One day you'll die. Your life will flash before your eyes. Shards of half remembered conversation will stutter and fade. Colours will flash and scenes will loop; a life time rendered into a second that lasts an infinity. And as your soul evaporates from your hardening husk, water from a drying sponge, you'll ascend towards that glowing light no eye can ever see. It's there once more you'll hear the ethereal choirs sing, and you'll recognise their sweet harmonies, for they'll be singing these sounds - these sounds of Windows start up noises rendered 4000% slower. And you'll finally realise that you, and everything you've ever thought, touched or dreamt, was a mere figment of Bill Gates' fevered imagination. And then with a suck of air and a faint pop, it'll all be over.
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