You're sound asleep in your comfy coffin when a tremor hits. The "bed" snaps closed (hopefully, you don't have a limb or two dangling over the edge), and your enclosure is immediately buried by the debris from your collapsing residence.
Nice.
The thought is almost enough to give me a claustrophobic panic attack. Just let Mother Nature bury me, as the Universe intended.
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Right? It's like being kept alive through extraordinary measures. If the only thing keeping me here is a tube down my throat, another tube coming out the other end and something pushing air into my body, then I'm not too interested. In my opinion, I'm already dead in that case... it's just my body hasn't got the memo yet.