The clatter of footsteps echoed across the hallway. It was still early in the morning, but Jonas, the Minister of Global Information, was hurrying to inform the President of a message he had received only moments earlier. It concerned an approaching crisis—one expected to occur within a year—and he wished to hear the President's thoughts on how they should confront it.
After a short walk, he finally reached the President's office. The door, closed and dark brown in color, was made of solid wood. It appeared sturdy and secure, standing nearly two meters tall and wide enough for two people to enter at the same time. Nervous and anxious, Jonas knew this might be the most serious news they had received since the founding of the Supreme Covenant of Unified States (SCUS). He knocked twice, signaling his request for permission to enter. He waited one second, then another. After four seconds, a firm and clear voice spoke from the other side of the door.
"Enter."
Jonas carefully opened the door, taking care not to make unnecessary noise. The President's desk stood directly before him. The President sat behind it—grave, solemn, and motionless. He did not appear surprised to see Jonas. The two exchanged the SCUS salute as a formal greeting. The President then raised his hand slightly, indicating that Jonas should take the seat before the desk. Jonas approached slowly, pulled out the chair, and sat.
"What has brought you here at such an early hour, Minister Fischer?" the President asked, his hands folded on the table, his gaze fixed on Jonas.
Still uneasy, Jonas opened his briefcase and placed a document folder on the desk. "My apologies for disturbing you at this hour, Mr. President," he said carefully. "However, I believe you must see this personally. I received these documents only a short while ago."
The President opened the folder. Inside were five sheets of paper, written in detail on both sides. He looked up briefly and then gestured for Jonas to explain. Jonas began to elaborate, describing everything he knew about the developing crisis. The President remained silent, his eyes fixed intently on the pages.
"We expect to receive additional information within the next few days," Jonas added cautiously.
"It is estimated that we will have the full report by the end of this month, Mr. President."
The room fell silent. Jonas waited anxiously for a response. At last, the President exhaled, set the documents down, and leaned back in his chair.
"Thank you, Minister Fischer. I will take this matter under serious consideration," he said.
Another brief moment passed before the President continued speaking. "Minister Fischer, when you received this report, what came to your mind first?"
Jonas was a little surprised — he thought the meeting had already ended — but he still took a moment to think of an answer.
"It was a bit surprising, sir… and somewhat exciting and thrilling," Jonas replied briefly.
"I see… I wish I could feel that too. I don't know why, but when I receive such reports, I feel nothing except disappointment and distress," the President said as he slowly placed the sheets back into the folder and handed it to Jonas.
"Disappointment, sir?" Jonas asked, perplexed.
"Disappointment is when, after all this time, we keep doing the same things over and over again, and the results only grow worse than before." He let out a long exhale before continuing."Minister Fischer, how long has SCUS been operating?"
"More than four centuries, Mr. President," Jonas answered immediately. This was the most basic information about SCUS.
"And what are our goals?" the President continued.
"To keep world peace and solve global problems, sir," Jonas replied confidently, though his face still showed confusion as to why the President was asking these questions.
The President leaned a little closer to Jonas, folding his hands on the table, his voice remaining cold.
"And no matter how hard we try, no matter how much effort we put into solving these problems, they never stop. They could stop, but they don't want to. They keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. They never learn… not even a little."
Jonas no longer felt confused — instead, a quiet fear crept into him. He blinked respectfully, surprised by what he was hearing, but continued to listen carefully. The President went on.
"What has this world become over these centuries, aside from advances in technology? Has anything truly changed? No. SCUS was founded after a chain of devastating events — we were built to restore peace. But was there ever truly peace? Or was it only a pause before the next war? And not only war — famine, purges, and countless other atrocities."
The President took a quick breath.
"And no matter how terrible the consequences are, do they repeat them? Of course. Do they ever stop and reconsider, to prevent the same outcomes? Probably not. This world refuses to change — it is stubborn and filled with stupidity. We have been doing nothing but chasing a delusion — believing we could change the world itself. We were wrong. Horribly wrong. We thought we were the changers, that we could fix it. But in truth, there was nothing to fix — it already is what it is, like a system locked in its default state."
Jonas stayed silent, refusing to interrupt. Distress rushed through him like lightning, each of the President's words growing heavier.
"Minister Fischer… Do you think what we call 'hell,' or anything like it, truly exists?" Jonas nodded. "This is hell. All of us are in hell — and we are the devils. A rotting hell, full of filthy, disgusting devils ruling over this indecent place." He stopped a bit then continued.
