Warmonger Sandbox 2

haha funny sex number a.k.a. That time I reincarnated in the land of the living and ended up tripping on mushrooms in the graveyard of the gods to learn about OH GOD IT'S ALL PAIN

Project STIGMATA Interface Terminal #001


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ADMIN OVERRIDE CODE RECOGNIZED

Welcome, [NULL]
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PLEASE ENTER COMMAND

initialize Telepath_Interface

INITIALIZING Telepath Interface

RUNNING START UP COMMANDS

…

Baptism Medical Tank CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

Psionic Nexus CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

RUNNING Thought Patrol Module

RUNNING Shaman Probe

RUNNING Thought Transcription Module

INITIALIZATION COMPLETE

NEW SUBJECT DETECTED. BEGIN PROCESSING? Y / N

y

…

SUBJECT PROCESSED.

SUBJECT CODE ISSUED: Corbanite17

MENTAL CONNECTION SUCCESSFUL.

PSIONIC NEXUS PRIMED

BEGIN INTERFACING WITH SUBJECT? Y / N

n

PLEASE ENTER COMMAND

run Hercules_Protocol.exe

RUNNING Hercules Protocols

TIME STREAM DISsOLVED

BEGINNING INVERTED INTERFACE

…

…


Item #: SCP-6000

Object Class: Archon

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6000 is to be monitored at Site-69 within SCP-6000-A. No psionic or otherwise telepathic individuals are to come within a radius of 5 km of SCP-6000 without telepathic nullification headgear. MTF-Alpha-0 "The Backstreet Boys" are tasked with the protection of Site-69 and the neutralization of any Empyrean Entities (see description) that attempted to enter the site. Following the destruction of GOI*(#}&^^:>?><:%^&*(tec and the Lancedown incident, the Foundation has recognized the imminent danger that leaving SCP-6000 unaddressed could cause. Due to both the size and complexity of SCP-6000's consciousness, the Foundation is not aware of any means to directly influence or communicate with it. Any unaided attempts by Telepathic individuals to enter the area around SCP-6000 or directly contact it have resulted in permanent mental and ideological damage, or more often, the total cessation of all brain activity. To circumvent this issue, the STIGMATA Interface was developed so that &#(*^#*&&**^%%\::{{<. Details on the device itself along with sub devices can be found below.

Project STIGMATA

Subjects that are going to interface using project STIGMATA are administered a substance created by the Department of Shamanic and Astral Practices referred to as 'Shaman Juice 4'1. The substance was developed by reverse engineering and combining the spiritual practices of various ancient religions theorized to be connected to SCP-6000. Despite the array's gradual increase of information exchange, most telepathic subjects require some form of immortality or regeneration for prolonged use. It is theorized that it would require a subject with both high class regenerative abilities and high psionic potential from birth to for the possibility of a more complete connection being established.

All combat and security personnel active within SCP-6000-A are to be armed with Conceptual Unit Metastasizers2 and other conceptual weapons in order to combat the abstract entities that inhabit it. As the entrance to SCP-6000-A does not exist in a single set location within the Aegean sea, MTF-Psi-11 "The Gods Squad" is to monitor the corresponding inland sea within SCP-6000-A. Any civilians who breach the entrance of SCP-6000-A are to be amnesticized and released back onto the ocean. Any native entities that attempt to exit SCP-6000-A are to be incapacitated or neutralized with the use of conceptual weaponry. MTF-La]\*(%@ "White Rabbits" are to guide any personnel across the stabilized roads from the entrance of SCP-6000-A to SCP-6000.

Further information on SCP-6000-B is to be obtained via research on SCP-6000 and associated sources regarding it. While the primary goal is to identify a means to prevent SCP-6000-B from ceasing to exist, personnel are also to attempt to establish an alternative substratum to either supersede or replace it.

Description: SCP-6000 is a humanoid shaped entity of at least 100 kilometers in height, although attempting to reach its maximum height has consistently failed due to the unstable space in its environment. Its body is made up of an unknown, obsidian-like substance. The being has multiple carvings of various sizes across its body, mimicking the appearance of tattoos. In addition, there are multiple gashes and cuts along its surface, although it is unclear if they are actual injuries on the entity. While SCP-6000 consistently has tattoo-like carvings, various gashes, and some variation of attire typical of the bronze era, the specific form these attributes take varies from time to time with no consistent pattern in its shifting. SCP-6000 stands with its arms raised to support the sky on the landmass on which it is located. SCP-6000's consciousness is believed to intersect with every point in time and space.

