{"sf1_id":836214,"sf2_id":"J1OVlNPn","title":"Measurement","author":"diethylether","words":3996,"posted_at":"2015-03-22T22:11:00.000Z","tags":["Character Development","Crocodile","Sad","Transformation"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/836214-measurement","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/J1OVlNPn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/28/bd/28bd8c12-7522-4ce4-9402-c10796fbe514","description":"Another oldie, this one is safe for work. Wanted to experiment a bit and go for 2deep4u. Not sure if the result is any decent but I can't say I didn't try. Won't make me any less of a failure as a writefag, but at least it'll make it easier to sleep at night.","content":"THE MAN\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;On a remote, peaceful fishing village, there is a bask of crocodiles. The local\u0026nbsp;\n\nlake is their home and there they spend all their days. One of these crocodiles however,\u0026nbsp;\n\nis different from the others, for it has a mind, and that is what set it apart. One can not\u0026nbsp;\n\ntell which one is it, for it is not any different in behavior or appearance than any other of\u0026nbsp;\n\nthem, but that does not change the fact that one of them has thoughts.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; It was once a man; a humble fisherman, with a loving wife and a cozy lifestyle.\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe would just spend his days fishing, as it was enough to provide food and money for\u0026nbsp;\n\nhis family. He didn't have any real hobbies or big aspirations, from childhood he was\u0026nbsp;\n\nraised with the knowledge that he would spend his life providing for the village and if\u0026nbsp;\n\nthat was enough for all his ancestors, it should be enough for him. He had a few regrets,\u0026nbsp;\n\nhere and there, but overall he was content with his life. There were not a lot of things to\u0026nbsp;\n\ndo in the village, so fishing and sleeping were his favorite activities, followed closely by\u0026nbsp;\n\neating and talking to his friends. One of his few regrets was his marriage, as he no\u0026nbsp;\n\nlonger loved his wife. She however still loved him, and so he simply could not bring\u0026nbsp;\n\nhimself to end their marriage. It did not help at all that divorces were unheard of in his\u0026nbsp;\n\nvillage. He just lived life day after day, sufficiently content that he was still alive.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; And then he was a crocodile, simple as that. He himself does not know how it\u0026nbsp;\n\nhappened. One afternoon he was lazily sitting by the lake, gazing at the stars when he\u0026nbsp;\n\nsuddenly thought about swimming a little before returning home. He passed out as soon\u0026nbsp;\n\nas he dived and woke up in his new form. One could say he had died and reincarnated,\u0026nbsp;\n\nif it were not for the lack of a proper corpse or how he still had what remained of his\u0026nbsp;\n\nclothes on. It is not however not entirely wrong to say he had died; he had lost his\u0026nbsp;\n\nhuman life, forever unable to return. He was confused. He had no recollection of what\u0026nbsp;\n\nhappened after he dived, and only after a few minutes he realized something was\u0026nbsp;\n\ndifferent. Why am I on all fours? Why does the ground seem higher? What's wrong\u0026nbsp;\n\nwith my mouth? What is that at the end of my back? All the questions filled his mind at\u0026nbsp;\n\nonce, but he could not come up with a single logical answer. There was no proper\u0026nbsp;\n\nexplanation for any of that, so he concluded he must have been dreaming. Attempting to\u0026nbsp;\n\npinch himself led to his discovery that his arms were a lot shorter than he remembered.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; He tried turning his head to look at his arm but to avail. And then it hit him. He tried\u0026nbsp;\n\nopening his mouth and as he expected, it opened far and wide, and he found himself\u0026nbsp;\n\nlooking upwards. He already had a good idea of what he was by this point, but he just\u0026nbsp;\n\nneeded visual confirmation, just to be sure. He did not bother to try and look at the\u0026nbsp;\n\nwater, as he knew he would probably be unable to properly look down, so he went to\u0026nbsp;\n\nlook for any nearby reflective surface. At first movement proved to be somewhat\u0026nbsp;\n\ndifficult, as he was not used to the shape of his body or his limbs, but slowly he started\u0026nbsp;\n\ngetting accustomed to it. He lost his clothes while attempting to walk for the first time,\u0026nbsp;\n\nbut it did not bother him, as he no longer had any use for them. He roamed near the lake\u0026nbsp;\n\nin search of any surface he could use to see himself, but there was no surface he could\u0026nbsp;\n\nuse in his current height. He eventually saw a light in the woods and for whatever\u0026nbsp;\n\nreason felt compelled to check it out. It was a father camping with his son. He never had\u0026nbsp;\n\na son. Never felt any need to. He did sometimes consider it but his wife definitely did\u0026nbsp;\n\nnot want it, and he never really felt like fighting over it. He slowly approached the\u0026nbsp;\n\nfamily, still struggling to move efficiently. The father was distracted telling the son a\u0026nbsp;\n\nstory and the son was equally distracted listening to it. Fate, being the card it is, thought\u0026nbsp;\n\nit would be hilarious if that horror story just happened to be about killer crocodiles. It\u0026nbsp;\n\nwas not all that hilarious however when the son noticed the reptile approaching his\u0026nbsp;\n\nfather from behind. \"Look dad!