[ WP ] Humans discover that there is nothing after death . No sentience , heaven , hell or rebirth .

As I watched the monitor from my hospital bed, I found myself to be weighed down. Not by the wires, the tubes or the blankets ( that were uncomfortably tucked beneath me ); but by something internal. A growing feeling of despair. 
 
 The flat screen hovered a few inches away from the foot of the bed, the news caster speaking with a lovely English accent. It made what she was saying sound just a little more lighthearted. 
 
 `` With the nanoprobe, Scientists were able to watch as Mr. Hernandez passed away, giving us a look into the three hundredth person to'pass through'-'' 
 
 Pass through? That's what they were calling it now? 
 
 I shifted slightly in my bed, a throb of pain making it's presence known in my lower back. 
 
 I suppose it was better than what we used to call it. Before we knew. Surprisingly, after the initial shock, there was n't much Chaos. 
 
 Well. Comparatively, I suppose. 
 
 Everyone had watched that day. The first person to have'passed through'. Every news channel was streaming the footage. 
 
 First, we were given full view of the woman in question. She was hooked up the same wires and tubes I am today. We were given a reading on her brain, and given an E.T.D., and we waited for a long while. We watched as her family said goodbye. We watched a doctor give her basic stats ( Hispanic, Age 43, 5'6'', etcetera, etcetera. ) 
 
 And then we were all enthralled as suddenly, a map of her brain lit up on screen, and the image of her body was replaced with what looked like a grainy video feed. And we watched in awe as what appeared to be memories flooded the screen. 
 
 It lasted all of two minutes. This woman's life story was vomited out to us over a T.V. screen, and we all had the morbid curiousity to keep watching. I doubt there was a single person to turn their Telly off during that moment; though I wish I had the ability to. I felt as if I were intruding on something so private and precious, and yet... 
 
 She had volunteered. So I pushed the thought away. And at the end, we were greeted with a new image. 
 
 We saw what appeared to be a door. There were a thousand little wires, all connected to the door handle, and it pulsed with a silvery blue light. For a long time, we all just stared at it. 
 
 And then we saw a hand, moving towards it and grasping it. 
 
 A voice, melded with a thousand others ( or so it seemed ), spoke clearly through the screen. 
 
'Powering Off.' 
 
 The door pushed open, and she stepped through boldly. Only to show nothingness. 
 
 We all waited for what seemed an eternity. The video feed played on, but all we saw was... Black. Grainy black. 
 
 The feed stayed on for a few hours, though some news stations cut it off thinking it was over. 
 
 The world erupted in outrage in the first two weeks. Christians in the U.S. claimed that it was a fake; created to destroy religion as we knew it. Many people committed suicide. Others began scams claiming they had found the fountain of youth. All in all, it was a bad time. 
 
 And now, a few months later, here I was, the next Candidate waiting to hear back. I so loathed waiting for anything, and this especially made me anxious. 
 
 See, they always pick people who are going to die of some disease. They want to see if it affects our'passing through'. 
 
 She had breast cancer. I have lung cancer. They pull all medical records, looking for different candidates. 
 
 I'm a white male. 6'2''. Age 24. And I have a month or so left to live. Before this hospital bed became my home, I was serving a life sentence for murder. 
 
 I suppose that's why I'm so calm about this. After all, even with there being nothing after death, that's all I had to look forward to anyway in life. 
 
 It's funny, though. The day I die will also be the day I'm exonerated. And this... Nanoprobe will serve as a testiment to human error. And I think that's more important than what comes after. 
 
 
 Author's Note: I apologize for the length. I felt the character needed that time to develop, as well as the story. It's a rather complicated subject, after all. 

