Human Remains

her body had let her down in life.
    I looked at my notes on taphonomy: the study of the processes that take place to a body, human or animal, after death. Taphonomic processes are not limited to decomposition, of which there are four or five recognised stages depending on which book you read (Fresh, Bloat, Putrefaction – occasionally subdivided into Active or ‘Wet’ Decay and Advanced Decay – and Putrid Dry Remains) but which may include processes involving external activity. Therefore scavenging, maggot feeding, burning and cannibalism are also described as taphonomic processes.
    I’ve always been fascinated by the role of Nature in all this. Should human activity be separated from the taphonomic processes, since it is an intervention? I mean, I can happily consider animal scavenging for inclusion as a process, since animals have a natural instinct to eat carrion, but what about cannibalism? It would be so much better to observe the process with no human intervention whatsoever, to see Nature at work without hindrance. But then, everything now is subjected to human intervention merely through the state of the world as it is. Even a corpse left undisturbed in a remote location would be subject to human intervention – greenhouse gases, the hole in the ozone layer, acid rain – acting to facilitate the decomposition process along with all the factors that Nature brings to the party. And utterly impossible, then, to separate the ‘real’ from the artificial.
    I wish there were someone I could discuss this with. My father, had he survived, would have been interested. He was endlessly fascinated by Nature and I believe I got my interest in the subject from him. On the long walks that my mother insisted we go on every Sunday while she ‘rested’, he would entertain and educate me about synchronicity, the beautiful, poetic, creative structures and systems of life and death. Everything has a purpose; everything has a place, a right to exist, a function. Birth, life, death, an endless, echoing cycle, a dance to which all the steps are natural and innate. No confusion, nothing wasted, nothing out of place. Change happens at the right time and for the right reasons.
     
     
    Vaughn called me at work earlier today to postpone our lunchtime drink. He was ringing from home, having not made it in to work. It seems Audrey has made their separation permanent, and Vaughn is too upset to contemplate anything but the loss of her.
    ‘I just don’t understand it,’ he moaned over the phone. ‘We were getting on so well.’
    I was tempted to suggest that the beginning of the end was likely to be the moment he considered Weston-super-Mare as a romantic weekend getaway, but I held my tongue.
    I have no particular scruples about the notion of ‘stealing’ Audrey away from Vaughn, although perhaps the idea of her body and where it has been might be a little distracting if I think about it too much. But the fact that she is now single, and presumably in need of some comfort, or at the very least entertainment, consumes my every waking thought.
    I have been here before, remember. There was a time before Justine when I wanted a girlfriend. Is that what I want now? Bored with the dance of death, do I now want to return to the unpredictability and despair of life? Part of me wants to fuck her, yes. Part of me does want that. But there is something else.
    In all my dealings with the depressed and the lame and the unhinged, I learned quickly that there was no point trying any of my techniques with those who had not already considered the path and taken some steps along it. It simply didn’t work, and no amount of tweaks to my procedure made any difference. That was when I learned how to pick the right people. But now I realise that the reason it has all become so stale is not just that if you’ve seen one human being decompose you’ve seen them all, but rather that I have such limited choice in the matter. If I could select people at random, it would all be so much more fun.
    So perhaps it isn’t about helping people who know what path they have chosen any more. Perhaps it is about giving people a gentle shove in that particular direction.
    After I finish the chores, I log on to Facebook for the first time in many months. I’ve opened accounts under various identities, for various reasons, but today I go straight to my own details. I have not bothered to find or add friends, other than Vaughn, who insisted. He remains my