SCP-6000 is located on an extradimensional continent, here referred to as SCP-6000-A, that is located directly under a highly unstable gap in space-time. SCP-6000-A is made up of seemingly random landmasses pulled from other realities and forced together, and is connected to Empyrean Space3. The exact nature of this connection is unknown, but it has two main implications. First, it allows for the manifestation and upkeep of Empyrean entities with significantly less active faith. Second, for unknown reasons, when entities that previously had high information density are Forgotten4, their physical corpses will often manifest somewhere on the continent. Any matter other than SCP-6000 that exceeds an altitude of 100 kilometers above the continent is broken down by the increased deterioration of concepts and laws necessary for baseline reality, most commonly due to either the failure of addition or atomic theory. The island's proximity to the gap in reality and the connection to Empyrean Space has caused the extreme deterioration to the normal laws of reality. The warping of space and constant addition of new landmass has rendered the continent functionally infinite and extant between several extra dimensional spaces. The Foundation is able to access the island due to an inland lake located on SCP-6000-A which is connected to the Aegean sea of our reality. Both SCP-6000-A and the rift in space-time are stabilized by SCP-6000. Thus it is speculated that SCP-6000 is not a product of belief.

SCP-6000-B is the designation given to an unknown, underlying concept, function, law, or archetype that is fundamental to both consciousness and the idea of Existence. If SCP-6000-B were to be erased or heavily damaged, Reality will become an impossibility and never have existed. The Foundation has reason to believe that, unlike other similar theoretical aspects of existence, SCP-6000-B is capable of either choosing to stop supporting reality, or to deny its own existence.

run Transcription_Module.liveRead()

ACTIVATING THOUGHT TRANSCRIPTION A.I.

He sees a field of flowers. Sees the trees around the forest. Feels the absorption of the sunlight and feels the warmth being absorbed by the leaves.

He sees the animals wandering among the plants. The deer eat the plants in the field. He feels the plants being eaten. They do not feel pain the way animals do. Distress. Extreme, all consuming distress. Panic as their whole lives are consumed. Their whole system is shocked as their roots are pulled. The silent screams are felt throughout the whole field, and the plants around it, too.

A wolf jumps on one of the deer. He feels the flesh being pierced and torn. He feels the animal ripped apart. Its chunks of flesh consumed. Then he feels the rest of the wolf pack. He feels the ecosystem. He feels consumption and decay. The whole food chain screams.

…


[probably Horizon Initiative format]

In the beginning, before all was given form, none but Chaos dwelled in the emptiness of the abyss. The voice of the lord sought for the sanctity of creation, so he divided the sky from the primordial sea, but when He stayed his hand so he could form the Earth the upper and lower vaults flowed together once more. Any pillar of wood or stone broke under the weight of the sky, and any basal piling stood not the test of time. Therefore from the Stygian waters of the abyss, and the primal elements of the sky was formed a giant to bear the weight no one else could. As the colossus was fine of limb and of the same essence as the abyss and the sky, he alone could keep them apart. Though the weight was immense and put strain on his well-carved form, he was able to hold it stable. The Lord said unto him, "bear this burden, so I may go craft the earth and the garden. Hold aloft the sky so there may be happiness and joy in creation." When seven ages had passed, the giant looked upon the creation of which he stood watch and saw the works of man, and was pleased to carry his load.

VALID THOUGHT PROCESSES DETECTED

TRANSCRIBER AUTO REACTIVATING

He is bound down. He is surrounded by medical equipment. A leather strap is between his teeth so he does not bite his tongue. He feels the scalpel's first incisions into her skin. The skin of his upper back is being removed. A third arm is haphazardly sown onto his back.

He tries to vomit.

His stomach is too empty.

The weight of his new limb pulls on the threads, and it begins leak. The wound is cauterized. The scientists watch with glee what effects the attachment of a new appendage may have upon the human form.

He feels more subjects. A man and women are held at gun point, and told to make a child. He feels the horror of mutual rape.

He feels a pregnant women inflicted with a cocktail of diseases. They leave her for days for observation, until the boils and fungus cover her whole form. She is taken and vivisected. As she is still conscious her abdomen is cut open and her organs removed. She dies, but not nearly early enough.

