Do People moulder equally, — Summary

Do people moulder equally, she asks—do we all decay alike once laid in the ground? She doesn’t think so. Some strain of humankind, a Species, lives on just as positively as she does. And she is her own best proof: she fills her lungs and breathes, drawing from unseen tanks above her head. That simple breath becomes a testimony that she, at least, is not dead. She then turns to Jesus’s words—“There be standing here a Sort, that shall not taste of Death”—and if he was sincere, then the argument is over. She needs no further debate. The Lord’s statement is incontrovertible; he told her privately that death itself is dead. The mood is wry, intimate, and quietly triumphant—a defiant, almost playful conviction that the grave does not get the final word.