[ WP ] Every person in the world was created to complete one specific part of a master plan , when we die , we get to see what that one task had been . What was yours ?

You died crossing the road outside your home. Most people die within a few streets of where they live. Hardly surprising, really. Just a simple matter of statistics. 
 
 Your son cried though he was n't really sure what it all meant. Your husband held his hand and tried not to think about cooking without your tuneless whistling. Passersby spared you a glance and a thought before returning to their own lives. 
 
 `` But yours is over and now you are here,'' I tell you. Your eyes blink a few times, trying to adjust to the light. We are sat in a pale yellow room that reminds you of the living room of the first house you ever owned. You and your husband argued over the colour for weeks before deciding to flip a coin on it. Heads, you won. It was half certain, anyway. 
 
 Your hands grip the arm chair you're sitting in; a worn beige chair that looks like the one your father always used to sit in to watch the 6 o'clock news. In fact, everything in the room seems familiar including me. I look a little like your mother, you think, and a little like you and a little like the woman you always see on your walk to work. You settle back down, not as frightened anymore. 
 
 `` Here is nowhere,'' I warn. `` And everywhere, too. It does not exist yet it is as real as the world you have just come from.'' 
 
 You nod at these revelations, not sure what I am trying to tell you. You have n't realised you're dead yet. 
 
 `` You're dead,'' I say again. `` But it does n't matter. You've completed your part of the master plan.'' 
 
 `` W... what?'' you stammer. You have only registered the first part. `` I'm dead? But what about my son? And my husband?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know,'' I answer honestly. `` They're not dead. They still have to finish their part in the master plan.'' 
 
 You flap your hands, agitated. It's a habit you've had ever since you were a child. You picked it up from a neurotic aunt. 
 
 `` Master plan? What master plan?'' You sound angry. I smile. 
 
 `` The master plan. Oh, the reason for everything. Everyone has a part to complete in it. You, your son, your husband, even your parents. You have done your part, now.'' 
 
 `` My part? What do you mean my part?'' I look at you, this collection of experiences and decisions and oh, just everything. 
 
 `` Your part was falling over when you were seven and grazing your knees. Your part was learning how to cook scones with your grandma and cooking them for everyone in your flat at university whenever they were ill. Your part was choosing to do French not German in Year 10. Your part was falling in love with a man you met in a bookshop who spilled coffee over you. You had so many parts.'' 
 
 `` I do n't get it.'' Your voice has grown firmer but your eyes are still wary and confused. 
 
 `` Your part was living,'' I say. 
 
 `` B... but why?'' You seem disappointed that your only aim in life was to live. 
 
 `` So we could see how you lived. So we could study how a change in variables changed you, if a mother's love would make you or break you. So we could observe how you affected other people. Your part in the master plan is living, the master plan is life,'' I explain. `` We need to know what the ideal initial conditions are for perfect life. Universes are n't cheap, you know. We ca n't just go around making them and hope for the best. We simulate initial conditions, run the simulation over a period of a septillion years, see what happens and if it does n't work out then we run the simulation again with different initial conditions. This is our fifteenth attempt.'' 
 
 `` So I'm not real?'' you ask me. 
 
 `` No. If it's any consolation, neither is anyone else. You're all just lines of code. For some reason, we have to explain this to you otherwise the code crashes when we try and return you back to the mainframe ready for the next simulation. We learned that the first time around. The whole system crashed. Do you know how long it takes to write a simulation of the entire universe? Thermodynamics is such a bitch to model realistically.'' 
 
 I fear this has gone over your head slightly as you are looking at me lost. 
 
 `` Time to go,'' I tell you and you are gone, at the tap of a button. All part of the master plan. 