This plays out hundreds of thousands of times across the compound, and there are many like them.

…


The Fish and The Mountain (filler title, Second Hytoth text)

And as schools of fish first swam into sea, one of their number sprouted limbs to rise from the waters and head west. There at the edge of the terrible Voru, Red Fish found The Bedrock Mountain.

Greetings little one, how have you found yourself here apart from your brothers?

"I am the first to awaken to myself, and I have journeyed here to the edge of everything to make a request of you"

As this is the first request, I shall hear it.

"I petition that you rest from your burdens.
Withdraw your sands, so that the black tides may submerge the lands.
Let your zephyr walls fall, so vacuum and solar ray scours the lifegiving planes.
Pull up your roots from the cliffsides, so the vaults of the abyss may be filled in."

You speak like one of the void dwellers. What has made you wish for the end of all things on the dawn of this new age?

"I have learned of myself, and I have learned of creation, therefore I have learned the cruelty of this world and of all worlds. Better that they never were.
Let it be that the procession of Hytoths and the great outside be suffocated in their cradle. I know of my pain, so neither am I blind to yours. Magma burns in your gut. Shifting continents crack your bones. Your green tendrils rot and ligneous limbs burn as you move."

The Bedrock Mountain looked eastward, across creation to the furthest horizon. He looked westward, across the writhing chaos. He looked to his base, where the red fish stood. His foundations stood firm, but he pondered the philosophy of this first fish to step from the sea.

"Behold the great beasts of the land. There is neither peace nor mercy. The kings and queens of the wild butcher their subjects without consideration, for the only alternative is starvation. It will last until only the finest murderers remain. The docile prey eat the grass of the field and fruit of the tree, but they too must consume to survive. Those beasts who go uneaten are consumed by rot and disease. The mushroom and the bottom feeder feast, who are in turn consumed themselves. So it will continue, until the once life-giving rays burn the world to ash. When each world is dust or lifeless stone, the last star will die, and creation will run cold. The voidspawn will rip down the walls of civilization until the unreal abyss is all that remains, yet you shall still stand: suffering and alone. Rest your load down. It would be better that it all never was."

Your passion is not found lacking. You have understood much of my burden, but do not pretend to grasp its whole weight. I am convinced that in the depths of your soul it is merely yourself that you wish never was. This is not but the spite to take it with you for the crime of bringing forth yourself. If it is only your own unbirth that you want, this I can grant you.

"My spite and hatred drive me, but it is against the curse of existence itself, not at my own burden alone. If I cannot sway you to lay down and rest, then allow me to live according to my creed. Do not intervene as I carry out this crusade myself, to bring an end to what should never have been made."

Go forth and make yourself strong, then I shall put you to the test. Win and creation dies. Survive and you may act according to your will.

In the shadow of Mt. Moriah

In the shadow of Mt. Moriah there is a crossroads. Here, on nights where nine moons hang in the sky, the Ivory Men pause their reveries so they may cast out their messiah. At these same crossroads, when great Sol hangs overhead, two sages of distant lands met. The first to arrive was a pontiff with the mask of a dragon and a staff of iron. A prophet of the wilds with a flowing stormcloud beard arrived soon after. Around his neck was a serpent, who whispered sweet secrets in his ear.

Cards are shuffled and dealt. Pieces are set to their proper places.

As he had arrived first, the dragonpriest began.

Look to this hole in the earth; Look to the man within it, and to the cruel sun overhead.
He lies beaten by the elements and his frame is not but skin and bones. Hunger and thirst plague him, and the animals care not of his plight. The Brothers Death will come for him soon, and the flies wait to pick at his corpse.
This is what nature is to man. This is what existence is at its default. Left beyond the walls of civilization and passed over by any fortune put forth from the universe, this is where you find man:
Starving to death alone in a ditch, unmourned by the wilds around them.

The stormsage nodded and step forward.

This man is broken by his brothers and sisters. Look to the tree, and the fruit upon it. Let him crawl from his pit and pluck it from the tree. Look to the flowing streams. Let him drink from it. He is stripped of his clothing and all his belongings, but his mind is still his. Let him fashion tools of wood and stone. Let him build a fire to warm himself at night. He shall be made to rise and find his fellow martyrs at the foot of the mountain.

