> All those bodies rotting simultaneously would emit a horrifying stench
> for all the surviving animals and birds. On the bright side, there'd be
> an enormous stockpile of food in those corpses. It's possible a new
> species would be spawned to replace us; a being far superior to
> humanity. Or maybe just zillions of maggots infesting the world and they
> become the dominant species.
I am a nose guy but have never smelled a dead human body. I wonder what it's like. I would never do anything to stupid to find out. I wonder, are there people gifted with senses of smell so powerful they can name the exact number of corpses in a festering pile? Like archeologists standing around dig site, I see two odor experts positioned near the corpse pile, scholar-sniffing the
stench- filled air.
"Hmmm, I'd have to estimate at least a thousand", says the first guy.
"Nah", says his associate, "Your estimate is way too high. My senses tell me there's less than a thousand in that pile."
"Oh really?", says the other guy, "wanna bet on it?"
"I'll let you know in a minute", comes the reply, "I want to get another whiff here."
He sniffs delicately at the air, then says, "Ok, we've got a bet. I'm saying there's less than a thousand dead people in that pile, you're saying there a thousand or more. How much you wanna bet?"
"I'll bet my life on it", replies his cohort. "But since the bet concerns a thousand corpses, over or under, why not make it an even grand. I'll bet you $1.000 there's more than a thousand corpses in that pile."
"Ok", says the other guy, "it's a bet. Now who's going to do the counting?"
"Good point. That's an awful lot of bodies to count. Gotta move 'em first. Some rough work."
"Tell you what", says his associate, "let's find something else to bet on, then whoever loses that bet has to count the bodies with the other guy watching to make sure it's a legit count. Ok?"
"Sure it's ok", says the other guy, "but what are we going to bet on?"
"How about whether you're going to live or die after I put a few bullets through your skull", says the other guy, drawing a small pistol from his coat and pointing it at his astonished partner.
Just then the pile moves. Someone in that pile is alive. This changes everything.
"The pile, it moved", says the guy about to get shot.
"I saw it", says the other, "but it changes nothing. Sorry, you gotta go." Then he pulls the trigger, sniffing at the air to absorb the aroma of gun powder deep into his nostrils and lungs straight to his soul - the soul of an expert in odor dedicated to his craft.