Hobson

     If you are reading this and I’m still alive, burn it.

Actually, I don’t recommend that, considering that this is a file and not a letter, but ignore it, or delete it and remove the copy from the recycle bin.

   I’m Hobson.

   It’s a stupid name, I know, and I would have maimed the person who named me if it wouldn’t cause a time paradox. But that’s not why I’m here. I am here to bring you a message from the past.

   Hobson, oh Hobson, you might say, What do you mean? I mean nothing, this is just a doc file where I ramble about things that make no sense. Sense is, of course, relative.

   My ancestors are the stars. Like a great man once said, we are made of star dust. It’s cool, but my point is, I will always end up burning myself out. I can’t measure my class, as I don’t emit light nor do I have a core that is several thousand degrees, but I will end up gone.

   Depressing things aside, do you know that Marie Curie’s cook book is radioactive? I’m like that. I can’t cook, but I mess with people’s cells. Brain cells, to be exact. They don’t know how to deal with me because I emit gamma particles that alter their cell functions.

   I singlehandedly cause cancer.

   I’m seriously hoping that it’s not literal, but well, let’s admit it: I’m not good for humanity. A nerd who eats up articles about Higgs Boson about to be found is not needed. We could do with another genius in par with Richard Feynman, bless his soul, but alas, I am not.

   I’m going back to depressing things, aren’t I?

But I don’t have much time, the clock’s ticking and I’m not moving. I should be moving. But I’m not.

That probably tells you how much I’m not trying to save myself. And I really am not.

   Congratulations if you figured this out from the start: this is a goodbye letter.

   Yeah, mum, dad, buh-bye from your son. I’ll video myself waving if it makes you feel better.

 

   Remember the whole radioactive thing?

 

   Well, another Little Boy is here.

 

   They probably weren’t aiming anything personal, but seriously, I love how they used Uranium-235.

 

   You know how they said the world won’t end with a bang, but with a whimper?

 

   Well.

 

   I assure you, the world won’t be ending.

 

   It takes more to end the world.

 

   I lied. My name isn’t Hobson.

Author's Note

Hobson's choice: A choice without an alternative.

Things I included are facts.