A Simple Question

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What is a life worth?

It used to be worth as much as what it took to extinguish it: for John F. Kennedy, his fee was a bullet that probably weighed less than 10 grams. For Napoleon, the great emperor of history, his fee was a small handful of arsenic, about 200 milligrams.

And then, the answer to this question, I found deep inside my mind. My answer, anyway.

A life is worth nothing.

It is worth nothing, because another can always replace it. Humans die, and are replaced. After all, what are we better at than spreading ourselves and our filth across the world, the universe?

This answer satisfied me for a while, and I locked it away in a small box, full of the answers to great questions that have always puzzled humans, deep inside my psyche.

Then you came along.

With your sense of 'justice' against mine, I watched as you slowly unravelled the threads of deceit, intent on casting down this so-called 'God' from their high seat above the simple humans which they saw fit to persecute, while that person was, even then, beside you, bound to you by a chain, as a puppet is to its master. But I was no mere puppet. I wanted this, to be close to you, so I could orchestrate your downfall. I am, in fact, the master, and you, the puppet, were moving according to my will.

So when I stood over your fallen body, that question that had been locked away suddenly surfaced again; what was your life worth? The weight of the pen and paper that took away your life, even as you gazed at me with realization in your eyes? Or was it worth nothing, as I had previously thought, because another could always replace you?

Kneeling down beside your body, cradling it even as your soul left its vessel and started on its journey to the country of Death, I found that my chest, no, my heart, was in pain. Why was it hurting this much? It wasn't supposed to hurt.

And it was then that I realized something; my answer was wrong. The answer I probably knew all along, but I rejected it in favour of one that made more sense to me. Some lives - yours especially… cannot be replaced, because they are precious, unique.

Some lives are worth more than I can possibly describe.

[end]

A/N: Please tell me what you think of the story. I would appreciate it.