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Ask Ana-Moly: “Is It Just Me, Or Am I Dead?”

Ever wonder what your favorite characters do offscreen when they don’t know what to do? They Ask Ana-Moly, of course! The advice-giver to galaxies both near and far, Ana-Moly is crash-landing on every Monday, doling out advice to some of the multiverse’s biggest quandaries.

Dear Ana-Moly,

I think I’m dead? And honestly dead, as opposed to the “dead on the inside” thing that everyone feels at some point. I think I’m really, actually, literally, dead.

There have been a few hints as to my present condition. For starters, I haven’t changed my clothes for an extended period. It used to be that I couldn’t wait to get out of a collared shirt and khakis, but now I’ve been dressed for a funeral for three months solid and I’ve found that it isn’t so bad. Besides, my fingers keep falling off every time I try to undo the buttons.

That brings me to clue #2: I’ve experienced a startling loss of fine motor control. It’s all I can do somedays to drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen. Once there, it’s all but impossible to make a decent breakfast. I’ve burned down three separate houses just by lighting a match. It seems like the entire neighborhood went on vacation at the same time, and they all left the gas on. It makes it easy to find a new place each time, but moving is such a hassle, you know?

I guess it’s OK that cooking isn’t working out so well. I’ve always been an adventurous eater, but lately, my appetite has tended towards the raw. I caught an opossum the other day, and before I knew what I was doing, I was wrist-deep in its cerebral cortex. It was the best meal I’ve had in weeks. That was clue #3 that maybe I’m not the same person that I used to be.

It all seems to point to the same conclusion: I’m dead yet somehow still shambling around. I need some guidance on what to do next. I’ve seen a few other humans running around, but they have some intense-looking crossbows and samurai swords and I don’t think they’re interested in being friends. Do I continue to cling to what made me human (clean clothes, home-cooked meals, limbs that stay attached?), or do I embrace my new state of being?

I’d better wrap up this letter. My arm feels like it’s going to fall off. I wish I meant that less literally.

Mostly Dead


Dear Mostly Dead,

Yeah, I’m going to say that you’re dead. Alive humans may stare blankly into a fridge while trying to decide what to eat, but very few burn down their neighbors’ homes or chow down on opossum tartare as a reaction. The finger/limb rotting off thing is also not super normal for the non-dead. It’s pretty clear that the funeral you find yourself dressed for was, in fact, your own.

But there’s good news! You’re now free of a lot of the things that make alive humans feel dead inside. You don’t have to go to work, for starters. You don’t have to worry about the costs of a car, maintaining a house, or even paying the electric bill. Most excitingly- you don’t have to worry about getting sick and dying under a pile of medical bills! (You’ve very likely already done that and it’s very much a one-time sort of event for most people.)

I suggest that you take this time to travel. Go see places that you haven’t seen before. Enjoy the solitude of a national park, see monuments and historical sites without the crush of tourists, and just wander wherever your remaining brain function is telling you to go. Eat what you want. Take the path less traveled. Maybe don’t go for a swim, but feel free to do everything else. Go by foot and leave everything else behind (except for your body parts. You should try to take as many of those with you as you can.)

With the stars,
P.S.- You’re right. The dude with the crossbow most DEFINITELY doesn’t want to be your friend. I don’t suggest inviting him along.


Did you miss last week’s column? Read it here:

Ask Ana-Moly: “As A Bard, Is It Too Late For Me And My Lute?”

Read more “Ask Ana-Moly” here:

27 January 2020: Ask Ana-Moly: “Red Just Isn’t My Color”

20 January 2020: Ask Ana-Moly: “I’m An Intergalactic Freelancer- How Do I Protect My Work?”

13 January 2020: Ask Ana-Moly: “The Symbiote Kissed Me First!”

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