"The universe is compressed after heat death."
Wide-brimmed hat, leather jacket, high-top leather boots, gloves.
"Space is an endless bed of salt below. Heat is an immeasurable sea above the salt. The rate at which the salt dissolves is proportional to the sea's depth..."
Food, water, backpack, map.
"...The sea is restless. By chance, it may give rise to the inevitable, a peak beyond all limits. The holes beneath it, displaced to the threshold, will form an ever-narrowing tunnel that keeps extending downward and accelerating..."
And a gun. No need for bullets.
"...Once the sea has drained away, the white earth will be laid bare, and the universe will once again gestate underground..."
"So?"
Prepare the body for burial. There seems to be time for a bath, too?
"...Time is merciful and impartial. No living creature can return to its own past."
"Then I'll go back to someone else's past."
Check everything. I shouldn't have forgotten anything.
"Find the compass at the end of the sea of sand, and travel against the current of the dead?"
"No problem. Ending your own life is for cowards. I'm just asking someone else to lend a hand."
Time to go.
"...Would you like me to give you an epitaph?"
"...Names come from the mouths of strangers. That's the custom here. But it doesn't matter. I'm off."
Open the door. The cold moon sends a soft murmur.
In the eleventh year of the Era of Silence, a stranger entered Aerdai, the Land of the Buried Sun, through the "Exit of the Dead." Following a prophecy, they sought a way to avoid war, or return to their homeland.
