the sight of his person, crossed the doors.
“Good morning. Very kind of you. Have we met somewhere before?” he asked, slightly thrown off. In truth, it was only while asking the question that he realized the phrase most magnificent dreams had been used, and he, as usual, had been focusing mainly on human interaction. Evidently, suspicion caused by excessive enthusiasm directed at him had somewhat overshadowed the content of the greeting.
“What significance could that possibly have? What significance does anything have in the face of eternity, for which we are uniquely qualified to prepare you better than anyone else in the world?” the employee replied with a smile stretching from ear to ear, revealing a row of snow-white teeth.
He really must love this job. Or he was a machine. But since his face wore an almost beatific expression, Adam ruled out the machine theory. Technology hadn’t advanced that far yet. It had to be a human being. The only question was whether he was a master salesman or a complete idiot.
“Forgive me for pressing the matter,” Adam continued, once again realizing he had ignored all the talk about eternity and resigning himself to solving these riddles with a slight delay, “but you mentioned something about magnificent dreams. Don’t misunderstand me, but… what exactly does that have to do with your offer? After all, speaking very broadly, you sell coffins.”
“Not at all, sir,” the salesman protested with theatrical offense. “A carpenter sells coffins. We sell dreams.”
Adam reflected that, up to now, he had never once dreamed about a coffin. Not even in his kinkiest dreams. Though perhaps his subconscious had repressed it. Which, frankly, would have been understandable. Still, he decided to probe further.
“What exactly do you mean by that?” he asked. “Dreams, fantasies… could you tell me more?”
“But of course, dear sir. That is precisely why I am here for. To help you pass into the realm of dreams, into eternity.”
“Easy now, let’s not rush things,” Adam objected. “I’m not planning on going there just yet. For the moment I merely wanted to ask about your offer, which—I admit—has intrigued me greatly.”
“My dear sir, I assure you that once you become acquainted with our products, you will be unable to resist the temptations of the comforts and delights they offer.”
“Comforts and delights… you sound like a preacher. But go on. Does your coffin grant me—if we are to stay on theme—eternal life?” he asked with some irony.
“Absolutely, dear sir. In the fullest sense of the phrase.”
“So you make armoured coffins, the kind that preserve my earthly remains for all eternity. That must be an expensive pleasure. Though that’s beside the point. Where exactly are the delights?”
“No, dear sir, there you are mistaken,” the employee interrupted him. “Quite the opposite, in fact. Earthly remains mean nothing in the face of eternity. Which means they are unnecessary. If you wish to experience the fulfillment of dreams, you must unite yourself with eternity, with the cosmos. An armoured coffin will not help you do that. We open you to the cosmos.”
“I wasn’t thinking about space travel. Well, perhaps as a child, yes. And even then, preferably while still alive. After death… I’ve never really thought about what comes after death. An interesting concept, though. Hibernation as the eternal guarantee of successful cosmic travel.”
Not a bad slogan for a space agency, Adam thought. Or an interstellar travel bureau.
“You see, irony is unnecessary,” the employee continued, entirely unfazed. “We are all particles of cosmic dust, children of the universe. Therefore we should unite with the cosmos, not shield ourselves from it. That is why our products are made exclusively from fully ecological, biodegradable materials. More than that, our commitment to the environment is so highly developed that we manufacture our products solely from recycled materials.”
“How can they be recycled? You can’t recycle wood back into wood.”
“And who said anything about wood? You weren’t listening. Before wood becomes wood, it is a tree, a living organism. Is it not monstrous to kill a living being merely to surround it with decaying remains of organic matter? Whereas we are concerned with a natural process, with reunification with nature, with remaining the dust of the universe.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” our hero asked, increasingly uncertain that he understood anything at all.
“I mean that our product is entirely, shall we say… au naturel.”
“Wood is natural.”
“Nevertheless, cellulose is not part of your organism,” the employee observed, quite correctly.
“If not wood, then what?”
“I already told you.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
“Au naturel. Without additions.”
“Additions of what?”
