I opened my palm and it turned out to be a Devil, one of the infamous 7 Devils of Six Mile Wayfarer.
Turning to Lavinia, I remarked, "You didn't have to go that far. Honestly, I was about to spill the beans anyway.
As a gesture of my sincerity, I'll let this little devil worm its way into my brain so it can work its magic. Bottoms up."
With that, I dropped the Devil into my cup of wine and downed the entire concoction in one swift gulp.
"Refreshing," I quipped, meeting Lavinia's gaze. "Now, fire away with your questions."
Lavinia let out a low whistle, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Holy shit, those reflexes of yours... They're something else," she muttered, her voice tinged with awe. "My 7 Devils, they're slippery little devils, unseen to most human senses. But you... you're operating on a whole other plane, buddy. Damn."
She paused, a wry smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Since we're laying our cards on the table, I might as well give you the full rundown on my abilities.
I may have spun a little lie for Lucky back there.
See, my power?
It's got seven devils, each one representing a cardinal sin.
Lust, Gluttony, Pride, Sloth, Wrath, Greed, and Envy. Sound familiar, mister Diablo?"
"Please, call me Eros," I interjected, my voice carrying a hint of intrigue.
"Okay, handsome," she began, her words laden with a mysterious allure. "So, here's the thing. I used to infect men with The Lust Devil, but Lucky remained untouched, his intentions pure.
The devil you've consumed is The Greed Devil, and it's got a way of coaxing out your deepest desires and goals.
Each devil, you see, corrupts the soul, amplifying its sin."
I contemplated her words and replied, "An interesting concept, quite biblical, if I may say so. However, you're mistaken about the soul. It's not the soul that's corrupted, but rather the brain.
It's a matter of biochemistry and galvanism at its finest.
Take, for instance, the case of Phineas Gage, an American iron shipbuilder, back in 1848.
A simple piece of iron pierced his skull, altering his very essence.
Phineas recovered miraculously from that lethal wound but lost sight in the affected eye.
After the accident, the simple and polite man turned into an aggressive, violent, impatient, and irresponsible person.
His family believed that Phineas was already gone and this was another person, maybe a demonic possession?
He survived and lived for 12 years.
After this incident, scientists, and neuroscientists, deduced that personality, behavior, and feelings, are not spiritual or metaphysical things. It is mere electrical charges and chemical reactions in the brain.
This led to a breakthrough in the field of neuroscience.
This incident became one of the strangest incidents that changed human concepts as a whole."
Lavinia retorted, her voice laced with disbelief, "Are you suggesting that there's nothing beyond this life? That our purpose extends beyond mere mortal existence?"
I chuckled softly before responding, my tone matter-of-fact, "Well, darlin', I reckon there's a concept of consciousness, but as for a 'soul,' that's just fancy talk. In the future, mark my words, we'll figure out a way to upload our minds somewhere, keep 'em ticking long after our bodies give out.
But when it comes to death, it's lights out. No soul, no afterlife. It's all science, you see.
Doctors today can swap out any part of your body, except the brain, of course. And they're even working on transplanting organs from other species into humans.
Can you imagine?
Even the heart!
Which is the main organ that pumps blood and watches over the circulation of blood to transfer oxygen to the brain and other materials, which can be replaced by another artificial heart.
This means that the heart is not primarily responsible for life, but rather it is a contributor to it just like the rest of the organs.
The main element that ensures the proper functioning of all organs in the body is the brain and the nervous system.
When a person dies, their brain becomes unusable again, as is the case with the rest of the other organs that are transplanted.
Neurons, if going through a process of necrosis, which is caused by them not being able to receive enough amounts of oxygen is an irreversible process.
No matter how we try, if you lose neurons, they ain't coming back to life, or as they were in the beginning before that certain organism ceased to exist.
In the records of history, there lies a curious chapter where mankind grappled with the enigma of death.
It was an age when the mysteries of galvanism were unveiled, and the macabre dance of life and death took the spotlight.
In those Victorian days, humans reflected on the finality of the stroke, that sudden cessation of the brain's complex symphony.
Once the spark of life dimmed, there could be no return from the abyss.
But oh, dear Lavinia, the fear of premature burial lingered like a ghost in a haunted Irish town.
A wicked solution emerged from the depths of morbid imagination – the implantation of bells in the very tombs that housed the dead.
Should the unthinkable occur, and life's flame flicker back to existence, the toll of that bell would pierce limbo, summoning the living to rescue the entombed from a fate worse than death itself.
"This all started because folks used to think no pulse meant you were done for. But that ain't the truth.
Plenty of people bounced back even with no pulse, proving it's all up here," I tapped my temple. "Brain, not heart, decides when it's curtains. Clinical versus Biological death."
She chuckled. "Well, hell, that was quite the lecture. You some kinda professor or something?"
I grinned. "Nah, this ain't even the tip of the iceberg compared to what we're gonna uncover together, us disciples of insight.
I'll be giving lectures to our crew, enlightening them like I just did with you."
"Eros, now here's the real kicker. Enough with the knowledge-seeking bullshit.
What's it you're truly after?"...