Chapter Four
Defect
Humans are so terribly displeasing.
Dib certainly knew he was far from amiable, but sometimes it seemed as though the earth was only inhabited with pitiful, half-witted fools who would cast society's true geniuses as lunatics. The slaves corrupted by their own arrogant tendencies. Is it even possible to appreciate these creatures when they resist the very thing?
You could place before the public a small group of people being attacked, shot, stabbed, raped, killed and so fourth and the public would stand, laugh and adore the abuse given to those poor old sods.
It was disgusting, but they were noted as normal, completely sane. When the world is run by the deranged, reason turns rancid. A truth hardly recognized.
Generally speaking, of course, there are some people on earth who aren't like that, but they are few and far in-between.
Sometimes Dib would think - Did he belong here? He was not at all like the humans who shunned him; he shared more similarities with those of different breeds, something he never thought he'd admit. He had put his faith in the aberrations of who he once abhorred to see.'
"We must improve our deformity, or meet our demise"
What he thought went against what most of the human population thought. Could it be he was the insane one and the rest of the world was, in fact, sane? They say crazy people never think they are crazy, they believe they are getting saner and the sane think they are getting crazier. It could just be a reversal of that already unsteady phrase.
"Our demise?"
Every thought was so deliciously tantalizing, he wished he could stay alive longer just to be with his mind.
Within one's last moments of life they began to think of all the things they have done in life, mostly just the bad. This was God's way of torturing a person. Dib was quite aware of the horrors he committed and was far from wanting to repent.
He thought himself to be above others, better, smarter, valuable as a human. – Pride.
He over-consumed for what he thought might help him, allowing thousands to die. – Gluttony.
Through life his strongest desire was to be accepted by those of his kind. – Envy.
He fought to depose a living creature, even just in defence. – Wrath.
He would use that of trickery and manipulation to gain the material items he hoarded. – Greed.
The Cardinal Sins were not something he feared to be a slave to. What possible good could a saint even hope to do in this sinner's world? To be good you have to be evil. Yet, to be evil it is not necessary to be good. The only purpose this has is to activate the deletion of trust. The very moment you place your confidence in someone is the moment they cross you.
Although he knew of his fate he still wanted to plead for his survival, a hopeless attempt this man who kept him here had no intent of allowing him to see tomorrow. What do you say to a killer? When a knife is to you throat should you say anything at all? One could scream hateful things, because honestly no one thinks to fondly of a murderer, but is it best to anger one? One could barter with the fatal fellow, maybe if you offer him whatever you have in your pockets he'll let you go! Crying is pointless, and apparently he doesn't care how little fear you show. Although mad, he was, surprisingly interesting. He seemed to be hiding something about himself, he was untrusting and so was Dib.
"But you can call me Nny."