Existence is absurd. No matter how fantastical a world is. To try and find any meaning in it at all, is a quest to find misery and discomfort. To try and make rational sense of an irrational universe is to try and answer a trick question.  One might ask, why bother? Even in a world where magic is commonplace, has been studied and has been innovated upon since the days of hunter-gatherers. Even in a world where technology is capable of completely immersing one in an alternate world indistinguishable from ours and where the power to summon consciousness out of lines of code exists. Even in a world where humanity, the supernatural and the extraterrestrial live among the stars and in the void of space, an unfortunate reality still persists. The human condition is one that is ultimately universal. One that is rife with tragedy. One rife with suffering. One rife with months of gray monotony and dullness. One that, while possessing the capacity to be filled with passion and pleasure, is something that our main character believes is beyond him. ---------------------- Probably going to be dealing with themes of depression and suicidal ideation quite a bit. Would also appreciate feedback, as this is mostly an exercise to improve on my creative writing skills.