On the Value of a Life

“Lemme tell ya, once you hear those bars close, that sound will haunt you forever.”

He had already been through plenty of skirmishes with the law, seen his friends be taken away, or cut down, if they were lucky. This time, it was his turn. He had robbed one too many travelers, and found an off-duty legionnaire. He told himself that he had had a good run, the gang will remember him for a long time, right? Right?

Or could he die in here, forgotten and alone?

The guard undid his chains, and pressed a boot to his spine, sending him toppling into the cell. He landed face-first with a mouthful of hay and pebbles.

“I hope you rot, criminal scum.”

Slam

He merely lied there on his face for an hour without an urge to move. Defeat began to sink in. For the first time in decades, he began to weep. “Come on ya big baby, you call yourself a bandit?” he thought to himself. “You’ve shanked children for Oblivion’s sake, you’re cold, heartless, mean, and…dead. Hopelessly dead and alone.”

He sat up, brushed himself off, and observed his surroundings. He had a fetid bedroll, coated in stains he would rather not identify, a wastebasket that had definitely been used for, well, waste, and a small stool. And that was it. He had spoken to some friends back in the gang who had been in prison. They had regaled him with tales and horror stories of how dreary it cold be and how brutal the guards were, but they failed to capture the grey. The endless grey that coated the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the atmosphere, everything. Even the vagabond in the cell across from him was grey…

“Psst! You, Breton! Hey, I know you hear me!”

“…”

“What, ya gonna sit there and cry the rest of your life? Come on, talk to me. Prison isn’t that bad. As long as you don’t mind depression, abuse, and starvation.” The Dunmer began to cackle.

“Leave me alone…”

“Ooh, a loner, huh? We had a guy like that once, he didn’t last long. Bashed his brains against that wall right there while he screamed for his mommy. Look, you can still see the stain, it’s right by your face!”

The weeping bandit dashed away from his previous position, terror in his eyes.

The Dunmer again cackled. “Oh, you’re rich, I like you. Tell me, you got a name?”

“Theodyrick. Now, if you would kindly leave me alone.”

“Can’t. Name’s Faren. I used to kill people for a living. Now I do it for fun! And just wha—”

“By Azura, would you leave me alone already? I really don’t care about how empty your life might be that you have to berate me, and I refuse to be subjected to your badgering! I was a feared bandit, alright? I robbed people, killed people, lit them on fire for no reason other than my own amusement, do you think you mean anything to me? The way I see it, we’re both already dead, and corpses don’t talk, so shut up.”

“Being dead isn’t that bad. It’s just the first step to being alive again.”

This piqued Theodyrick’s attention. “Explain yourself.”

Faren grinned from ear to ear. “Wow, aren’t you a bit early to be having the “death talk”? Most people that I speak with are already on their way to the chopping block, and need a bit of comfort. See, death isn’t so bad. It really isn’t the end you think it is, and it shouldn’t be feared. You have killed people, right? Did you fear for their deaths?”

Theodyrick scoffed. “Of course not. They died so I could live.”

“So, their deaths meant nothing, but what makes yours any different? Their lives were worthless to you, and I doubt you’re anything beyond a simple mortal yourself. Your life is just as meaningless as theirs, you just haven’t accepted that yet. Look at yourself, you are just human. You are flesh, you’re finite, temporary, bound to die. Your body won’t last, so what’s the point?”

“I am defined by my actions. Though My flesh will rot, my name will be passed down by those who knew me. I shall be recorded in history as a fierce highwayman, a terror on the weak and needy, a symbol of strength and wisdom.” He regained his composure, and began to gain a valiant glow about him.

“Oh, get off your high horse. Everyone that knew you will die, and so will your name. See, in our big world here, death doesn’t mean much. We all die, yet we all continue to live on, in a way.” Faren’s disposition changed, he became quite serious. “Tell me, Theo, are you religious?”

Theodyrick glared at him. “No, and I never have been. Some of my fellow bandits had an admiration for Hircine, but I never got much into it.”

“Oh well, no real difference. Regardless of who you worship, the afterlife is inevitable. Your Self is aligned closely to some deity, somewhere, and that is what will decide your fate. Your soul will live on eternally, be it in the halls of Sovngarde, the libraries of Apocrypha, or in the love of Dibella. Death is but a change, and this universe was largely formed by Change. You will exist eternally in unlife, just not here. Or perhaps you made a deal with a necromancer, or have some serious unfinished business, you could always roam these lands as a ghost. Hardly sounds like an end to me.”

Theodyrick scoffed. “You fail to make a distinction between my soul and my consciousness. We have plenty of evidence of creatures being “soul-trapped”, but they die just like anyone else, and I have seen no resurrection arise from attempts to place the soul back in the body. When I die, my soul shall be released, yes, but my consciousness, my identity and sense of self, will be eternally destroyed. I will go back to how I was before I was born, nothing. Death is the end.”

Faren giggled and cocked his head. “Boy, haven’t you heard of the Dreamsleeve? All our consciousnesses are drawn from that vast pool of inter-dimensional mind-sludge.”

“Uh, excuse me? Dreamsleeve?”

“A collection of particles, in a space apart from our reach. The Dreamsleeve is less of a collection of minds, and more of a pool of mind factors. Your consciousness is just an amount of those factors collected together in your head. When you die, the particles will be returned for someone else to use. But, those factors that make “you” may never be recollected in the same person again. You will be split up and placed back into the pool, where the next born child will take a scoop of particles at random, maybe it will have some of yours, and maybe it will not. However, your “code”, the exact combination of particles that makes Theodyrick can still be assembled altogether, however unlikely that may be. If time never ends, though, your particles will eventually reunite in the birth of a new “you”, in a way. That hardly sounds like an end.”

Theodyrick sat down, growing weary of his bizarre conversation. “Even if someone is born with the exact same personality and intellectual capabilities as me, he will not be me, as my body will perish.”

Faren let out less of a giggle, and more of a snort. “Oh, come on, that’s an easy one. Our bodies are recycled all the time. Cannibals eat, priests of Arkay consecrate, fungi decompose, necromancers necromance, and the universe is constant. Your flesh will eventually melt away, but something else will absorb it and use it again, allowing your body to live on in nature. Also, still assuming that time is infinite, your body particles and mind particles will be reunited someday as you. Still doesn’t sound like an end.”

Theodyrick could not tell if he was comforted or disturbed. “My life is not meaningless, and it shall eternally end someday. Your attempts to console a new prisoner have failed. Tell me, if we all just get to “live” forever, why do poeple ever fear death? Why not just jump off of a cliff to be closer to the Gods in the afterlife?”

“Life is a lesson. We have so much to learn, even here in prison. That is the gift of mortal life, since we someday pass on, we can learn, we can advance and change. Pain is sometimes necessary as it teaches you what not to do, and cuts you into a better shape. This life is a gift, cherish what you have and fear not the end. Your many lessons here will serve you will in death, so drink up everything you can from every passing moment.”

A guard stomped down the hallway, and approached Faren’s cell. “Faren Dreth, it is time.” He unlocked the door, placed the Mer in shackles, and began leading him away.

“See, Breton? We all die. But do I look afraid?” Faren winked seductively at the guard, who remained stoic. “Live for what you have left, but always remember, you’re going to die in here!”