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bolted, either way. What he knew, all he had known, he would have to leave
behind. Die or run to the north, to the unknown.
They lit the pyre. The fire crackled around him.
Time to choose. Burn, and give them further fuel for their ecstasies in
which he did not believe, but at least serve someone, give some meaning to his
life. Or bolt and have no meaning, just fear, unknown and unknowable.
Burn or bolt?
The End.
Moral: It pays to pretend you're dopey and doe-eyed.
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