...or at least somewhere near here. Millenia after my final breath has parted from my body, some other civilization will be exploring the area where I once lived. Possibly a glacier or an inland sea will have receded to reveal my primitive grave in a primitive cemetery in a primitive city.

They may dig me out or they may just teleport my bones from their supposed eternal resting place. Who knows...but they will find me. They will pick, poke, saw, grind to dust. They will analyze my remains until they are certain what food I ate, what atmosphere I breathed, how I spent my time and how I ended it. My discoverers will find the tools I used: cars, computers, ballpoint pens. They will wonder why I chose to store so much data on media that degrades over time, eventually becoming of no use at all.

Will they know far more than we know now? Will they be able to know who I was by reading the energetic imprint that remained from my departed soul? Or will they examine my bones, teeth and polyester dust and believe that they know me?

Much more likely is some scenario entirely different from what I imagine. Maybe modernity will perpetuate itself, replicating and replicating again, each time making slight improvements. Destroying the old without a trace, but maintaining a perfect record with backups. Or perhaps some ecological disaster - manmade or otherwise - will wipe out the human race forever in the not-too-far-off future.

It feels silly to worry about this sort of thing...but it freaks the hell out of me. There are fundamental questions about our existence that leave us with no answers. What I really want to know is this: Where does my consciousness go when my life is over?

All I know is, if I am resting peacefully and someone comes to unearth my bones...

...I will haunt the living crap out of them. This I solemnly swear.