8 EVERYTHING BRINGS about NOBODY

A trillion of trillions of years later …

Yes, we, the human beings are the unique form of life and, provided that I am completely alone, I am, for the present time, the life. Provided that the Thecnetos does not leave me to die, and to live seemed to be impossible in the last planet, his mission must be at the time to preserve my life and, in general, the life. But, why? I do not know it. If I knew why it would know really why!
Very much later, when already I understood everything, I saw, on having focused in the human prehistory, that the only one felt of the life is the survival; every detail the one that is made an alive being uses for it. Because of it, the sense of the life is not any more than the life, and the sense of the survival is not any more than the same survival. This way of tautological and senseless it is the biology in his depths. A hen is the instrument of an egg to do another egg. I learned - probably very late - that the tortuous universal history was not any more than the tortuous method that had a man to do another man. To discover these two men would give some sense to the days that continued and it will justify this long and sometimes tedious monologue.
In the alive beings, them of now and them of before, it is fruitless to look for another sense, another meaning to his industry, to his anatomy, to his conduct and to his psychology. The life only serves to persist; any examination of the elaborated ones and sometimes dark features of the life, if it comes to a sufficient depth, comes always to this conclusion: the emptiness felt of the life is the life. And it is probably more honest and simple to admit that no had sense at all. It is said that the purpose justifies and explains the means. But in the life the purpose prosecuted by this way is the same way. The life is a phenomenon of reproduction that is autoreproduced and nothing more. This is obvious in the populations, and in the individuals, since only egoismo and anxiety for continuing being, is observed on having studied the universal prehistory, but already we are less those that we know that behind this one vain drive of survival of the molecule germinal, that is a molecule capable of generating other equal molecules to it self, - and that cannot do another thing any more than it - and that has found after an infinite time of development, an infinitely effective way of being copied to if same: the Thecnetos.

This way, an inert molecule is - paradoxically - the final and only protagonist of the life.

Of this definition of life - certainly supposed, which existed before the universe was remaining empty - they can deduce and explain all the alive beings that at some time filled the cosmos. And I should be served therefore to explain the major mystery of all: what is this conscience in my unconscious meats. But it does not explain it.

This explanation of the life - if I was managing to understand completely his implications, they would explain, the empty ruins that I cross and that puzzle me, or because my I, it is not ignored to itself like normally do the things, why of multiple parts inconcientes of my body, does my sensitive conscience arise?
The life also should explain who I am I or what is the Emissary. And to explain, though I do not know with what words, what is really the Thecnetos and, for especially, they would explain the content of these mistaken letters. But there is nobody not entrusted at all in revealing it. Dreams and words is the only things that I have.

Doubts. Only of doubts I fill my days. And perhaps my death will come without I could answer my questions, nor deal if perhaps this they were the important questions. It did not know yet, that this death was looking for me hasty and impatient.

This way it is the last planet, for the solitary modern man there are neither family nor loving relations; there are neither trade, nor art, nor mass media, there is neither books, nor architecture, nor religion, nor science; there are neither philosophies nor superstitions, there are neither cemeteries, nor technologies, there is not even language in the strict sense of the word; every individual has in his mind thoughts that they do not need to be symbolized in words, whom would one direct them in case of existing? There are no signs instead of the things, there are only pure notions of the things and of his relations. This individual protoidioma only serves to understand itself to yes same and to the Emissary. There is no verbal language, but yes there is this protolenguaje for every person who is born (what happens very rarely) and there is a written common system only with the Emissary (the letters they are an example of it). All these, and other structures used by the primitive humanity for his survival, are now unnecessary.

It has eliminated any track of civilization or of society.

There is neither memory, nor individual not collective. There are machines, but we have not made them we, and they have not been done for us; they have his rare language, this one yes, universally and commonly to other machines, to the Emissary and to the Thecnetos.

The organic life and the conscience only were instruments of the blind molecule germinal to multiply.
Means, do not die. I itself am a way, the Thecnetos is a way, the purpose is actually, at all.

Now the perfect Thecnetos multiplies infallibly to the molecule germinal and the life and the conscience is not necessary any more.
While there is energy, for very small or strange that this one is, the purpose will not come and the Thecnetos will work, using her to multiply it.