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Maybe when you die it’s like a file being deleted. You don’t cease to exist suddenly, you just disappear from the world to be gradually overwritten by history, swallowed by space. Maybe a ghost is just a deleted file, an empty space-suit roaming around the universe without the dictates of physics.What words of comfort would you lend me if one day, in some corner of the galaxy you encounter my lonely deleted soul floating about somnolently, drifting slowly as a thin and greying cloud, shivering like a thin old man in the wind, and sobbing, sobbing at my monumental loneliness? I hope you will remind me that it will only be a matter of time, yes only a matter of time until the oxygen-free wind of ones and zeros will infiltrate my spacesuit, out here in this infinite tapestry of ones and zeros. And I’ll be drowned out by the noise of galactic explosions, and the blinding colors of supernovas. Overwritten by this holographic universe, gone and forgotten forever. 

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