\" he screamed and pointed. The man turned around and\u0026nbsp;\n\nscreamed in terror \"Holy shit a crocodile!\"\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe crocodile itself was caught by surprise with that scream. He was not entirely sure of\u0026nbsp;\n\nwhat he was up to this point, so at least that finally confirmed his suspicions; he was in\u0026nbsp;\n\nfact a crocodile. As the father rushed into the tent and grabbed a large knife, the\u0026nbsp;\n\ncrocodile realized he was in danger and did all he could to run away as fast as possible.\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe seemed to have a much better grasp of his movement somehow now that he had a\u0026nbsp;\n\nreason to run. Despite not being all that aware of the woods' layout or having that much\u0026nbsp;\n\nof a good sense of direction, he eventually found himself near the lake again. He was\u0026nbsp;\n\napparently no longer in immediate danger, so he relaxed. And that's when it hit him. He\u0026nbsp;\n\nwas a crocodile.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; It surprised him; such a turn of events was unheard of. He could not think of\u0026nbsp;\n\nabsolutely any reason or justification for this. He thought maybe it was some sort of\u0026nbsp;\n\nironic punishment, but couldn't think of any time he had done anything bad for any\u0026nbsp;\n\ncrocodile or anything of the sorts. He thought, and he thought. He kept thinking until he\u0026nbsp;\n\nnoticed that he was still very much capable of thought. He had a mind and a conscience.\u0026nbsp;\n\nIt seemed as thought he still had some extent of his humanity. He tried to speak, but\u0026nbsp;\n\nonly a low growl would come out. All he could do was think. Maybe that alone would\u0026nbsp;\n\nbe enough to allow him some sort of communication if it proved necessary, he thought.\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe kept thinking constantly, because it reminded him that he was human. But he was\u0026nbsp;\n\nnot.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; And he eventually realized the pointlessness of it all. Thinking would not bring\u0026nbsp;\n\nhis humanity back. Nothing would. He was now confined to live the rest of his life as a\u0026nbsp;\n\ncrocodile or give up and die. He did not wish for his death, so he decided to just go\u0026nbsp;\n\nalong with it.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; He would eat and sleep, and that was enough for him. He could not feel his\u0026nbsp;\n\ninstincts taking over him, everything just felt natural, if not logical. Was it not\u0026nbsp;\n\nreasonable to just live? There was no need for deeper thoughts or opinions, even speech.\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe would just passively live, eating fish or birds that came near the lake, trying not to\u0026nbsp;\n\nbother the local fishers or draw too much attention. He thought once in a while, in fear\u0026nbsp;\n\nthat if he stopped thinking he would lose whatever humanity he had left; and perhaps\u0026nbsp;\n\nthat was a correct supposition, but the fact that went unnoticed by him is that the sheer\u0026nbsp;\n\ndesire to keep some of his humanity despite how it was completely useless for him at\u0026nbsp;\n\nhis current state was already something that made him somewhat more human. Simply\u0026nbsp;\n\nput, it is very human to wish to be human.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; He did not miss his wife as much as he felt he should, and he was sure she must\u0026nbsp;\n\nhave been suffering a lot, but there was nothing he could do, and he accepted that. He\u0026nbsp;\n\ndid miss his fellow fishermen. Occasionally some of his old friends would fish at the\u0026nbsp;\n\nlake and he would simply observe them from a distance, remembering the life he had\u0026nbsp;\n\nlost. He could never speak to them again, and it bothered him, but there was nothing he\u0026nbsp;\n\ncould do, and he accepted that. More and more he accepted his circumstances and got\u0026nbsp;\n\nused to his new life. It did however worry him how fast he was adapting and accepting\u0026nbsp;\n\nit, as he felt as if he should be rejecting it and doing all he could to go back to old life;\u0026nbsp;\n\nbut he couldn't bring himself to fight it and refuse it. He just went along with it. It might\u0026nbsp;\n\nhave been his instincts kicking in and telling him that everything was fine as it was and\u0026nbsp;\n\nthere was no need for any effort. Or maybe it was because all his life he had just gone\u0026nbsp;\n\nalong with it, never fighting back, because that's how he was raised, and that was good\u0026nbsp;\n\nenough for him and his village. And so, he carried on.