— Hey…
— Hi.
— Let me ask you something.
— Sure, what’s up?
— Do you feel any different right now? In this moment?
— Not really, why?
— I’m just curious, because…you see…well, nevermind that. You really don’t feel funny in any way? Lighter, maybe? Any old memories popping up from your past? What were you thinking about before our paths crossed?
— I’m feeling pretty normal. I’m good actually. I’m actually on my way…
— Ok, forget how you feel now. What about what you were thinking of before I stopped you.
— Look man, if you’re on drugs, that’s cool, I think you just need to chill for a moment. You look a little frazzled…
— I need you to tell me what the fuck you were thinking about.
— The fuck’s your problem, man. I’m out.
— Do NOT take another step
— Whoa, man! Chill. Let’s chill out, ok?
— I asked you to tell me what you were thinking. I’m not going to say it again.
— Seriously! Dude, please, just…just put the gun down. Look, I don’t want any trouble, aright? He…here, take my wallet. Just put the gun down.
—
— I w…was thinking about work, ok?
— Is that where you’re headed now?
— No, I work nights. Tonight I work. I was just thinking about this new girl that started there.
— Did you have any great epiphanies? Did you realize anything profound in the moment leading up to our introduction?
— About the girl?
— Yes.
— No, I can’t even remember her name.
— So let me get this straight. You’re walking down this alley mid-day, thinking about work tonight and this cute girl you’re excited to work with.
— Yes.
— And…
—
— And?
— I don’t know what you want from me man. Look, I have cash I have a phone. Whatever you want from me, it’s yours.
— I don’t give a shit about those things…what’s your name?
— I…Isaac.
— I don’t give a shit about those things, Isaac. I’m here to understand something. Something that’s been bugging me for a long time.
— Do we know each other? I’m sorry if I offended you in any way.
— We don’t know each other, Isaac. I’m certain we’ve never met. But I am going to kill you.
— Wh…why?
— Because this is an experiment, sir Isaac.
— What do you mean? So you’re not going to shoot me?
— What? No, I am. A real experiment wherein I kill you and see what kind of epiphanic details I can extract from you the moment before you cross over.
— I don’t understand. You want to watch me die?
— I really don’t. I want to know what you’re seeing before you die.
— How do you think that’s going to work?
— It’s going to work in the seconds leading up to your death. You’re going to tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. What you’re seeing. If you don’t say anything, you’ll still die, but your final moments of existence won’t leave any profound mark. No one wants to die without leaving some sort of mark on the world, Isaac. I suspect you know that.
— You’re a fucking psycho, you know that? You’re playing god.
— Someone has to.
— I take it you’re something of an atheist. Probably even a nihilist. What does this have to do with my life?
— Correct on the first. Incorrect on the second. Nihilism is a hypocritical conundrum. Not believing in anything is believing in something. This has to do with luck of the draw, fine sir! It could be anyone I pulled this on — you’ve won the lottery!
— I’m not going to reveal any great secrets, or give you what you want intellectually. And you’ll be risking the rest of your life in jail just to see an innocent man die.
— I think you sell yourself short. I’m confident you’ll have some pretty heady thoughts. Maybe some deep spiritual awakening. Maybe you’ll share with me seeing ancient civilizations or outside-realm insights.
—
— Ahh, but now I suppose I’m getting my dirty fingers in the petri dish, aren’t I. I’m imposing my own interjection of thoughts, of existential light, into your situation. Fuck! I knew I should have killed that guy in the park.
— Who? What guy? Look man this is crazy…
— A man. He was writing in the park. I couldn’t believe it was him. I was one axon hillock snap from shooting him in the back of the head. At least then I could’ve taken his writings and searched for insight, for some sort of transformative scripture. He would have been perfect for this experiment. Fuck! I could have read his writings and known right then and there exactly what the moments up to death provide for a person.
— But that’s impossible to know. You have no idea what that man’s story is. It could be his everyday writing or he could’ve been doodling. Who’s to say that on that day he was more caffeinated, or tired, or had just lost a friend, or anything man! You don’t know someone, you can’t tell these things.
— Nah, I had been watching him for months. I broke into his house when he was out and read some of his writing. He’s a brilliant dude. Ex-psychologist. I knew his content, his style, his prose. I should’ve fucking killed him that day. It was just too risky.
— Have you been stalking me?
— No, I wanted this to be spontaneous. I didn’t want to tip off anything. This had to be pure, detached.
— Look man, we can both just walk from this. I don’t think you’re going to gain any philosophical insight from me writhing in pain.
— It’ll be instant. I’m going to shoot you in the head. Lower your head, please. Look at the ground. Thank you.
—
— So in this moment, right before you die, as I’m placing this gun to your skull, you don’t feel anything different at all? No greater strength or power or revelation pops into your head.
— I don’t think so. I’m just fucking terrified right now.
— No past memories, no life flashing before your eyes? Nothing about the girl?
— Not anymore. I’m just…
— Just…
— I don’t know man, I don’t get this. Why the fuck are you doing this to me? This is so fucking stupid. Please don’t, man. Please!
— It’s peculiar, Isaac. Very peculiar to me. I would’ve thought for sure that the moment before a man died, there would be something different — some sort of premonition or insight, greater truth, or even calmness he would experience. It seems this isn’t the case.
— I think you’re going about this all the wrong way, man. You know the expression “I couldn’t do that if someone put a gun to my head?” That’s what’s happening here.
— That’s funny. You’re funny, Isaac. And you’re absolutely right. The difference is that you do have a gun to your head. And now shit’s very much real. People say they can’t run 20 miles. They absolutely could if their life truly depended on it. If the alternative is death, people can do just about anything. It actually makes it easier in a way, because the choice to not do it is eliminated entirely. Just as yours is now. So let’s see what you got in that big smart brain of yours.
— What do you want to hear!? You want to hear me speak in tongues? Spit out a new physics formula that explains how the world works? This is fucked up crazy!
— Ok, here’s how this works. I’m going to count down from three. With each number I want you to spit out any word, sentence, any sound that comes to mind. This is the experiment. To see what life’s countdown and imminent death brings to the brain. Will it be brilliance? Will it be fear? Will it be a classic Merry Melodies show tune?
— What?
— Three.
— Please!! Don’t, man. I’m begging you…
— Two.
— I, ahh, shmaistogg…ahyeee…
— One.
—
In the moments after the gun’s blast. The two men stared at each other. Both with disbelief. Both with fear. Both with sadness. The gun fell to the concrete with a muffled metallic scrape, and Isaac ran as the man collapsed in the alley and slowly died, muttering but one sentence — Nothing and everything. Nothing and everything.
