The only one that matters
So, I was thinking to myself, what’s up with this whole archetype deal? I mean, they’re all different aspects of humanity, and all that stuff. So what? I mean, if you really want to take it all the way out, everyone’s their own archetype, unless the cynics really are right and that we’re just recycling personalities and lives by this point in time in history.
But what if you go the other direction, I ask myself. I mean, if you work it backwards, all these archetypes have to come from somewhere. The archetype of Humanity, with a big fucking capital H, so to speak. It would be one hell of a trick to run, though. You’d have to literally be everyone rolled into one being. You’d have to embody everyone, at once, all day, every day. Be really fucking tough.
Think about the payoff, though. You could probably, look like anyone, sound like anyone, be anyone you want to be. Probably have all the skills, memories, powers, or whatever of anyone who ever lived or ever will live. You’d be immortal.
Then it hits me. The Comte. That’s him to a tee. Maybe that’s what he really is. Maybe that’s why, if you believe all that universal recycling garbage, he’s the last one to go. Because he’s it. He’s Humanity.
Ah, who knows. This is probably all bullshit anyway.
I don’t know. I’ve always thought humanity is always the first to go.
Chris.
Nah … we’re like cockroaches, there’s so damn many of us there’s always enough survivors for mass hysteria. Even after it’s all over, there’s gonna be one left to look out over the wreckage and say “screw this, I’m leaving.” By the time we re-emerge, everything’s so different we think it’s a whole freaking new universe. But we’re still here.