\u0026nbsp;\n\nTHE WIFE\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; It was a cold, dark morning. Aixa was quietly sobbing, sitting at the kitchen\u0026nbsp;\n\ntable. There was a disturbing contrast between the sunflowers and angels on the\u0026nbsp;\n\ntablecloth and the woman's visible despair. Her short black hair was a complete mess,\u0026nbsp;\n\nand her makeup had been disarranged by her tears, making her accentuated latino\u0026nbsp;\n\nfeatures harder to notice and covering part of her olive skin. Her husband went missing\u0026nbsp;\n\ntwo days ago, and she was having a tough time coping with his disappearance. He was\u0026nbsp;\n\nlast seen returning home from his daily chores. His clothes were found near a lake, but\u0026nbsp;\n\nthere was no corpse or any blood. The morning she woke up without him by her side\u0026nbsp;\n\ndid worry her, but she did not expect it to be anything this serious.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; She met Indalecio many years ago. Being a small village, information goes\u0026nbsp;\n\naround pretty fast; she was a fresh face, as her parents had recently moved in, and he\u0026nbsp;\n\njust wanted to meet the new villagers. They grew up together and decided to marry at a\u0026nbsp;\n\nrelatively early age. They both knew they didn't really have a lot of choices and they\u0026nbsp;\n\nsufficiently liked each other. She had grown to really love him, but she knew that he\u0026nbsp;\n\nprobably no longer loved her. It was selfish of her to keep him even though she knew it\u0026nbsp;\n\nwas not what he wanted, but she would never let him go. And now he vanished. Maybe\u0026nbsp;\n\nhe finally grew too tired of her and decided to run away? She couldn't help but wonder\u0026nbsp;\n\nif she was the cause for his disappearance.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; And now there she is, trying her best not to cry and stay strong despite her\u0026nbsp;\n\nemotional dependence on her husband. She never thought about his death, she was just\u0026nbsp;\n\nnot ready for it. Maybe he isn't dead, she thought, but that just led her to believe that he\u0026nbsp;\n\nhad willingly left her for another woman. And she did not wish to think of that.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; The village didn't have a lot of security, everyone knew each other rather well\u0026nbsp;\n\nand from that came a mutual trust. The local policemen were still looking for any clues\u0026nbsp;\n\nto his whereabouts, but there was nothing to be found. She could not accept that. She\u0026nbsp;\n\nwould wail at the searchers in hopes that they would do a proper job and take this\u0026nbsp;\n\nseriously, but they were doing all they could. She started gathering information herself,\u0026nbsp;\n\nlooking everywhere for any possible sort of clue, anything he might have done in the\u0026nbsp;\n\nlast few days that could give her a lead, but the last few days had been completely\u0026nbsp;\n\nordinary. Nothing he did at home seemed any different than usual. She tried consulting\u0026nbsp;\n\nhis fishing colleagues, but none of them knew anything. They must be hiding something,\u0026nbsp;\n\nshe thought, and so she confronted them, desperation getting the best of her. They did\u0026nbsp;\n\nnot give in to her cries for help.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; She asked everyone she knew about them. None of them knew anything relevant.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThere was nothing to know. There was no catch, no trick, no clue, no evidence. But she\u0026nbsp;\n\ndid not know that, and so she sought answers that nobody could have, and it was driving\u0026nbsp;\n\nher insane.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; Now, two days later, she's slowly giving up. Her sadness is slowly turning into\u0026nbsp;\n\nanger and hatred. How come nobody knows anything? How come nobody is trying to\u0026nbsp;\n\nfind him but me? How come I'm the only one who cares? She asked and she asked, but\u0026nbsp;\n\nlately she had gotten used to none of her questions ever getting appropriate answers.\u0026nbsp;\n\nTwo months later, she had already gone mad, and his best friend came to visit. She was\u0026nbsp;\n\nalmost unrecognizable, malnourished and unkempt as she was. He did all he could to\u0026nbsp;\n\nhelp her, but she just saw that as an attempt to seduce her. Her mind was already\u0026nbsp;\n\ncrumbling, so she threatened him with a knife. He did not appreciate that.\u0026nbsp;\n\nTHE FRIEND\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Put down the knife. Please.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"NO. GET OUT OF HERE.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Please. I don't want to hurt you.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"I SAID GET OUT!\"\n\nShe started approaching him, still brandishing the knife. He backed down\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Alright, I'll leave. Please come see me when-\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"GET OOOOOOUUUUUT!\"\n\nShe lunged at him. He dodged and grabbed her hands.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Will you listen to me?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"P-Please let me go... Just leave me alone.\"\n\nShe started whimpering. He released her, and she fell to the ground, broken. He\u0026nbsp;\n\ngrabbed a chair, sat down, and sighed, massaging his eyebrows.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Look, Ax, I'm his best friend, and if there's someone who should know\u0026nbsp;\n\nanything it's me. And I have no idea what happened. Please, stop trying so hard. I won't\u0026nbsp;\n\nask you to move on so quickly, but please calm down, okay?