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The gods are dead and gone, and Etho is not a god. They all thought he was, they called him a god of the universe. Or maybe something greater. They called him a legend, a legacy, a man who watched the birth of time. And now, much to his dismay, he would bear witness to the end of it.
There's not much to say about the heat death of the universe, really. Some jargon about entropy and energy go into it, but he didn't understand any of it. The universe would just get hot and die. Etho could sit there and ponder it, he had the time in the known universe to do so, maybe grasp at some odd abstractness of the beauty of death while he was at it. Like some philosopher or a poet. Etho Slab, who got his name off of a shipping crate approximately five billion years ago, was neither of those.
Speaking of the heat death of the universe, would you look at the time. It was getting pretty toasty in the vast expanse of unimaginable space anyways. Now that he was actually present for it, this incredible event was pretty lackluster. His vision was just steadily getting brighter as he got progressively sweatier. Boring and very uncomfortable. Oh hey he was about to die, wasn’t he? Hadn’t really crossed his mind.
A few reactions passed through him, ones such as “took you long enough,” and “well this isnt a cool death at all,” and most importantly, “do you think they have food in the afterlife?” He hoped they did. That would be nice. He’d ask Kristin if they did but she was dead. Ironic. Now, a thought that hadn’t crossed his mind in about fifteen minutes resurfaced. He wondered if he’d be able to see the hermits. Etho would like to see the hermits, it had been far too long. A familiar pang echoed in his chest. Maybe he would shed a tear, but currently it would evaporate if he tried. And besides, he cried out all that grief about two million years ago. He was over it. Mostly. At this point he was just excited to see them all again. He missed them. A lot.
Etho yawned with both of his jaws, barely wincing as the heat scorched the moisture from his tongue. It didn’t hurt really. It just felt like a hot shower. Without the shower part. Just hot. And uncomfortable. Maybe Etho should take off his jacket. Hah, fat chance. If he was going to die a boring death, he would at least be wearing his favorite jacket. It was the one with Bdub’s faded patch on it anyways. Patch was a generous word, it was more like a collection of string by now. But he still remembered the colors as if they were brand new. A little NHO patch, he mused, running his hand across the scorched fiber. What a funny little time in his life. Bdubs was funny. Maybe he’d see him soon. He missed his awful jokes. They were terrible. Truly horrendous quality. Never failed to make him laugh though, Etho has terrible joke standards.
The universe was nearly dead. He was too. It didn’t hurt, thankfully. Just a prickling at his skin. Everyone said he had a high pain tolerance. That was nice at times like this. For Etho, death is a funny thing. He thought he’d never die. You get that mentality when you’ve been thrown into molten rock at least fifteen times. It gets old, dying, death, all of it. Not when it happens to loved ones though.
That sucks.
Etho sighed. He was just rambling at this point. When was he not? He was always thinking to himself. It was the only way to pass the time when you’re the only forsaken thing left alive in this crumbling wasteland of a universe. To think, remember, to count, to recount, to recount again, and again, and again. Etho learned that the number 47098 was his least favorite number. It was displeasing and reminded him vaguely of what Scar called a “Cheeto.” He hated those. A disrespect to the earth milk block’s name. Cheese. Cheeeese.
Anyways, Etho Slab would die soon. And he was fine with this. It was an event approximately 18. 8 billion years in the making. He had more than plenty of time to make peace with it.
Etho was old. He closed his eyes and smiled. He didn’t look old, but he was old. The oldest, he realized. Exciting! He was the oldest! Also dying! Forgot about that for a second. He tried to note what dying felt like, but he instead noted that all of his ways to sense this phenomenon had been completely burned off. Inconvenient. Overall, the end of the universe didn’t impress him. One out of Five stars. Etho rates death one out of fire stars. Etho.
Etho Slab. Etho S. Lab. Etho’s Lab. Eeth. E. Ladders. Lad.
Etho.
Etho.
Etho.
Etho.
Etho.
…….
Etho was dead.
And if he were alive to remark about it.
He would be at peace with that.