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Basically, I’d have to try to discern whether this would be a net good or net bad thing. Maybe I’m killing someone who would die anyway. Maybe I’m killing someone who would do great things in the world. Maybe I’m killing someone who really deserves to die…I suppose I’d have no way of knowing this. Heck, if I don’t press it, will the next person who does kill the same person, or am I actually sparing someone’s life by not pressing it? You gotta think through these things, man! I see moral peril to either way of doing things, and that doesn’t even count the money. Maybe it’s part of the circle of life (cue crappy Elton John music here).Īs with all things, being an Accountant, I have to kind of do a cost/benefit/risk analysis. I mean, is this part of the cosmic rules of how things work? If I press the button am I offing someone at random, or is it the last person who pressed the button (or someone who pressed it in the past), in other words am I in some way making myself part of this pool of people? Or maybe this is the way deaths are decided…every time a button gets pressed, someone dies (and every time a bell rings, and Angel gets its wings).
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And of course the catch in the show was that after the button was swapped for cash, the button was going to go to another person, assuredly someone “they didn’t know.” Well, as it turns out, I do not want to be insane any longer.In the original version of the story, it is actually the woman’s husband who dies, and it is is explained that “she never really knew her husband.” You always have to remember, when you make a deal with the Devil, you’re going to get tricked.īut in the show version they made it pretty explicit that it wouldn’t just be “someone they didn’t know”, but “a complete stranger”. Isn’t insanity defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? We wore ourselves out wearing each other in, and we yielded the same catastrophic results day in and day out. In reality, we never wanted one another at our worst, but didn’t it hurt worse when we didn’t want each other even at our best? It could not have been more of a stereotypical mess. All along, we made up one another in our minds, in our wildest dreams. We never matured, we never progressed, and if love is kindness, all we had to offer was chaos. We were tumultuous we were the happiest accident that ever was made. But, alas, you fill my life more in your absence than your presence ever could. And at night, when I whisk myself away into dreamland, it is quite unfair to say the least: that my restless brain thinks of you for hours on end in quick, uncontrolled, pixelated images. My body reacts before my mind comprehends, and I loathe how it paralyzes me. I refresh my email and “Missing You” is in the subject line, but ah, it is so overly simplistic, the sender is simply a high-end retail store I can no longer afford. Which characteristics are partial to me, and which are exclusive to you? I have lost sight of what I hold ownership of any longer.
WOULD YOU PRESS THE RED BUTTON HOW TO
We were one for so long, that I do not know how to be just. And as I take a deep breath to restart, redirect the day, it suddenly smells of you-or is that scent merely specific to me? I can no longer differentiate between the two. No matter how much my brain clouds itself with you, I refuse to acknowledge or unpack these thoughts, as I view that sector of my life as a period in which I wish to undo.