Worth: to live, to be alive.

Anger: to fight, to strive.

Worthless: that am I.

Get up, go to work, get paid, eat, pay rent, marginally improve, repeat. . . Get up, go to work, get paid, eat, pay rent, marginally improve, repeat. . . Get up, go to work, get paid, eat, pay rent, marginally improve, repeat. . . Get up, go to work, get paid, eat, pay rent, marginally improve, repeat. . . Get up, go to work, get paid, eat, pay rent, marginally improve, repeat. . . Get up, go to work, get paid, eat, pay rent, marginally improve, repeat. . . Get up, go to work, get paid, eat, pay rent, marginally improve, repeat. . .

Nilaism: a belief the world is, for all intents and purposes, pointless--therefore all that is in it is as well. Life has no meaning because there is no meaning. Meaning found or constructed is not true, meaning can not be created from abject randomness and chance. Meaning found or constructed is based on forced perspective and so is not true for all. Individual meaning is lunacy: imagine a person has ascribed the belief blood increases sexual pleasure and so murders before copulation imbibing blood and using it as lubricant. We can all say this means the person is mad, or less cordially: 'fucked up'. But should this belief be so widespread as to be unanimous it is not mad, but normal--and to question it? Mad. Therefore should any outside group be substantially larger, or simply more dominant, this ritual that holds meaning for such a culture is mad; meaningless. Something that is mad is not true, something that is not true holds no true meaning, leaving meaning a sweet lie to cling to. A false hood. There is always something larger, beyond comprehension, all beliefs are falsehoods, all beliefs are lies. Except this, in a contained pond their can be a 'biggest fish', do as you wish, all will come to nothing--so anything done has no purpose, should you chose to walk: walk. But if not, do not, life as death is purposeless. *II edition introductory pamphlet of The Truth

Something cold flowed through the tributaries and eddies formed by the taut stretched skin of his emaciated form. A mocking laugh that flowed like sludge out a pipe shortly accompanied,"Oh look! The palewalker wasted his water ration! I guess he'll have to wait for tomorrow's won't he." The yawning abyss that passed for a face peered for a reaction.

The simply human sat up blankly observing the horrifying mutation of a camel, feet far to wide and soft at the base with water storing humps growing like tumors from the dusty gray flesh. A race with the fascinating feature of using hollow teeth and specialized muscles to make wind chime like sounds for communication. Leaving their name all but pronounceable. (note: all observed specimens have propensity for cruelty, even amongst each other)

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The head swiveled and chattered toward an almost gnomish figure sitting under a tent by indecipherable fluids and metals, "The translator is not functioning you #%@^&^^&#^ ~roughly translated as worm shit~ !"

The small creature waved its hands cowering, "It's working! It's working!" a surprising deep voice sounded out.

"Then why is the palewalker not responding as it should!"

"I don't... Ghaa!" The Deep tenor of the voice yelled out into the ever expanding sea of bleached grey sand as the monster shredded the gnomes left leg.

The camel immediately tensed and after a few seconds bolted off into the doones along with the entirety of the pack after a piercing tone split the air. The caravan and slaved were left, with the slaves not caged ordered to stay.

A deep rumble started to vibrate the sand, grains bouncing into the air beginning to cloud. The human takes its tattered cloak and lies the wet fabric against his mouth to filter the air and ceases to move. As the rumbling gets louder other slaves begin to cower, hyperventilate, cry, or attempt to get as high as they can, clambering on top of cages or to the top of tent poles. Soon the dust clouds are so bad the human cannot see beyond an approximation of 10 ft. The heavy rumbling and grinding drowning out all sound. 3 minutes and it was done, the rumbling stopped and the fine grey powder sifted to the ground covering everything in a glint of silver. New vales and a shattered caravan left behind. All that was where the gnome lay was a depression in the sand 5 meter (*15 ft.) in radius.

He removed the cloak from his mouth and checked the area: there was metal sharding lying in his cage, somehow finding their way into his pen during the confusion; plasticine sheet within reach, and most importantly a child looking knome wandering through the remains seemingly on the verge of tears. Carefully selecting a metal shard about the length of his hand, he tossed it in the air testing balance, with a snap of the wrist it sailed through the air imbedding itself in the childish gnomes ventricular stopping air flow, as the gnome reached up in shock a second found itself lodged into the child's wrist preventing movement. The gnome looked over in horror before curling into a ball and attempting over the course of several minutes to survive, removing the shards, curling up, and attempting to breath with a hand clutching the ventricle before slowly going dim. He then serenely through the shards out of his cage into the sand surrounding the small gnome in a haphazard manner a few lodging themselves in the bone dense frame. He them covered himself against the sun and waited.

The silence stayed tell the next morning when the camels came back, as skittish and timid they approached, the human sat up facing them.