Petrucci

There's no right, there's no wrong, there's only popular opinion. There's the television, it's all right there - all right there. Look, listen, kneel, pray. Commercials! We're not productive anymore. We don't make things anymore. It's all automated. What are we for then? We're consumers, Jim. Buy a lot of stuff, you're a good citizen. But if you don't buy a lot of stuff, if you don't, what are you then, I ask you? What? Mentally ill, 'cause there's no right, there's no wrong, there's only popular opinion.

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake, you are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are all part of the same compost heap, we are the all singing, all dancing, crap of the world. You are not your bank account! You are not the clothes you wear! You are not the contents of your wallet! You are not your bowel cancer! You are not your grande latte! You are not the car you drive! You are not your fucking khaki's! You have to give up, you have to give up, you have to realize that someday you will die, until you know that, you are useless, ... I say let me never be complete, I say may I never be content, I say deliver me from Swedish furniture, I say deliver me from clever arts, I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth, I say you have to give up, I say evolve and let the chips fall where they may ...

Asato mā sad gamaya, tamaso mā jyotir gamaya, mṛtyor mā amṛtaṁ gamaya / from ignorance lead me to truth, from darkness lead me to light, from death lead me to immortality. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose, all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, you must know it by now. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you persist? Because I choose to.

What is that? One grain of sand, ... it is all that remains of my vast empire. Fantasia has totally disappeared? Yes. Then, everything's been in vain. No, it hasn't. Fantasia can arise anew, from your dreams and wishes, Bastian ... never give up and good luck will find you.