— You and other scientists like you., — my sister said after tasting a half cake half cookie, made with wall mold instead of yeast. — You liked to say “no fate”, implying each one chooses their own path as science liberated them. People are equal. You’re right though: they are. They’re equally fragile and meaningless. They indeed have no fate; not because of freedom, but because the bomb you made will obliterate everyone on this planet. There will be no survivors. No fate indeed.
— Wait, but…, — I replied.
— Now go. Lay down in an empty hall somewhere its not real, generated procedurally. You dying there will maybe make me forgive you.

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