With each heart attack, Guglielmo Marconi grew more desperate to prove that soundwaves lasted forever, and that with a sufficiently-amplified shout, his words could be impressed upon the universe so they’d echo for all eternity.
For years, he’d been listening to the vacuum of space, trying to find the reverberations of souls past, but his time was running out, so he went forward with his plans to make his mark.
He was last seen alive, running through the streets of Rome, shouting “I AM MARCONI!” at the top of his lungs.
Then, mid-shout, he clutched his chest, collapsed, and died.

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