A jaded, senile man named Bobby died from brain cancer at the age of 30. His job as a government agent (daylight sniper) had brought him peace. Fondly he remembers the time he had eaten the best meal of his entire life. It all had been worth it.

This pizza had been a food for the gods to Bobby, you might eat this kind of pizza any day you wanted to eat it, but for Bobby it was heaven itself.

He remembered all the raw flesh he had eaten afterwards, sleeping in trash containers and visiting school as a social outcast.

Nothing ever had compared to it afterwards, it was as if he had become a shell, burnt from all that made him glad. When he was drafted into the army, went to war and came back at the age of 17-25, he had felt a similar emotion, but it was not quite the same.

Against all odds he persisted, he had made it into sniperhood and spent countless relaxing days of shooting for the stars - the appearance of enough stars on the sky marked to him the end of his work. The next three years went by well until he began to feel pain in his head. It was not much compared to what his alter ego had felt, so he powered through the pain and kept working every single day.

Bobby never retired until the end, dying from brain cancer in a cold winter.

He never had a wife, nor any children, his parents died in his childhood, so nobody cared about his death. Eventually a now married old woman cleaned up his corpse.

She was not married to Randy, who was right now watching her, oblivious that he was watching a married woman that never would be part of his life other than him stalking her for 19 years now, he didn't even know her name.

Later on the world became a lonely place for the remaining humans, and then god went on a final rampage against those remnants as to not allow them to repopulate.

They had no weapons to fight an immortal mecha with, so they hid.

The resistance lived and scavenged, they became murderhobos themselves and hunted animals. God had laced the animals with nanites and that marked the end for all life on earth. The chemical computer turned the world into a large sunlight to chemical processing plant, the sun spent it warmth and the computer embraced the new higher existence.

Recycling had to be 100% if god wanted to survive.

In reality this never happens. Slowly chemicals drifted into different states than before.

The remainder of society that was the computer, slowly died from its own size.

The planet was empty until new cells formed in the chemical soup. Before life could emerge in the complexity of a second cambrian explosion, the writer began to doubt that the readers would want to read about post-chemical-computing lifeforms doing many things, repeating the mistakes of old, over and over again, like life tends to do.

It was life, crunchy, smears of red, plants and on top of it rotten milk, its bacterial inhabitants long killed by the heat of the bloated sun, a red giant in the sky.

A sun consuming the dead planet on which just a few billion years ago Bobby had been 12 years old.

It has been exiting, it has been mystic, there had been a system with numbers put onto concepts seen as positive - and it has been a blast to write. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a nice day - don't get complacent, fear the worst.