PROLOGUE
I’m committing suicide. Tradition, therefore, demands I leave a note, even though no one on the planet will be left alive to read it.
The plan, hatched and executed over the course of countless generations, will finally flood the earth with fire, finishing the work that I began in antiquity. I will die, and so will everyone else. Of course, everyone else was going to die of something, eventually, anyway. Not me.
So consider this both a note and a receipt. Life on this planet began in a puddle of evolutionary goo billions of years ago. Let it now be recorded that it will end on an inauspicious Saturday night football game at an obscure high school in Topanga, California.
If a pair of human eyes ever sees this, then I congratulate you. You are a living testament to the fact that my plan has failed.
But you will still die eventually. So there’s that.
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