Branson briskly moves to the library and sits back down as sleepily as ever. Producing a pair of earphones, he begins to listen to music as he studies. Of course, such devices do cause hearing loss for some reason that he cared not to read into further, though it mattered little, since such devices have been around for long enough that it, at least seemed to him, that whatever harm they caused was not severe enough for concern. Then again, now with this "AET" business, his life expectancy probably wasn't long enough for him to worry about such matters. Well, not that such an estimate was of much concern either.
Everyone dies.
Everyone is dying. Every second, every instant, everyone dies. Some for good, others live on as fleeting phantasms, illusions in those who inherit their thoughts. After all, everyone is just a collection of matter and- ...well, nowadays information was probably the more scientifically correct term. Anyway, everyone is just a collection of information, a conglomerate that changes. He was simply the sum of his thoughts and with each passing moment, those thoughts change. If the sum dies, then so too does the result.
As the music plays, a haze of sound intruding upon the edges of his consciousness, he begins to resume his studies. The noise providing thankful respite from the inaudible voices resounding in his head.