Afterspace and Other Foolish Writings

Ok, I’m back. This is Burt again. We narrowly escaped detection by the Catroopers, henchcats of the Grand Purrbah - keeper of Cat Knowledge. Anyway, I should further explain our situation so you may better understand my messages… I am the leader of a crew that travels throughout Afterspace… limitless time and space of the Afterlife. We travel in what best could be labeled as a space craft, but really it is a time-space craft. It works on the fundamentals of fundamental particles… and spin… quarks or something. We’re not sure exactly how it all works. But moving along, our crew has chosen to spend our eternity scoping the universe for its secrets and then publish, organize, and reshelve the annals we author with the sole intent of informing you, the living, of cool stuff that we wished we all knew about when we were on that side of Afterspace.

My crew is fairly talented though we are all new to Afterspace from various stretches of the universe. Tixxx is First Officer. For us humans, it is best to describe him as a humanoid dogperson with opposable thumbs, though he would be greatly offended if he ever found out I refered to him that way. He is exactly 2 meters tall. Apparently everyone in that species is the same height and weight which makes clothing and anything ergonomic rather simple - an ingenious evolution for a species that started out on four legs chasing scarbs, small crab-like mammals that have furry claws from what Tixxx tells me. Anyway, Tixxx is reporting what he finds to his species much like I am to you. He is quite good with weaponry and security and he hates cats with a passion. I suppose somethings are universal.

The other members of our small but effective crew are named Forge and Maliqmoo (the ‘q’ is silent). Forge is a scientist-engineer type but with really spectacular social skills. In fact, we dubbed him our Hospitality Engineer. He appears human in every way, though he tells me they are born old and die young as a species. I won’t even try to imagine the birthing process. He died when he was zero just like everyone else in his species. He was born at 67, retired and living in a mountain cabin by a lake. His manners and table ettiquette are unsurpassed.

Maliqmoo is what could best be described as a gas, not as in the life of the party… but more like Argon or Helium. He can hardly contain himself… he hates when I say that. To further describe his appearance would be futile because honestly all I can say is that he looks like a cloud of gas. Maliqmoo is from a star system on the other side of the Milky Way Galaxy. He has been to Earth many times. He says it is fairly easy to blend into foggy areas like San Francisco undetected. His role on this mission is Information Officer. He has the uncanny ability of seeping into almost anywhere.

That’s the crew, my comrades. We hope to enlighten you to various things that would seem useful to understand. We are trying to build a universal library… which is the ultimate fulfillment for a librarian. Read on and be well…

BMAX, ENTRY A1.01

Hello people among the living. My name is… uh, was… Burt Maxwell. I recently died. I was a librarian in the world of the living. Now, I am exploring the world of the dead. I have been wandering about in what I call the Afterspace… the universe as seen by one who has passed, I suppose. I recently discovered a method by which I may send messages to the living. Unfortunately, it is in the form of an internet blog. I would much prefer another route as this seems quite silly, but I play the cards I have. I must warn you… before all else, that I have great opposition to doing this… I mean writing to the living… there are many dark and evil forces, namely cats, that are trying to stop my messages. So, if I am bluntly interupted, there is a good chance I have had to move along due to impending feline interference. I will be bringing you explanations of things I find here in Afterspace. After all, it is all connected. Things can be explained and frequently have simple explanations to boot! The short of it is that the cats… the cats… well, they know evverything. I know it seems impossible. It’s true… I think. Ever wonder why they sit there on top of things… looking nonchalantly at the world? Sleeping all day and night? They have it all figured out… they don’t need you… nor ever did. I am sure you think me insane at this point… well, impossible… I am dead and in perfect health… one of the fringe benefits of being dead. But have you ever wondered why cats run through the house, seemingly afraid of the slightest noise or movement? They are playing. Not as in a game… although that may also enter their evil plan of restricting knowledge… but as in acting. They are simply pretending to be scared. And frankly, I think we can all agree that the way they run away is rather drastically opposed to their everyday demeanor… pompous and righteous, aloof and majestic, uncaring and bored with life. Think about it. Drat!! I must go… felines approach. Take heed to my warning of the evil cats… do yourself a favor and get a dog… they will protect you!

Be well… BMAX, ENTRY A1.00

Burt Maxwell was a librarian. I mean that in the truest sense, as he has passed on and he really was a librarian, even a good one at that. He has finished that last chapter of life and has crossed into the great unknown. And being… excuse me… and having been a librarian, Burt now has a mission to record and categorize the expanse that is his afterlife. His annals, complete with organization rivaling that of the Dewey Decimal System, will be on display here in this blog, for the living to digest and form opinions on what lies after death… in AfterSpace (cue strange spacey music).