Immortality or Bust

Sigh. Scream. Cry. Maybe wordlessly, certainly breathlessly. My jaw is locked, my lungs crunched up like paper bags. My fingers dropped off one by one. By rights, my brain should have shut down too.

And yet it moves.

Matter in motion. And a universe with a thought is a universe with energy. A spark between neurons, the culmination of a rumination. By some tiny fraction of the whisp of a joule, it warms my skull.

And there it is, another thought! And another! "Talk, talk!" I say to myself, and sure enough, I do. Daydreams, memories, thoughts, reactions; the connections lit by St Elmo's fire.

I think, therefore that thought is. And that thought is data, stored and communicated by energy. What is immortality if not a perpetual motion machine? Think hard enough, and an immortal being can reverse even entrophy.

All it takes is enough lightning in the mind, enough neutrons firing, enough electricity arcing through my central nervous system.

Let there be light.