Down below the street there was a small room.  In that room on a table was a book. 

     The book tells you how to survive.  If you are involved in an end of the world scenerio you should have some information handy and this was the only book in that basement room.   

       In the book on the table in the basement room were the signatures of two people who had been in that room during a catastrophic happening.   They had used the book and written notes in the margins.   

      One thing they wrote was that they wished they had a weapon and lots of bullets.   There seemed to be an endless stream of desperate people around them until in the end they were shot and left for dead by robbers.  They managed to live long enough to sign their names in the book amid some spatterings of blood.

     Their souls departed this earth and the wisdom in the book stayed with them into other realms.  Nothing is permanent but that which we transfer from one brain to another.   

     The book on the table in the basement room had divine instructions about how to survive this life and transfer that energy to other worlds.  Inside the pages were drawings of other parallel universes that the couple had visited frequently.   They wrote that they had known each other in many lives and by dying close to the book they were sending a message out to others about eternal life.

       There seemed to be a holy glow over that book on the table in the basement apartment.  However there were no human eyes to see it.   Dead and moved on.  Nothing is permanent.  

     The book crumbled into dust.  Off in the distance you could see the wind advance to pick up the fine scraps and whirl them off to other parts of the universe.   Small specks of book went to places where the couple lived again.  They recognized the book dust sifting thru the blinds in a sunbeam as it shown on their bed on a morning in February.