Philosophers and pundants alike always tell me the questions surrounding death are some of the biggest mysteries and most thought-provoking destinations all humans share because it is something we cannot escape. Will it be painful? How will I die? When is someone truly dead? Is there life after death? When will I die? etc. I would go so far as to say that the questions about death are so important that asking them is almost a non-issue. Let me explain. If you asked a resident living in London during the V2 rockets attacks if he or she thought a V2 rocket was going to land on their Grandfather's house in 30 seconds, what would he or she say? They would probably say that it was improbable. If you told them that a V2 rocket was, in-fact, going to land on his or her Grandfather's house in 30 seconds, does it improve their situation? Probably not. I would say they would be mad and angry at you as they heard the next V2 rocket impact London, knowing they are helpless in preventing it. Death is such a mysterious certainty that it barely bothers us because when we learn that we are in-fact, going to die, all we can say is "Yep, I knew that this was probably going to happen eventually. . . sigh." This leads to a side note: Most people know when they are going to die and by what circumstances they are going to die. A common falsity that many people share is that we will never know how we are going to die or when we are going to die. If I was driving a car across a bridge that suddenly gave out, sending me tumbling toward a section of particularly sharp rocks, I only need a half- second to determine that 1.) I am going to die, 2.) I am going to die in the next two-three seconds, and 3.) I will die because I was driving too fast through the air into a section of particularly sharp rocks. It only takes a second for the average human to determine such things.
When will I die? Adele, I would not be far from the truth if I told you you are probably going to die within 20 miles of your house next to your family. This is true for 95% of all humans. People die close to the things that they are most by, which happens to be the place where you live and the people you live with. But this is just silly statistics. You want to know what I know! I have been far from courteous making you read through all that mumbo-jumbo to finally enlighten all of you, my dedicated underlings, as to the true fate of Adele. I tell you that I know the future because I get the early copies of Sunday Newspapers. Dated August 4th, 2094 in the New York Times that you, Adele, die of a freak accident at the local Sperm Bank in Rochester, New York, when a storage tank's support beams buckled under structural stress, spilling 20,000 gallons of company product into the room, drowning the four occupants present. Adele, you perished along with your husband of 30 years, the receptionist, and a potential red-headed donor. I would like to add that you died only three miles way from your houses with your husband. I hope this brings you comfort.
-To my beautiful and immortal conspirators,
Bronson Whitmore
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