[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zhtREIm.png[/img]
[color=a2d39c][h3]Claudius Caligula Westerson[/h3][/color]
[i]Zero Degrees Lounge, School District 15[/i]
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NT8PgFQJYCU[/youtube]
[@Crusader Lord][@liferusher][@Breo]
[/center]
What is "wrong"?

If you ask a human this question, you will get a variety of answers. Wrong is incorrect, wrong is impossible, wrong is disgusting or disturbing or foolish.

At its core, wrong is [i]wrong[/i]. It is one of the few concepts that is perfectly essentialist. Wrong is wrong. Right is not wrong because wrong is not right.

And so, the doors to the place that Claudius had designated as his 'lunchtime spot for today' swung open, a feeling that could not be expressed in words flowed outwards with it at the center. A sense beyond sight spoke to nothing, informing it of a truth both "of" the world and "beyond" the world.

This pizzeria, this space, this [i]thing[/i] is wrong.

There are many different senses of fear.

The fear of a stronger human.

[i]Of something which is perfectly understood, but which cannot be killed by your ability. You understand man, you understand what would have been needed to accomplish to defeat it, and you understand that you lack that much. This is the weakest fear. Predictable, simple, trite. A meaningless illusion that can hardly be called fear.[/i]

The fear of a hurricane or an earthquake.

[i]Of a process beyond your "control". Something which you understand, but which you cannot know in totality and infinity. It has no mind, it is merely a process, a result of predetermined actions and ends, and yet you know that it is greater than yourself. A process, there is always a process, and yet this fear barely stands above the fear of another human.[/i]

The fear of a monster.

[i]Of something that you are not, that you do not understand and yet you know you will die. If God is all-knowing and all-powerful, the monster is a being of human knowledge and powerlessness. It is the reachable but utterly incomprehensible abyss. It is an end.[/i]

The fear of a god.

[i]Of abject inferiority, of acknowledgement that you are nothing. A cosmic speck in the hand of the Bodhisattva. That which creates, that which destroys, that which acts in a transcendent form with the scream of "naught" roaring in their mind, barely able to pay you attention as you are done away with.[/i]

This was none of those.

This was all of those.

Plot. Scheme. Make your preparations. Cast your spells. Perform your calculations. Create. Destroy. Ask why. Slit your throat. None of it will do you any good. 

Not the fear of man or process or god or devil. It is all useless because this is the most primal fear.

This is the fear of [b]wrong[/b].

Heavy steps strode forth. Each pound of his blasted heart sent surges of fire through his limbs. 

The reek of tomato sauce and strawberry ice cream, of oregano and mint chip, of wrong wrong [b]wrong [color=ed1c24]wrong WrONg-[/color][/b]

He could not bend. He could not break. 

Yes, because after all, after all...

[b]It takes a concept to defeat another concept.[/b]

[color=a2d39c]"...one black coffee."[/color]

Declaration.

Sentence.

The world starts.

The world ends.