“I see this is difficult for you to absorb. Let us begin differently. Have you never dreamed of being part of the whole world? Of experiencing an act—indeed, a physical act of love—with the entire world, with every beautiful woman who has existed since the dawn of our species?” Here he looked more closely at our hero, leaned toward him, and added more quietly, with a smile as gentle as a kiss: “Or with boys. Whichever you prefer. These are your dreams. You are everywhere and nowhere,” he continued in his normal tone. “Totally lost in the whirl of the cosmos. You touch the past and the future. The cosmos touches you—always. And everywhere. Is that not an orgiastic vision of paradise? You are like light; you exist outside of time. You are the cosmos itself. And for that reason we have absolutely no intention of limiting your sensations, your contact with the spinning particles of the universe. And so we offer you this extraordinary voyage in a state of au naturel—that is, in your biological form.”
At this point the thought finally caught up with the words, and our hero asked the question prompted by the final statement:
“You mean… naked?”
“Of course, dear sir. Do we not enter this world naked? And what more, pray tell, could we possibly take from it? Absolutely nothing. And that is precisely the journey we offer. We alone on the market.”
“Wait a second—you mentioned recycled materials.”
“But dear sir, the particles and chemical compounds of which you are composed came into existence at the dawn of the universe itself. Whereas you, judging by appearances, are somewhat younger.”
“Well, true enough. Clever.”
“More than clever, sir. Genius. But that’s not all.”
“I’m all ears,” said our hero, because nothing else came to mind. He appeared somewhat dazed.
“You see, most providers limit their clients to some pathetic final and solitary place of so-called eternal rest. Two by two meters, perhaps less. Somewhere in a hole, a cellar or a crypt. We break with these outdated conventions. We offer the whole world. More than that, dear sir—we offer the entire universe.”
“I’m not sure I understand. Where exactly will my earthly, naked remains be buried?”
“At our galactic station on the road to eternity.”
“And without the metaphors?”
“Please look out the window. What do you see?”
“That depends where I look. On the left some dogs are copulating. And there’s a black tomcat licking himself in the tree.”
“As always, you impose limitations upon yourself—those petty bourgeois social patterns. Look broader. Further. Expand your horizon.”
“Well, as far as the horizon stretches… forgive me, but I can’t describe it any other way… there’s a garbage dump.”
“And once again: socially imposed conventions. Sir, that is a mixture of real life. Here life ends and begins simultaneously. It is like cosmic microwave background radiation—a proof of history, but also of a new beginning. A place where every particle begins its life, where they begin that extraordinary dance, that erotic act of creation. Here lies hidden energy and immense potential. And you shall become part of it. You shall become part of our earthly, and simultaneously galactic, cosmic microwave background radiation. You shall be a beginning. Your end shall be a beginning. You shall be Alpha and Omega. Equal to the gods. And that still is not all.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“One should never fear great questions. You see, upon this very site there shall arise a cosmodrome—a spaceport from which interstellar vessels shall launch, carrying you, as dust of the universe, back to the matrix. Which is to say: to the universe itself. The tremendous energy of the launching engines shall excite all your particles, the matter that once formed you, and lift it into the atmosphere, then higher and higher still, until you reach the cosmos. You shall become a traveller among the stars who, equal to the gods, shall roam the boundless universe—or universes—in an endless act of amorous creation. Is it not a beautiful vision?”
“Yeeees… you know, it’s actually starting to grow on me.”
“I am not surprised. I told you it was irresistible.”
“Before I stop resisting entirely, however, I would like to hear something about the financial terms of this offer.”
“Please don’t concern yourself. We have an instalment system perfectly tailored to each client’s individual needs and possibilities. Do you have children?”
“Yes. That has happened.”
“Excellent. That is the optimal option. We can offer repayment conditions covering both yourself and your children, which lowers the monthly instalments. And if you have grandchildren…”
“Not yet.”
“…no matter. Even without additional guarantors we can sign the agreement. And if you fear that your children, corrupted by modern fashions, may fail to produce offspring of their own, we can simply list a piece of real estate as collateral for repayment of our extraordinary service. A mere formality, nothing to worry about. Besides, with such a prospect ahead of you, what is there to fear at all? Eternal happiness awaits you. You were born under a lucky star.”
“Yeeees… except I’ll die au naturel.”
Because in life what matters is remaining true to oneself. Au naturel.
