by SASKATCHEWAN KOLONOSCOGRAD, Alternate Reality News Service Philosophy Writer
One day, the universe will end in an entropic soup of sub-atomic particles (a kind that a certain Seinfeld character will be powerless to assign at whim). This won’t be for a hundred billion years or so, so try not to take it personally.
Some time before the universe ends, there will be a last sentient being. In idle moments (after all, with a hundred billion years to go, there really is no hurry) astronomers, philosophers and gun manufacturers have all pondered the question: “What will the last thought of the last sentient being in the universe be?”
“I would imagine it would be something like, ‘Oh, so the speed of light really isn’t constant!'” said Phillip Plaint, author of Mad, Bad and Crazy to Know Astronomy. “I mean, really, sooner or later somebody will notice – a hundred billion years would be a long time to keep that kind of secret!”
“I suppose if the last sentient being in the universe was a human astronomer, that would make sense,” argued philosopher, political commentator and public kvetch Noam Chompsky. “But it’s far more likely that the last sentient being will be of another species living in a galaxy far, far away. They might think something like the English equivalent of ‘Colourless green ideas sleep furiously,’ only to them it might actually make sense!”
“Naah, they’re both nutso,” retorted Christopher Killjoy, CEO of gun manufacturer Sturm, Drang, Ruger & Company. “Most people most of the time are not thinking high-falutin’ philosophical jumbo-mumbo! Or for that matter, low-falutin’ nonsense-sequiturs jumbo-shrimpo! They think about stuff important to their own lives. You know. Down to Earth stuff, you should pardon the expression. Stuff like ‘Did I remember to floss this morning?’ or ‘Did I turn the lights off when I parked my car?’ That’s what’s gonna be the last thought of the last sentient being in the universe!”
“Well, that’s as depressing as fuck,” Plaint stated.
“If I thought that was true,” Chompsky agreed, “I would have to reassess all of my beliefs about the value of sentient life!”
An online poll of a thousand random people came up with different answers to the question. Thirty-four per cent of respondents responded that the final thought of the final sentient being of the universe would be, “Is that all there is?” Twenty-one believed that it would be, “I miss indoor plumbing.” Seventeen answered that it would be, “Well, that was random.” The rest of the responses were deemed by the pollsters to be too silly to contemplate (including one person who said: “This question is too silly to contemplate.”).
Chompsky rolled his eyes. “They’re just not getting it. It’s far more likely that the last thought would be something like, ‘Grrrizzard fardelybot’m ribrab appelate guffugguffo dimbleplosit!'”
When I asked him what that sentence meant, he rolled his eyes in the opposite direction (which, depending upon which mathematics of body language you are applying, either amounted to eye rolling squared or eye roll minus eye roll, equalling zero eye roll). “Do I look alien to you?” he demanded.
Some philosophers age better than others.
“Oh, right,”Killjoy finally caught up to the conversation. “The last sentient being would likely not be human, would likely come from a more advanced race. So, maybe their last thought would be, ‘Did I turn off the lights when I parked my hovercraft?’ Or, if they’re really advanced, maybe, ‘Did I turn off the lights when I parked my spaceship?’ I’m willing to consider either possibility.”
“While it’s possible that the last sentient being could be from an advanced race,” Plaint mused, “it’s equally possible that all of the advanced races had already died out, and it could be a self-aware amoeba. If that was the case, its last thought could be, ‘I think it may be time to split.'”
Chompsky moaned. Hard.
“Yeah, I think you’re assuming that the last sentient being will know that what it is about to think will be its last thought,” Killjoy countered. “What if it tries to think of something profound, but it doesn’t die right away? Will it just keep thinking the same profound thought over and over again until it dies? How long can it keep this up before something mundane creeps in?”
“Thirty-seven minutes and twelve seconds,” Chompsky commented. “Not…that I know from experience…”