“What if our life is electricity and when we die that energy becomes distributed around the Universe like salt in seawater?”
It’s a reasonable enough question for an atheist to ask. Physics doesn’t know much about electricity, except what electricity is willing to show us; the most pertinent information involves the fact that it cannot be created or destroyed. Death seems enigmatic in a similar way.
Maybe a soul is a cluster of energy, held together by the fact of its existence, like how a wave is many things, but appears to be one, until it crashes against the rocky shore. Maybe death is that rock and the undertows, currents, and evaporations that follow are our afterlives. Each soul is a wave until it is no longer, and then everything is an ocean.
But then what if some souls are more tightly bound together than the status quo? The wave hits the rock, bounces back, charges again. What if some souls refuse entropy? What if there is a place—and the uni- verse is big and full of dark corners—where these souls gather and wait?
No. They wouldn’t wait, would they? These are souls with velocity, propelled by footsteps that have crossed the Rubicon, and they sail through the universe, not waiting, but gathering momentum, embracing one another. They are massive and calculating, and when they are of sufficient number, they will crack the rock that could not break them, and there will follow a great flood into the wilderness beyond.