Extended ending fanfiction!

(In finding John's corpse after the events at the end of Chapter 18)

Helicopter blades rocked the feet in fleeting motions of as they encircled close and far around John. The lighthouse was the compass housing to John's compass needle, and the sky was an open-faced sighting wire to lead the helicopters to him. The heather had turned to stinging nettles. The salt spray of the water was blood and mustard water. He couldn't overdose on the soma itself, but he could feel helpless to its power. He was poisoned with ideas and left to writhe in convulsions and agony of thoughts. He was helpless to its formless imitations of happiness and helpless to a world that would address him so politely as "Mr. Savage." The "Mister" a title of politeness to ease the burdens of incompatibility, and the "Savage" to remind him that he is without a name to civilization: an abomination of monogamy and Arabian trees and mothers. When they found him, they would question what would have been inside of that garden of mind that John had established with independent thoughts: a garden whose trees and flowers had been broken by their helicopter blades. It left behind only gnashed trunks and withered bloom. And they could see, as they finally ascended those lighthouse stares, a soul leaving a body and a soulless gaze's reflection on a world that could not contain a human being as it once existed in nature. Thus, it is the nature of the Savage to behave as reasonable as one never exposed to embryos or Orgy-Porgys could be. Thus, civilization will reflect on its past ways as incompatible with the current state of affairs for the betterment of society's happiness, productivity, and lasting human legacy. The Ford machine would never afford any less.