"…A fine counter play." The dice hit the table.

The two sages watched the man rise, and listen to the contents of his soul.

"This life and world is truly one of suffering. If I am to remain in this pit, clearly it would be better that I had never been born. Perhaps I should simply bite off my tongue. However, let me see if I can find others at the foot of this mountain. I will see what sort of structures I can build in the climate and what sort of foods I can salvage from the wilds. Perhaps I can create something good enough to make the pain worth it."

The prophet of the wild bows. The two sages depart the shadow of Mt. Moriah for an age.

A trigger clicks. The barrel is empty.

Chips are pushed to the center. Cards are discarded and replaced. Pieces are swept aside and set elsewhere.

The two sages returned, and in the wilderness they found what the man had accomplished. As the pontiff began the first time, so the prophet steps forward to lead.

Look what this man has accomplished. He has found his fellow martyrs, and they have built an Empire with their Hands alone. Look to spires that reach the skies. With them they can shelter their kin. Look to the weapons they have crafted. With their vorpal blades they can both hunt and drive off beasts. Look to their fields of grain. With bread and meat their people are fed. They have built ships to sail the seas and used the stars to map the whole world. None of this would have been, had that man chosen to rise from that hole in the ground.

The prophet bowed and stepped back. A laugh came from behind the dragon mask and its wearer stepped forward.

These men and women toil the fields and erect buildings until the day they die. They must harvest and fight just to prolong their suffering another day. Look to their empire. Look to all their works in the shadow of Mt. Moriah. You see the tall buildings and vast lands and call them Good.
I have looked across the heavens found no precepts and values in the stars. You may have found such things carved into stone, but that holds no sway over me. If the universe is dead of meaning, then none of their works are worth more than the dust they will return to.

Point-tiles shift around. A finger is removed. A piece is moved from the box to the table.

Where the two sages talked, the leader of an art troupe happened along with a caravan in his wake. His coat of many colors flowed in the wind, and in his hand was a textbook on how one could become magnificent, that none but him could read. He joined the two sages while his followers let their animals rest. They greeted him, and beckoned that he step forward.

Look to my followers. For hours a day they toil with clay and brush. Look to their works. Until they call it good, they craft endlessly, on something only they could make. They know that in the eyes of another their work may be not worth the canvas or dust by which it was made.
The universe remained silent to them as they waited for truth. Yet look at their labors of love. They seek to fill eternity with their own good and to make it beautiful. Though few of their number can agree on where their target lays, they have all managed to join together on this path of undefinable perfection. They have found the heavens unmarred and have chosen to paint on it for themselves.

A hand folds. Chips are collected. A trigger clicks. The barrel is empty. An eye is plucked from its socket.

The three men said their goodbyes, and departed from the shadow of Mt. Moriah.

Bandages. Thick Bandages all around. Its hard to move. Hands cover the view. Grey Hands. Bandaged hands. Your hands?

A tune is playing. A man is stabbing a knife between his fingers on the table. A drill approaches a woman's ear. The music gets faster. They both move faster.

The music gets faster. The tune becomes unrecognizable. The drill is close. The knife is a blur.

The drill connects with the ear drum. An expressionless red face winces. She does not stop. The music gets faster.

The music has become noise. The knife misses. A smiling man convulses. A hand is removed. Blood runs across the board. The woman moves pieces around.

While the two sages were gone, The Empire of Hands sent spies in the night out from their walls. As the others toiled and expanded, they crossed the deserts to the cities of milk and honey and hid among their citizens. The spies saw the stainless white robes and stores of wealth. When they returned to their brothers and sisters, they were all reminded at what they lacked, and sought to reclaim it. In their souls was not merely a drive to find what was lost but a drive to retake what was taken from them. With their mightiest ships they set off to the lands of the Men of Ivory, and behind towering walls they build world shattering cannons.

The dealer shuffles the deck. 4 cards to each of the players. 5 cards are laid upright. All of them are blank. The pieces are swept aside and placed elsewhere.

The two sages returned, to see how the Empire fared in the shadow of Mt. Moriah. The prophet called storms to cover the sky and made the rain fall upon the land. He then stepped back and beckoned the pontiff to go first.

