If you can take the time, please review the previous page of Singularity Dex, a new (currently) fictional novel that I am working on. As always, thank you for your time and consideration.
"Born Jonathan Carlisle Stevenson on April 1st, 1976; Dax was an average kid all the way around. Two loving middle-class parents and an older sister that pushed him around; he didn't get whatever he wanted but he always had whatever he needed. He was always nice when he was young, but around twelve was when he started to get that weird philosophy of life that he was known for."
Stacy Stevenson, Dex sister, was doing a really great job keeping it all together while giving her little brothers eulogy to the twenty something people that showed up. Most of which was composed of the three ex-wives and their husbands that Dex had "left behind". No one was wailing in lamentations over his untimly demise, that's for sure. She would, no doubt, be the person that missed him the most, she thought about the way he use to call her "S.S." because she was the Natzi sister and it brought a smile to her face. She realized she was smiling while talking about the death of her brother and quickly went back to a more remorseful expression.
"I never knew if the story was true, but he always liked to tell it, he liked to tell lots of stories, but I'm sure you've all heard the one about the old man in the park. Dex always said that it changed his life. The old man sits down next to him on the park bench and told him that all of the other children in the park weren't real. That he was the only real person in the whole world so he should live his life without caring for these non-existent people."
"Jesus, that could really screw someone up at that age. It did Dex anyway. It made him sarcastic and uncaring towards a lot of people. Dex was proud of the fact that he didn't have any close friends and constantly called his real friends "aquantances". Some of us looked past all that. Dex was very intelligent, he could have done anything he set his mind to do, but he never really did anything. He would have much rather done everything, and he always thought he had all of eturnity to do it. No one lives forever Dex."
She turned to the casket, "I thought you would live a lot longer than fourty one though. I will miss you little brother. Wherever you go from here, I hope you find peace."
The funeral service was fairly short after that, there wasn't any kind of wake held in his honor, just another random tuesday that passes. The grounds keepers buried the body in silence as it was all normal routine.
At precisely 3 am that same night, a black SUV pulls into the cemetery parking next to the freshly dug grave of Jonathan Carlisle Stevenson. Two men get out and pull shovels from the back. The taller man says, at least it's not raining." The other replies, "At least we don't need the whole body."
