“It turns out, death is not a matter of metaphysics, but just a matter of physics. Or a matter of just physics. Granted, not your garden-variety type (after all, body decomposition is a matter of physics, isn’t it? Or chemistry, but anyhow), but the general relativity one, or that thingy, ‘quantum gravitation’ – take your pick.
Death is a white hole“

Michael Cooper was not an astrophysicist, just you garden variety (pun intended) social scientist. But he was an educated social scientist. That is, he read more than social sciences stuff (is it a science, actually? he often wondered). He read mostly SciFi, fantasy, and the like (Stephen King high on hist list), but enough to know about black holes, time dilation, event horizon, Hawking radiation and the like.

“However, if this is a white hole, then everything must be reversed.. Ain’t so?”
   — “Holly shit!”

Fact is, in black hole theory, reaching (and passing) the event horizon of a black hole means, for the observer outside, that the time expands to infinity, while for the protagonist – the traveller travelling beyond the event horizon, that is – the time passes normally.

“So, if I’m right, for everybody else – if my white hole theory is right – the time passes normally. I’m probably being buried about now. But for me..” 

Michael Cooper shivered. Well, not quite – didn’t have a body anymore, did he? – but still, he had memories of a body. 

He knew he’s dead – or dying, or whatever happens in the event horizon of a white hole of death. He didn’t know how he knew, but that didn’t matter shit. He knew, and he knew he knew. 

Which left the conundrum: “Am I going into infinite time?” – well, do you feel lucky, punk? – ’cause I ain’t.