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"I can't accept it, Socorro. I cannot accept it. How dare he just leave me like\u0026nbsp;\n\nthis?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"I don't think he left. I know as much as you do, but from what we know it\u0026nbsp;\n\ndoesn't look like he ran away.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Are you saying he's dead?\"\n\nShe was already holding back tears again.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Well, we can't say anything yet. You could say he was eaten by the crocodiles\u0026nbsp;\n\nnear the lake but there was no blood and his clothes were not all that damaged. If he was\u0026nbsp;\n\nto run away or something of the sorts I'm damn sure he would tell me. We thought\u0026nbsp;\n\nabout a possible kidnapping but there would be no reason whatsoever to kidnap\u0026nbsp;\n\nsomeone like him in a place like this.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; She was walking around the kitchen aimlessly. He still had his head down,\u0026nbsp;\n\nwondering what they should do. Socorro was Indalecio's childhood friend. Indalecio\u0026nbsp;\n\nwas the one who taught Socorro how to fish, and Socorro was the one who introduced\u0026nbsp;\n\nhim to Aixa. They've been friends for as long as they remember, they grew up together\u0026nbsp;\n\nand shared most of their experiences. Socorro had all the right to be as worried as Aixa,\u0026nbsp;\n\nbut he was trying to keep his head cool and think this through. He had a bad feeling\u0026nbsp;\n\nthere was something more to this. Something they just would never guess. \u0026nbsp;It was just a\u0026nbsp;\n\nhunch, but he could be onto something. His dark brown hair and moustache were\u0026nbsp;\n\nalready starting to go white, and his face was beginning to show signs of his age. He\u0026nbsp;\n\nwas a few years older than the couple after all, and this stress was not helping either.\n\nHe cleared his throat and spoke with an authoritarian but friendly tone.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"I think something else happened. Please listen to me.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Like what.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"I'm not terribly sure myself, but none of the clues lead anywhere. If we didn't\u0026nbsp;\n\nfind any body or signs of violence other than his clothes, he's probably still alive. If he\u0026nbsp;\n\ndidn't talk to any of his friends about leaving, not even once, he's probably still here.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThat leaves us the possibility that he was kidnapped, but there can't be any reason for\u0026nbsp;\n\nthat, and this village never had any sort of kidnapping before.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"It's never too late to start; some new people have been moving in over the\u0026nbsp;\n\nyears.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"But why kidnap him of all people, when people like the village headman walk\u0026nbsp;\n\naround unprotected?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"I don't know, he was alone and they saw the opportunity?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"But if that was the case we'd see more signs of a struggle than just his clothes.\u0026nbsp;\n\nAnd besides, you'd assume they'd have already contacted you by now, no?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"What are you getting at?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"What else could've happened?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Nothing. I can't think of anything else.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"Precisely.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"What?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"It's beyond us. Whatever happened is just beyond our comprehension.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"What the hell are you getting at here?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"What I'm getting at is: we might never know what happened. And we'll have to\u0026nbsp;\n\naccept that, sooner or later.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"I just can't take that for an answer. I need to know. I need to know why my\u0026nbsp;\n\nhusband in no longer by my side. I want to know why I have to sleep alone and wake up\u0026nbsp;\n\nalone every day now. I want to know what's keeping him from walking through that\u0026nbsp;\n\ndoor right now.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"I'm sorry, but you'll have to accept it, sooner or later.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \"You don't tell me what I have to accept or not. You don't have that right. I'll\u0026nbsp;\n\nkeep looking, I'm going to find him, I know it.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; And so she refused to settle down. Day after day, she would look for him\u0026nbsp;\n\neverywhere. Under the table, in the space between the walls, inside the fishing boats;\u0026nbsp;\n\nshe would look for him everywhere, hell-bent on finding him. And that's what she did.