I am standing on the roof of an old car. I look down at the people; they pass me with a strong one-minded resolve to get to their respective destinations. I wonder what circumstance made me notice and record those people in particular- and what unfortunates may never grace my paper. The stories that they all hold only unite once in this small amount of time that I am here to see them.
I think that they are lucky that they did, otherwise they would have been lost forever.
I also see ones that have already been lost. They walk the streets, slipping in and out of the crowds. In and out of the same oblivious crowds that have no idea how beautiful they are.
His last sunrise scratches the earth with a harsh light. I turn my head from the window, where I have been standing. I have no pen, no paper. I have resolved to wait until the funeral.
Zim is not present. Dib's sister and father are, however. (The doctors are there also, but they are not important now.) His father glances at the chart in his shaking hand. (I think he wants to argue with someone, but I can't tell.) The Professor looks despondent. Gaz flips off her Gameslave, but only at the command of her father.
She looks expectantly at him. He nods.
I cannot read the expression on her face as she reaches for infinity.
Gaz switches off the machine. It sighs tiredly for a moment, and then dies. The heart monitor sings out a mourning tone as it loses its objective.
Despite the solemn nature of the event, I could not help but notice the Professor frequently glance at his watch.
Two minutes pass, and they leave. His sister pauses at the doorway, and turns her head.
"You can have him now." She whispers, perhaps to God. I am taken aback as she looks in my direction. She leaves.
Five minutes pass. I wait for him to wake up.
The heart monitor drones on, unconscious of its memorandum. The sound unites with the new light of the day; it lulls me into a stupor. I glance at my watch. I see that it has stopped.
Thirty minutes later, I am still waiting.