There is no me. I do not exist. There used to be a me but I had it surgically removed.
We are not an endangered species ourselves yet, but this is not for lack of trying.
The ultimate acting is to destroy yourself.
How can I dispose of myself with it?
Experience as well as common sense indicated that the most reliable method of avoiding self-extinction was not to equip oneself with the means to accomplish it in the first place.
Or shall I go out as a light does, not first blown out by the wind, but grown tired and weary of itself - a burnt out light? Or finally, shall I blow myself out, so as not to burn out?
A self-advertising writer is always a self-extinguished writer.
Maybe the honorable thing for our species to do is deny our programming, stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction, one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.
If mankind is to escape its programmed self-extinction the God who saves us will not descend from the machine: he will rise up again in the human soul.
