The Egg by Andy Weir

This is not an original piece, but I loved it when I read it, so thought I should share it with           my readers too. Enjoy! 

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that�s when you met me.

�What� what happened?� You asked. �Where am I?�

�You died,� I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

�There was a� a truck and it was skidding��

�Yup,� I said.

�I� I died?�

�Yup. But don�t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,� I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. �What is this place?� You asked. �Is this the afterlife?�

�More or less,� I said.

�Are you god?� You asked.

�Yup,� I replied. �I�m God.�

�My kids� my wife,� you said.

�What about them?�

�Will they be all right?�

�That�s what I like to see,� I said. �You just died and your main concern is for your family. That�s good stuff right there.�

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn�t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

�Don�t worry,� I said. �They�ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn�t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it�s any consolation, she�ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.�

�Oh,� you said. �So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?�

�Neither,� I said. �You�ll be reincarnated.�

�Ah,� you said. �So the Hindus were right,�

�All religions are right in their own way,� I said. �Walk with me.�

You followed along as we strode through the void. �Where are we going?�

�Nowhere in particular,� I said. �It�s just nice to walk while we talk.�

�So what�s the point, then?� You asked. �When I get reborn, I�ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won�t matter.�

�Not so!� I said. �You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don�t remember them right now.�

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. �Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It�s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it�s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you�ve gained all the experiences it had.

�You�ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven�t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you�d start remembering everything. But there�s no point to doing that between each life.�

�How many times have I been reincarnated, then?�

�Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.� I said. �This time around, you�ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.�

�Wait, what?� You stammered. �You�re sending me back in time?�

�Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.�

�Where you come from?� You said.

�Oh sure,� I explained �I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you�ll want to know what it�s like there, but honestly you wouldn�t understand.�

�Oh,� you said, a little let down. �But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.�

�Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don�t even know it�s happening.�

�So what�s the point of it all?�

�Seriously?� I asked. �Seriously? You�re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn�t that a little stereotypical?�

�Well it�s a reasonable question,� you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. �The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.�

�You mean mankind? You want us to mature?�

�No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.�

�Just me? What about everyone else?�

�There is no one else,� I said. �In this universe, there�s just you and me.�

You stared blankly at me. �But all the people on earth��

�All you. Different incarnations of you.�

�Wait. I�m everyone!?�

�Now you�re getting it,� I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

�I�m every human being who ever lived?�

�Or who will ever live, yes.�

�I�m Abraham Lincoln?�

�And you�re John Wilkes Booth, too,� I added.

�I�m Hitler?� You said, appalled.

�And you�re the millions he killed.�

�I�m Jesus?�

�And you�re everyone who followed him.�

You fell silent.

�Every time you victimized someone,� I said, �you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you�ve done, you�ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.�

You thought for a long time.

�Why?� You asked me. �Why do all this?�

�Because someday, you will become like me. Because that�s what you are. You�re one of my kind. You�re my child.�

�Whoa,� you said, incredulous. �You mean I�m a god?�

�No. Not yet. You�re a fetus. You�re still growing. Once you�ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.�

�So the whole universe,� you said, �it�s just��

�An egg.� I answered. �Now it�s time for you to move on to your next life.�

And I sent you on your way.