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There was something seriously wrong with the world for which neither God nor his absence could be blamed.
To air differences and remain friends, the essence of civilised existence, don’t you think?’
He would work through the night and sleep until lunch. There wasn’t really much else to do. Make something, and die.
As far as the welfare of every other living form on earth was concerned, the human project was not just a failure, it was a mistake from the very beginning.
Passionate striving. And for what? Money. Respect. Immortality. A way of denying the randomness that spawned us, and of holding off the fear of death.
No one knew where he was, and no one cared.
