“How many people, “ Christophorou asked gravely, “all through
this world, see nothing ahead for them?
Life is meaningless, a cruel joke where injustice is made into law, and
religion only talks about the next world.
But what about this world, where a man has twenty, thirty, forty years
to live? In conditions he never made or
chose or wanted? Where he sees no hope
of ever struggling free? Why must he
live like this? The fools never ask that
question; they are animals, willingly
caged. But the men who do ask it find
only one answer. They may hide it deep
within them. But the answer is there,
waiting. Destroy everything that has
trapped us, caged us, made life meaningless.
All gods have died, reason disappeared from this world, leaving only one
sovereign force – the Absurd. Destroy,
and build anew.”
“And that’s their fallacy.
They are already trapped in their own cage.”
Christophorou looked at
him sharply.
Strang said, “A nihilist believes in nothing. A man who believes in nothing cannot build
anything. Therefore, a nihilist can
reduce everything to chaos, but he can only keep living in chaos.”
“I think you must do a
little more reading on the subject of nihilism.”
“Perhaps,” said Strang equably, but he hadn’t expected that
kind of remark from Christophorou. That
was always one way of dealing with a point that wasn’t too easy to answer. It was the kind of reply you’d be given at a
dinner party where a self-appointed expert was brushing aside some unexpected
opposition. “How interesting, Mr.
Strang, but I think if you were to read more on this . . .” He smiled and
shook his head.
Christophorou said, “You find nihilism amusing?”
“No.” Strang was deadly serious now.
Text: Helen MacInnes, Decision At Delphi (1960)
