Will it hurt?

Will what hurt?

Dying. Will it hurt?

How should I know? I don’t remember dying.

I’m afraid.

Of what? Dying?

Yes. I am scared it will hurt, and that it will hurt forever.

What do you mean, “forever?” You mean like Hell?

I don’t think so, no. Not a place. Just that, well, my entire understanding of time is rooted somehow to my brain. That much seems clear to me. But my brain will die and with it that understanding of time. What if I am in pain in the moments during which whatever part of my brain transitions from “alive” to “dead?” Wouldn’t that pain be forever?

I haven’t the slightest idea. I can’t be bothered by that, though. I have my own problems.

What could bother you?

There are far worse things than dying. Being dead is worse, but there are things even worse than that. I am headed in the direction of one of those things.

What is it?

It’s a secret.

Secret? Who am I going to tell?

I don’t know. I don’t know who you know.

Know? There’s no one else but the two of us.

Are you sure?

Yes, and that is why I am afraid.