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Our Infinite Fates: A Novel

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Laura Steven

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“When an animal dies, another of the same species may cling to the body, eat the body, or look bored. Bees expel dead bodies from the hive or, if that is impossible, embalm them in honey. Elephants "say" a ritualistic good-bye, and touch their dead before slowly walking away. Corvids often accept the death of a companion without much fuss, but they at times have “funerals,” where scores of birds lament over the corpse of a deceased crow. But it is a bit odd that people should investigate whether animals “comprehend death,” as if human beings understood what it means to die. Is death a prelude to reincarnation? A portal to Heaven or Hell? Complete extinction? Union with all life? Or something else? All of these views can at times be comforting, yet people usually fear death, quite regardless of what they claim to believe. In the natural world, killing seems a casual affair. Human beings, of course, kill on a massive scale, but most of us can only kill, if at all, by softening the impact of the deed through rituals such as drink or prayer. The strike of a spider, a heron, or a cat is swift and, seemingly, without inhibition or remorse. They pounce with a confidence that could indicate ignorance, indifference, or else profound knowledge. Could this be, perhaps, because animals cannot conceive of killing, since they are not aware of death? Could it be because they understand death well, far better than do human beings? If animals envision the world not in terms of abstract concepts but sensuous images, the soul might appear as a unique scent, a rhythmic motion, or a tone of voice. Death would be the absence of these, though without that absolute finality that we find so severe. Perhaps the heron that snaps a fish thinks his meal lives on, as he one day will, in the form of currents in the pond.”

“I know that you know that I like Craig. And I know that I told you not to think of me that way. And I know that we can't be together like that. But I want to forget all those thing for a minute. Okay? Okay. I want to make sure that the first person you kiss loves you. Okay? Okay. She was crying harder now. And I was, too, because when I hear something like that I just can't help it. I just want to make sure of that. Okay? Okay. And she kissed me. It was the kind of kiss I could never tell my friends out loud. I t was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.”

“No matter its shape or its size, the perfect peach is the most heavily scented, the softest-fleshed, the one with the sweetest, most rampant juice. No acidity needed here, like with the perfect apricot. Just the softest, most suede-like skin, the most giving flesh and the sweetest juice. That is the peach I want.”