\u0026nbsp;\n\nAnd that was enough, because she believed that if she kept looking, sooner or later\u0026nbsp;\n\nshe'd find something, anything that could lead her back to him. Socorro, however, just\u0026nbsp;\n\nlet it go, and so did the rest of the village, and that was, unfortunately or not, enough for\u0026nbsp;\n\nthem. It was a matter of months and people barely remembered him, for his\u0026nbsp;\n\ntransformation was no different than death; a death without a corpse. Unlike death,\u0026nbsp;\n\nhowever, he kept on living his new life, day after day, just staying alive. Despite his\u0026nbsp;\n\nwife's suffering, it never made too much of a difference. Some villagers lost a good\u0026nbsp;\n\nfriend, a wife lost her husband, and basically her life in consequence, but that aside in\u0026nbsp;\n\nthe greater sum of things it did not make a lasting difference to the village. Neither was\u0026nbsp;\n\nit too different for the man himself. He was no longer human, all he could do was think,\u0026nbsp;\n\nbut in his human life, he never really used his thoughts for anything meaningful. It was\u0026nbsp;\n\nall laid out for him; he just had to play along. And now despite his capability to think\u0026nbsp;\n\nit's easier to just let his instincts tell him what to do and play along. Nothing changed.\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe'll just keep living his cozy life, and that should be enough.\n\nNATURE\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nYes, it does; a man lost his humanity and will have to live the rest of live as an animal.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nYes, it does; a woman lost her loved one and is now in a terrible depression.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nYes, it does; a man lost his best friend, unable to ever find out how exactly it happened.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nYes, it does; the village just lost someone who provided for it.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nYes, it does; the world just lost a valuable life.\n\nIt does not.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nNo, it does not; the man himself does not care. He is now a crocodile.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nNo, it does not; the woman clearly had mental issues. It was a matter of time.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nNo, it does not; the man will move on. It was not his only friend.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nNo, it does not; there are enough fishermen. The village will still prosper.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nNo, it does not; there are billions of people still alive and well. A single life should not\u0026nbsp;\n\nmatter.\n\nBut why?\n\nWho is at fault?\n\nNo one is. There is no point in blaming anyone.\n\nWho is at fault?\n\nNo person.\n\nWhat is at fault?\n\nNature is.\n\nWhy is that?\n\nIt was curious.\n\nWhy is that?\n\nIt wanted to see what would happen.\n\nWhy is that?\n\nIt wanted to see the value of a man.\n\nWhat did it see?\n\nThere is no value.\n\nWhat did it see?\n\nValue is not measurable.\n\nWhy is that?\n\nBecause one could argue that a person's worth is calculated by his actions, but\u0026nbsp;\n\nsometimes people can be very valuable without doing anything extraordinary. And one\u0026nbsp;\n\ncould argue that a person's worth is calculated by how much his peers value him, but\u0026nbsp;\n\nmany people do all sorts of beneficent actions every day and yet go by unnoticed.\n\nDoes that mean a man who is not valuable to anyone and does nothing good to society\u0026nbsp;\n\nis worthless?\n\nNo. As a matter of fact much depends on how much one values oneself. A man who\u0026nbsp;\n\ndoes not value himself in the slightest might as well be worthless. A man who over\u0026nbsp;\n\nvaluates himself might as well be worthless. A man who knows his place and values his\u0026nbsp;\n\nlife for what it is, however, is worth the life that was given to him.\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nDid the man have any value?\n\nYes he did. He meant a lot to his peers and was a good man.\n\nDid the man have any value?\n\nNo, he did not. His disappearance affected a minimal amount of people. Nothing\u0026nbsp;\n\nchanged.\n\nDid the man have any value?\n\nThere is no value. The man is content.\n\nIs that enough?\n\nYes. He still values his life.\n\nWhat about the wife?\n\nThere is nothing he could do about that.\n\nDid he try?\n\nHe is incapable of trying.\u0026nbsp;\n\nDoes that make it any better?\n\nIt does not. But it's not entirely his fault. At least the man is content.\n\nIs the man content?\n\nYes he is. Adaptation was surprisingly smooth. In no time he was but a simple crocodile,\u0026nbsp;\n\nnot different in appearance or behavior than any other. His thoughts were nothing but a\u0026nbsp;\n\npastime, a hobby. They entertained him. Regardless of how human he still was, he\u0026nbsp;\n\nslowly forgot about his past life. Alienated from proper human interaction, his mind is\u0026nbsp;\n\nnow nothing but a plaything by itself. It has no purpose other than his own petty\u0026nbsp;\n\nentertainment at his own thoughts. He was himself, and yet something else, and the\u0026nbsp;\n\nsomething else appreciated his conscience, useless as it was. But that did not bother him.\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe lives on; sufficiently content he is still alive.\n\nIs that wrong?\n\nNo. It's just fine. It's enough.\n\nIs it?\n\nIt is.\n\n  \n  \n\n"}