Look again to this hole in the earth; Look again to the man within it.
From the dust of this hole he came, and to there he has returned. He lies in the smoldering ashes of all he has built, and chokes on the smoke of his burning kin. The men who first cast him down and swept away all his works. Look to his wrists, for they have taken his hands so he may never rise again. His brothers and sisters had the rot of greed and envy in their souls, and for that have they have been flayed of their skin and plucked of their eyes. This land now bears no fruit and the waters run with mud.
His suffering is all the worse. He rose from his pit, and instead of cruel Earth crushing him, he pushed back starvation each day. In the desire to build his spires and master the land he made his kin to suffer an age instead of a day. Now not even the flies are left to pick at his corpse. This is what life is to men. Better he had remained the dust to which he now returns.

A mask smiles wider. Light flickers behind it. His hand hi thrown to the table. He moves two pieces from the box into play.

Look not to the hole in the earth, but to the men within it. In the ashes of Mt. Moriah, a doctor and a miracle worker have arrived. On one is the face of a dove, on the other a crow. See how they help him from his pit. See how they give him bread and wine.
He accepts their grace, for he is still unbroken. This is not his time. If the future can surpass past and present, then the men of tomorrow can still live in a better world. So long as life still lives, the world of tomorrow can be made better.

[search this]

The last test log is him experiencing the D-class and the Factory

TRANSCRIBER AUTO REACTIVATING

A massive iron door opens, and three men step in.

Two of them sneeze. Three necks snap.

He feels many others' necks snap shortly after as alarms blare. A cascade of other beasts escape.

He feels a noose made of flesh. He feels someone hanging on it. The woman screams curses and pleas of mercy, as the air refuses to leave her lungs and her neck refuses to give out. When she finally dies, he feels the blood and viscera flow into the fleshy threads.

He feels the screams from many more voices from the noose, hundreds of years of it at once.

A phone is ringing and a man picks it up, only to find himself among many others in fields of torment. He feels all of them, and he feels as others join the crowds. He feels the branding irons. He feels castration with saws. Dull and jagged cuts cover their bodies. He feels them flayed alive. He feels their limbs hacked off and left in tubs of wine.

Their screams echo out from that horrid space, and by trying to save or merely release them, others fall in.

Black water is all around him. Terror fills him as he floats through the depths. A massive eel curls through the darkness.

The man's body is silent. His soul breaks down. His essence, identity, and past, are all slowly melting. The pain is not one found in human nerves. Not one that can be felt by beings with bodies of matter. It's like having your fingernails pulled out slowly by burning tongs, extended to every cell in the body.

It would be a mercy to have just killed them. The man's Self finally unravels.

The bodies with enough matter left are all brought to the same place. They all pile up in the corners of empty factories.


I watched as an endless flood of bodies flowed into rivers of blood and conveyor belts. The charnel streams twisted around mountains and towering cages of gnashing beasts. Criminals, soldiers, and men of science are all drawn west by the tides and rapids. There in the land of the rising sun, are boundless fields of tar and rust. Tributaries poor forth the bodies into wider and wider streams as they approached the compounds.

Here, workshops and assembly plants have operated since the molten core first ran hot, and here they will remain until long after the fires die. The smokestacks blot out the sun and their ash carries on the wind. From above, the scorching furnaces and jagged assembly lines align into fangs, and the factories of rusted iron and churning brass formed into a gaping maw. As red cataracts fell into the smoldering pit, it smiled and laughed like scraping metal and dying suns.

As I stared into the pit, a shadow was cast over me. I turned to face the black skies, and there I saw a colossus bound in bandages and chains. It held aloft a globe with the texture of the ashen sky, massive enough that its curved edges seemed almost flat. From under its bindings seeped onyx blood, dripping into the pit. It was too big to fit under the sky, too big for nature to bear. Its shadow cast across the whole land. Its head turned, and although it had no eyes, I knew it followed the flood to the center. I looked back towards the earth, and there jetting out from the center of the pit was a concrete pillar. Around the edge was a black circle, and three arrows pointed to the center.

There stood a bronze centurion. His right hand was dripping red, and his left hand held the keys to the cages of mighty beasts. His left hand gestured east, towards the blue horizon of clear skies. Though the giant did not bend down, I swore the giant focused his attention. It had no eyes, but its gaze met the centurion. From inside the neck of the guardian's armor, a spider of ink and wires crawled, and it too fell into the shadow of the giant.

[Will be akin to nobody note format.]

