An army.
Back-ups, stacked up neatly, patiently waiting to be activated. I’ve seen glimpses within shared dreams, identical twins gazing into shards of infinity mirrors, looking both out and in.
This knowledge grants me immunity. No clone’s alone. You only die when you choose to. Any accident, any illness resulting in fatality, a replica steps up to replace me. Immortality through repetition. My best investment yet.
So, it’s crashed cars, OD’s, slit wrists for a giggle. All open avenues.
Reality is an agreement, a shared conversation between like-minded people. I just talk to myself.