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An old man supported another old man walking down the street. They moved slowly, yet the scenery on both sides seemed to zoom past them.
“So you’re going to sleep, just like that?” Rasma asked, looking at Tiz, whom he was helping along.
“Yes.”
“And you can bear to do it?” Rasma shook his head, unable to understand.
“When you have something that truly matters, everything else stops being something you can’t part with.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” Rasma sighed. “People are selfish. Even if something is a lie, once you’ve believed it for most of your life, whether it’s true or false no longer really matters. Denying the lie is easy. What’s hard is denying yourself.”
Rasma pointed at himself. “For example, if I discovered I was wrong, I’d probably choose to keep pretending to be stupid. Wrong is wrong, so what? It’s not that big a deal.”
“I once thought the same.”
“And then?”
“And then I condensed a second godhead fragment.”
“…”
“It’s painful. Whether you believe or don’t believe, or even if you choose to avoid it and sink into passivity, it won’t let you go.”
“When you say ‘it,’ what are you referring to?”
“Order.”
“Oh. Oh.” Rasma nodded twice. “So is this what you call joyful suffering?”
“Happiness is only a surface appearance that easily fades while the pain at its core endures. Look at those three today. If it had been any other opponent provoking them, they would never have allowed such insolence to continue. The more indulgence they showed to me today, the more it proves how important...
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