Andy Weir

You ever read that short story, "The Egg?" It's a pretty popular short story on the internet. Guy dies, finds out that he's living every life, and his little universe is just an egg? It seems to have been written solely for the passage:

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

And I mean, okay, I get it. Really, I do. Give everyone some perspective, man.

But you know what that also could have read?

"I'm Hitler?" You said, appalled.

"And you're the millions he killed."

"But I was still me?"

"Yes, and your wife."

"That I had sex with."

"Yes, you've been everyone you've ever had sex with. And you've been your father, so also you had sex with your mother, technically. Lots of sex. All of it."

Try taking that story as a profound meditation on the truth of being good to one another now. Can't, can ya? I ruined it.

And I'm okay with that. It's neat, but always sounded a bit pretentious. But now I feel bad.

Because Andy Weir wrote "The Martian!" That was a good book! Hilarious and crude, not serious and preachy. And in my opinion it had just as much philosophy. Have a sense of humor about the possibility of your own death, and always keep moving, to win.