Man considered with himself, for in a way, Man, mentally, was one. He consisted of a trillion, trillion, trillion ageless bodies, each in its place, each resting quiet and incorruptible, each cared for by perfect automatons, equally incorruptible, while the minds of all the bodies freely melted one into the other, indistinguishable.
Man said, "The Universe is dying."
And here I am, listening to my parents arguing in their room, listening to my brother watching TV outside, listening to my sister watching YouTube videos inside, revisiting an Asimovian short story I first read when I was a little girl. I can't remember how little I was. Surely not older than fourteen.
I can't believe the opportunity I've been presented with here, a possibility that arrests me for hours in the car and on the bus and just recently has got me sketching on the ruins of my Math Port rough work. I can't believe that I'm going to revisit this story in the way I'm going to, with so many passionate and talented people if it all works out, and maybe just a few if it doesn't.
I don't know, but I've got so many ideas now and it's so incredibly exciting. I wonder how many of you have already guessed what on earth I'm talking about. I hope I've been vague enough. Stay tuned, I suppose.