Duty in Death

It's empty. It seems to echo off the walls. It has no mass. It puts out no heat. But its presence, is.

This is the end of the simulation. This Is the end of what was. It is the end. There is the now, and it is a desolate existence. I died last night. I don't remember when. I don't remember feeling.

I feel the cardboard interactions. But I don't feel the warmth. It's not fair and it doesn't matter. It's not Justice but I am not a citizen. It is far from Christian values. But I am not a welcome Christian.

My desires are far from creation. But well known in the book of life. I wanted to live. But I died last night and this is the end of the simulation. The texture of skin, the heat of body temperature. The salty taste of sweat. The slick taste of saliva. I don't remember them. But yet I remember needing them.

No one will remember me. No one needed me. No one was true to me. No one will know that I died. And in the span of time that encompasses the life of a spark, it won't matter. No mortal life ever does. But the simulation was complex. It was life like. It was a dream. It is over.

What is my responsibility now? What is my duty? I died and my honor died with me last night. What am I responsible for today? What tasks am I called upon to accomplish when my true life has ended without life? Am I called upon to be villain? Am I called upon to be hero? Aren't these things for the living? How do I have a place in no place? What is the duty of the living dead?

I am chained to my dead avatar. He speaks for me. But his words echo. He is no more real then the people he interacts with. None of them are. So what is my duty? What am I called to do? I died last night.