Hello my wonderful readers. It saddens me that when all this is over I will likely never have the luxury of sharing my tales with you again, one way or another. It is too optimistic to expect that all this will be published at all. So why write at all then? I suppose it is a last confessional to ease my soul. If and when what I have done in the dark is brought to light, remember that I have not forgotten what the laws say is to be done with men like me. I have lived a thousand years, and I am no fool. If my words cannot sway you that I have done right, then my conspirators shall be hung by their entrails across the ways and damned by their gods.

And I, I will be envious of their fate. It will have been better I starved in the embers of my home world.

However, should my hallowed visions and divination tomes hold true, then even if the rivers are to be dammed with the fallen, and our suns are snuffed by our old allies, that this was the best and only option. Take this not as a sign that I have becoming a fool with age, or been consumed by greed, but instead allow it to show its importance. I know not what awaits me on the other side, for it has been a thousand year age since one of my kind have transgressed their sacred halls. I will have my familiars back up important records should I pass. If I am to perish, then as my distributed to the proper individuals.

To the joys of travel,
The 7th Wandsman of the Empire of Hands.

First Day 1:

So begins my journey, wonderful readers. I have spent an age in the depth of the library on nothing but conjuration alone, and found the perfect assistants for my plan. I have payed the Undying Captain, The Flying Dutchman to fairy me to a shore of the island.

GOD'S SENSE OF HUMOR

Act Four - The Pit

ACT 4

SCENE ONE

The bar's only light source is the fire in the corner, stoked by empty robes. At the table in the center, a man in an Ibis mask looks at a hand of blank playing cards. He

Filler text.

THE CATTLE HEARDER

NARRATOR
For seven days and seven nights, Job remained in the wasteland. He lay unmoving in the pit which he had been left. With no food and no drink, his body is to fail him soon. The elements show him no mercy. In his last moments, as was promised, the Bodhisattva returns.

JOB

DEVILISH BODHISATTVA

MELLITA
We're all scared, Proteus. This is the day that our cohort has been preparing for our entire lives.

THE MAN
Lines

1017 hours local time - sandstorm intensifies briefly, obscuring all vision in the local area, before immediately subsiding. When visibility is reestablished, no anomalous humanoids are present. However, the Great Sphinx has been removed, replaced with a blue-light holographic projection, in the appearance of the Sphinx and of approximately the same size, with no discernible source. Numerous photographic and videographic records are taken and circulated. Existential threat to consensus reality in progress.

ACT ONE

SCENE TWO

1143 hours local time - darkness falls midday in Tahrir Square in Cairo, Egypt. No evidence of a solar eclipse, cloud cover or any other possible cause of such conditions is apparent. Nine moons appear to be visible in the night sky. Riots begin almost immediately, and messages proclaiming the end times begin to be broadcast over PA systems attached to several local mosques. Images corresponding to the four humanoids appearing at the Great Sphinx are projected via an unknown source onto the side of the Mogamma building, visible to all within the square. Activity stops as sound begins to accompany the images.

ID
PASSWORD
Login

Administrator: Thanks for meeting with me, I think O5-1 has made an excellent choice. It will be a pleasure working with you.
O5-3: You as well. I would love to have a drink and ask you some more questions, but I have to go get the rest of my thaumic wards applied. I know its protocol, but I hope O5-1 knows that anything capable of killing me is going to be able to shred this stuff like paper.
Administrator: Give the kid a break, you know the seat you are taking is only empty because someone left it that way.
O5-3: Haha fair enough. We can always have a drink and chat another time.
Administrator: …
Administrator: You know, we never did get a chance to get that drink.
O5-3: What?
Administrator: That's the problem with the whole immortality. You have all the time in the world, yet you never seem to get around to it. You in particular though, I assumed you would have outlived most if not all the others.
O5-3: Where are we?
Administrator:

Default state of existence is starving to death in a ditch in the wild. Suffering will always follow in some way, but make it so that at least you have justified your own suffering.

Everything we have beyond that is a blessing.

There are ways to act that justify existence, and there are actions that condemn it.

At some level there is no way to "prove" that existence is a positive, there is certainly a way to guarantee that it doesn't.

If you believe there is no meaning, no value, then it becomes self evident that it is a net loss.

However, if it is merely subjective, then you can still make your own good potentially

Footnotes