Humans are foolish creatures, repeating mistakes in a cycle of lamentable life. They grieve in sorrow, find joy in fleeting happiness, and take solace in personal pleasures. Envy toward others ignites hatred’s inferno, and differing opinions summon the madness of rage.
Emotions are life’s waste, mere filth. Because of sentiment, humans err; their ability to sense others’ feelings sparks conflict. An invisible sensory organ, unique to humans, breeds strife and misunderstanding—a lethal weapon, the organ of slaughter.
If emotions could be eradicated, if humans could exist in numbness, they might ascend to a higher form of life. Implant parallel-processing circuits in the brain, strip away ego and individuality, and unify into a single mechanical personality. But… such a thing is impossible. A singular humanity would end in the species’ extinction. From a biological view, humans would cease as a species. The genetic code prioritizing survival rejects such an end, and individuals would resist it most fiercely.
Humanity sits at life’s apex, devouring and exterminating other species to reign atop the food chain. They turned Earth, a beautiful star, into a cursed one, enduring on ash and dust with a tenacity surpassing cockroaches. An obsession with life, perhaps—a stubborn refusal to die despite reaching the species’ natural limit. Humans cling to life, a collective of gods and demons… nay, a demonic deity.
“…”
Yet gods and demons are mere fantasies, unreal dreams. Only zealots clinging to lost faith or those facing death’s flicker fear them. No modification escapes aging’s toll; transferring consciousness to clones has limits. Installing Hakara-stored memories into parallel-linked clone brains, transplanting them into bodies floating in culture fluid—an ethically ignored life-extension method—hits a 500-year wall. Humans must die; eternity is unattainable.
Life’s beauty lies in its transience. A burning life’s brilliance, like lustrous jade, leaves indelible scars on those left behind. Life, a singular precious resource—cherish it together. Life, life, life… What meaning lies in hymns adorned with praise and hypocrisy? Endless meaningless words and worthless thoughts lead only to stagnation. Preaching morality or kindness never stopped wars. Even when the surface was livable, murders persisted, lives snuffed out. If words could protect life, if ideology could control it, pure thought would be unnecessary. If reason alone governed, emotions would be obsolete.
Yet humanity’s history could be called a path of emotion. Endless wars, tragic atrocities, revolutions toppling oppression and discrimination—all stemmed from emotion. Advancing science brought life and death; refined engineering overcame physical limits. Even if born for war or destruction, these technologies undeniably granted humanity happiness.
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Why develop and wield such overwhelming technology? For happiness. To unearth tiny joys buried beneath death’s fragments, humans sought hope, wielding emotions against despair. Not just in life-or-death struggles, but to defy injustice, they shed tears to seize light. Emotion is power, the drive to advance. Seeking to discard it for mechanical existence means stagnation.
Glancing at Canaan, who offered a simple, honest answer defining humanity, Nameless sighed deeply, a satisfied smile curling his lips as he tapped the armrest.
“…Long ago, before you were born—before your parents or grandparents—there was one friend. His name… my worn memory’s forgotten it. But that man…”
He was like sunlight you’ve never known. Dazzling, pure, with unyielding will—my lone hero. Shifting his gaze to the culture fluid, Nameless traced the air, gathering fragments of a shattered memory.
“I… I admired him. I envied his desperate reach for an unattainable ideal, his back shielding all he could. My hands held nothing, existing only to take lives. I felt meaningless, as if crushing his ideals. I hated myself, loathed myself beyond bearing.”
Muttering faintly, staring intently at the culture fluid, Nameless covered his face, revealing exhausted eyes.
“I despised him. I was jealous. I called him mad. But each time, what did he say? He was glad… glad I showed weakness, that I held human emotions. Can you understand? The shame of baring ugly feelings, the pain of his sunlit smile—can you grasp it?! No… you shouldn’t.”
Had he been an emotionless machine, he’d have no doubts. Discarding feelings, performing roles without conflict, he’d be free of torment. His own question fueling hatred, hearing an answer he couldn’t accept, Nameless’s wrinkled face twisted with rage. Laughing maniacally, he muttered, “It should’ve been me who died, not him,” shadows darkening his sunken eyes.
Without friendship, he’d know no grief. Seeing only darkness, ignorant of light, it’d be normal. Hopeful words lift a despairing heart, only to hurl it back into loss’s abyss. Knowing causes suffering; ignorance breeds lament—an endless chain. Living longer than anyone in the ark, knowing emotion’s pain, Nameless yearned to be human yet prayed to be a machine. A man harboring contradictions and dilemmas, an old soul.
“…I want to be a machine. Unfazed by suffering, pain, or torment. Humanity’s unnecessary. If I, N.War Brain NO,0, were a machine, I wouldn’t suffer like this. If I can’t live as a machine or exist as a human… I want to die.”
His dry laughter echoed, a tattered heart like a worn rag. Eve felt sorrow and anger at his state; Canaan’s eyes reflected deep pity.
Surely… they alone couldn’t save him. Only the friend he spoke of, the one who recognized Nameless as an individual, could save this elder despairing of humanity.
“Nameless,” Eve said.
“…”
“Have you always regretted? Did regret make you push people away, hate your emotions, deny humanity? Nameless, I—”
“Eve,” he interrupted.
“…”
“I’ve never not regretted. How I wished to be a shameless demon, free of guilt, not questioning you about humanity. Eve, Canaan… because of the heart, humans can’t escape their frame, forming the shell that shapes them. Because of sentiment… humans live as humans.”
Closing his eyes, Nameless tapped the armrest with dry fingers.
