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[zander]

It was a scene out of rock and roll cliché; the ditch, the burning Harley, the body.
The pain. Oh God, the pain. Bits of him weren't where they should be. He knew this because he could see them. He wasn't supposed to be able to see them. Stupid sharp bend.
Now he would never know if the solution he had found to that final puzzle was workable. He would never see the end of the game. It was so damn unfair. Of course, he would never do other things, like getting married and having kids and buying a house and so on...but right now, missing the endgame symbolised the whole terrible unfairness of...of death.
The pain was fading now into numbing cold. He couldn't catch his breath. This was it. It seemed as if a shadow fell across him, and he turned his head to squint into the blinding sun.
There was a figure standing there. He thought so. The light made it hard to see details, but he thought he saw robes, and a hood. The figure was holding something, something oblong, a box maybe, or-
The figure opened the box. He saw a white rectangle, and a darker patch on it that moved. He understood.
"Thank you," he whispered with the last of his breath. "Oh thank you."
He lifted his arm--it resisted for a moment, and then came free--and touched the moving panel. Warmth and life flooded down his arm and through his whole being, even as his surroundings faded away around him.
And then there was just the ditch, and the burning Harley, and the body.

Zander