I know that some time has passed by when someone comes back, and it would make no sense to put my body in a fridge just to take it off right away. There’s no way to know exactly how long it has been, eternity prevents that from happening, but there are evident signs that time didn’t stop, even if you don’t have tools to check.
They take my body through corridors that go down to earth. I think they might return to the podium, but that would make no sense. The truth is I know what they’ll do, I’m just afraid to think about it. I go into a room with a giant machine (I think machine is what it’s called). They dress me and put me back in the coffin, and the coffin goes into the machine. I smell burn and soot everywhere. I knew what they were about to do to me, I knew what that machine was for. I was inside a furnace, I was about to be cremated.
I’ve always wanted to be cremated, it made no sense to take space after I was dead. It also made no sense to force people to leave their homes to visit my body. I knew no one would do that, I had no intention of having a wife, kids, nothing of the kind. Even so I thought it made no sense to make someone leave their homes to visit my body, even though I knew there was no one to visit me. But I had accelerated my end, and was glad I had always made really clear what I wanted to happen to my body. I would be turned into dust.
I would be turned into dust by flames hotter than two thousand degrees.
I felt scared. I knew I was dead, knew there was no way I could feel the heat of the flames. But I was scared anyway. I tried to scream, to tell people I was there, that there was life after death and that my spirit was, again, tied to my body. Of course, no one listened. All I could do was scream more, cry, kick around.
A question popped into my mind: why am I tied to my body?
Only one answer seemed possible, and it was confirmed as soon as the furnace was turned on.