When offered eternal life, take it. No matter your mind's fate, come heat death, your body may be what sustains all that's left of life, maybe even some civilizations.
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"maddening beating of vile drums" - heart, check.
"thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes" - breath, check.
"outside the ordered universe" - past heat death, check.
Conclusion: Live long enough and you get to be Azathoth.
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֍ At the center of our cooling cosmos, our mad god lies in torpor. What our forebearers called 'the maddening beat of vile drums' is now our sun. May it never wake. ֎
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Some omnipresent beings accepted such offers, their temporal and spatial dimensions transposed. Channels of unbroken continuity, yet infinitesimally thin, strings knit into the fabric of being
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