Tower of Brahma. 62h. Hell is for children

I pry myself from inside the egg, peel electron layers free from the warm embrace of an alternate reality. The digital dream of my older self was now over, his spirit in the hands of the Prince of Lies, finally at his mercy.

I snap back to my body, the scorched park wide open and tangible all around me. The eggs still sit stacked in an open bit, vulnerable flesh and blood bobbing inside. They lie there, cut off from fantasy, their heartbeats thundering through them as never before.

The devil gives me a vision.

Anthropological devolving, mankind disappearing before my eyes, from meta-post-post-modern (MP2M) to neanderthal, primate/lizard division, amphibious single cell organisms, entwined tails, penis to anus, testes within womb. The balance is restored.

The atom spins wild, rollercoaster centrifuge, colliding on magnetic force field pulls. A vibrational superstring wobbling in the spaces between neutrons, eleven dimensions rippling in the cosmic wind. A freshly laundered sheet, flapping on a clothesline, spring in full bloom as the sun sets.

The end.

Sixty three lives simultaneously...suddenly, cease to exist as each body within each pod ignites with hellfire, scorching the individual inside into ashes in the blink of an eye. I hear a dull screech as the internet dies. The electronic age has become extinct.

I return to my body just as the devil draws me down into his realm.

A void of ash, wind scattered remnants of entire species whipping about us. Every sinner left is gone. All traces of human anatomy has been torched, all souls converted back into bio-electricity, siphoned back out into the fourth dimension.

He scoops up a handful of cinder, remains spilling over the sides of his long slender fingers, and raises his open palm to me. I know that this is me. What I become. My death, or rather the moment just beyond. My final judgment.

And I am to be the judge.