The creature cannot let go. Its jaws have long since clenched in rigour mortis. It has fused with time and become what is often referred to as 'inanimate' -- a not entirely accurate term.
Kelvin produces his scalo-meter and, upon measuring, finds the lifeless remains are still reading well North of absolute zero. "It has passed into a fractured state of multiplicity" Kelvin says, to which Fig rolls deep purple eyes and disguises a twitter of laughter with a chirp of song.
"It may appear whole, but the bonds that unite its physical presence have already begun to return to lonely one-ness with the universe" Kelvin continues.
"So, it's 'dead' and 'rotting', got it" replies Fig. "Don't you find it strange that the little monsters tighten up like this in preparation for decomposition? Wouldn't it be more expedient for them to burst apart, scattering atoms and energy everywhere at death, as we do?"
"Well, there's evaporation to consider" Kelvin begins to reply when his antennae detect a waft above them. "We might have to find another specimen, Fig" says Kelvin. "There is something on the gases, and it has spotted us. It may be hungry. Let us return later".
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