Survivor
Apr 27, 2015 0:03:31 GMT -5
Post by Max on Apr 27, 2015 0:03:31 GMT -5
“Survival of the fittest.”
The words hang in the air for a moment, before the slimmest of smirks crosses the man’s face, fading almost as quickly as it appeared. he reclines, an elbow resting on his knee...almost relaxed.
“It’s what you’re supposed to embody, isn’t it? The very tenet of the misbegotten theory of an old fool who shares your namesake. Those who are most worthy or...deserving being the ones who thrive. The strong overtaking the weak, leaving the lesser behind like...like wheat, separated from the chaff. That’s you. The fit. The strong. The survivor.”
A shake of his head, chuckling.
“It’s a shame you’ve been living a lie.”
A pause for a moment, fingers flexing a few times.
“This...doctrine you live by. Just words. Words and wasted breath. All of these philosophies, these theories...none of them have any meaning. None of it is right or wrong. There’s not going to be any vindication for you in the end, Darwin. Not for you, not for anyone else. You aren’t the fit. You aren’t the strong…
Because there are no such things. No weak to be subjugated. No strong to rise above, and rule with an iron fist. No wheat, to separate from the chaff. We’re all just...meat, man. Meat for the grinder. Some of us, we may end up a little bit ahead now and again...But in the end, it’s meaningless. We all end up in the grinder. Some of us just go quicker than others, that’s all. Not because we’re stronger. Not because we’re fit. Not because we’re survivors. Simply because...that’s the way of things. People bleed, people suffer, people die. The world keeps on spinning, right up til that moment when the world burns out. Nobody wins the game, Darwin. Nobody gets to be the one most fit to survive…
Because there will be no survivors.”
A momentary pause, to let the words sink in.
“You aren’t the fit, man. You aren’t the strong. You aren’t the one who gets to rise up, cast down all the weaker ones….and be the winner in this game of life. You are not the heir to the throne your namesake’s theory has professed throughout the ages. There is no throne to be had. You aren’t the lone survivor, Darwin…
You’re just…
meat.”
Another pause.
“Meat for the grinder. Just like Nem. Just like Harbinger. Just like Spencer Vain and just like Hans Kuntz. Just like all the rest…
Just like me.
Only difference is, the end of the line comes a little bit later for me than it does for you. Otherwise...Just...meat.
Waiting to be ground up. Consumed. Forgotten.
Erased.
This is the way the story ends, Darwin. Not with triumph. Not with proof positive that you were the one above all others. There’s no grand reward for any of us, and none of these...moments of conquest will mean a thing when it’s all said and done. When I crush you, take solace in the fact that none of it means anything in the end. It’s just...the way of things.
Simple as.
So this is it, man. Where the lie comes to the end for you. Where the theory gets disproven, once and for all.
Sorry to burst your bubble, Darwin…
But the truth is, none of us is fit to survive.”
The words hang in the air for a moment, before the slimmest of smirks crosses the man’s face, fading almost as quickly as it appeared. he reclines, an elbow resting on his knee...almost relaxed.
“It’s what you’re supposed to embody, isn’t it? The very tenet of the misbegotten theory of an old fool who shares your namesake. Those who are most worthy or...deserving being the ones who thrive. The strong overtaking the weak, leaving the lesser behind like...like wheat, separated from the chaff. That’s you. The fit. The strong. The survivor.”
A shake of his head, chuckling.
“It’s a shame you’ve been living a lie.”
A pause for a moment, fingers flexing a few times.
“This...doctrine you live by. Just words. Words and wasted breath. All of these philosophies, these theories...none of them have any meaning. None of it is right or wrong. There’s not going to be any vindication for you in the end, Darwin. Not for you, not for anyone else. You aren’t the fit. You aren’t the strong…
Because there are no such things. No weak to be subjugated. No strong to rise above, and rule with an iron fist. No wheat, to separate from the chaff. We’re all just...meat, man. Meat for the grinder. Some of us, we may end up a little bit ahead now and again...But in the end, it’s meaningless. We all end up in the grinder. Some of us just go quicker than others, that’s all. Not because we’re stronger. Not because we’re fit. Not because we’re survivors. Simply because...that’s the way of things. People bleed, people suffer, people die. The world keeps on spinning, right up til that moment when the world burns out. Nobody wins the game, Darwin. Nobody gets to be the one most fit to survive…
Because there will be no survivors.”
A momentary pause, to let the words sink in.
“You aren’t the fit, man. You aren’t the strong. You aren’t the one who gets to rise up, cast down all the weaker ones….and be the winner in this game of life. You are not the heir to the throne your namesake’s theory has professed throughout the ages. There is no throne to be had. You aren’t the lone survivor, Darwin…
You’re just…
meat.”
Another pause.
“Meat for the grinder. Just like Nem. Just like Harbinger. Just like Spencer Vain and just like Hans Kuntz. Just like all the rest…
Just like me.
Only difference is, the end of the line comes a little bit later for me than it does for you. Otherwise...Just...meat.
Waiting to be ground up. Consumed. Forgotten.
Erased.
This is the way the story ends, Darwin. Not with triumph. Not with proof positive that you were the one above all others. There’s no grand reward for any of us, and none of these...moments of conquest will mean a thing when it’s all said and done. When I crush you, take solace in the fact that none of it means anything in the end. It’s just...the way of things.
Simple as.
So this is it, man. Where the lie comes to the end for you. Where the theory gets disproven, once and for all.
Sorry to burst your bubble, Darwin…
But the truth is, none of us is fit to survive.”