"Calling us devils is still too gentle. At least devils can act rationally. We don't. We are driven by blind desire, endless greed, and unimaginable foolishness. Parasites of this world. Dregs that appeared from nowhere — mindless beings following others, only slightly less foolish beings." The President stopped and looked down at his hands, his voice now heavier with disappointment.
"We should never have existed at all. We don't deserve to be here. The word 'existence' should not apply to us. We were given one of the greatest weapons — our own minds — and what did we use them for? We used them against each other. Instead of thinking, we react. Instead of building, we destroy. And do you know what else our minds created, Minister Fischer?" the President asked gently.
Jonas did not answer, he truly didn't know, and waited for the President to continue.
"They created concepts out of nothing — fairness, justice, freedom, dignity — fantasies built on fragile illusions. But the foundations that truly exist are discrimination, prejudice, oppression, corruption, hypocrisy, exploitation, chaos, discord… I could write an entire book just listing the words. A human, no matter how bright or admirable they seem, when placed in the right circumstances, what lies beneath will always rise."
After a brief silence, his voice softened. The coldness faded, replaced instead by something closer to pity.
"And the worst part? This is what makes us human. Anyone who lacks these traits could exist only in the fantasies of children's stories. The only difference is how well each of us manages to hide them. It disgusts me, it nauseates me, and yet what sickens me even more is that I am no different from the rest. The thought that I share the same flaws, the same nature, is enough to make me recoil. I am repulsed not only by humanity, but by myself for belonging among them. What fills me with the deepest despair is that I never asked to exist, especially not as a human being — such a sordid, wretched creature, confined within a body and a collection of traits that feel more like a curse than a blessing.
Once the body exists, consciousness follows, and from consciousness arises self-awareness. That awareness is like a cage forced upon me without my consent. From all the things that began with my existence, self-awareness is the worst of them all. It should never have existed. It is a flaw in our design. Without it, I would never experience such feelings. I would not know what I am. I would simply exist, without suffering. But I cannot escape it, for it emerged on its own, and because of that, I turned my hatred inward."
The President paused and drew a long, weary breath.
"However, my hatred is not reserved for myself alone. I direct it toward humanity as a whole. It is not only hatred, but also frustration and profound exasperation. I stand among them, I behave as they do, and I look like them. What is the purpose of being human? Why should we feel pride in it? Should we be proud of being the most irrational, violent, and thoughtless creatures to exist? Or should we take pride in our so-called intelligence — the same intelligence that drives us to harm even ourselves?"
He paused for a moment, drawing another breath before continuing.
"There are no words that can truly describe how deeply I despise humanity. Yes, yes—I know that somewhere out there, there are good people. But tell me, how long do they remain good? When circumstances change, when something they value most is threatened, will they still uphold the virtuous image they present to the world? Or was that image never real to begin with?
"Do you know what truly drives us forward, Minister Fischer? It is not merely desire—it is our ego. Our ego drives us toward our own destruction, and it makes us willing to trample over others to satisfy it. In the end, the only question is whose ego is greater, and when it will finally surface once the right moment arrives. We were never good to begin with. We are opportunistic, cynical, egocentric creatures who believe ourselves to be the center of everything. Yet in truth, we are nothing more than animals of the same kind—no rulers of fate, no makers of destiny, despite the absurd titles we grant ourselves. In many ways, we are worse than animals."
He fell silent briefly, then continued in a lower voice.
"And yet… I also admire humanity. We create things that define us. We create art. We create beauty through our sense of aesthetics. That beauty is real—art represents something genuinely born from us, something not born of destruction. I admire those creations, all of them. But no matter how much beauty we bring into the world, our capacity for destruction far exceeds it. What is the point of creating beauty when everything we do ultimately leads to suffering and ruin? Is art merely an illusion—a veil to conceal our atrocities? A deception we use to avoid confronting how monstrous we truly are?"
Jonas sat motionless. Distress was etched plainly across his face. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and along his cheeks, yet he made no effort to wipe them away. He looked toward the President.
The President, too, remained seated, his gaze fixed on the surface of the table. This time, he showed no emotion at all.
Silence stretched between them. Jonas waited.
"I have seen everything," the President finally said, drained and drowsy.
"More than anyone else. I saw war disguised as empty liberation. I saw conflicts that existed only to serve those in power. I heard the hypocritical reproach of bystanders—don't you find it funny, Minister Fischer? They do nothing until it is their turn to become the victim.
I witnessed the laughter and satisfaction taken from killing the innocent. I observed how easily people believed everything placed before their eyes; they could not distinguish what was right. They only believed what they wanted to believe, seeing what appealed to them the most.
I fear the ignorance we keep within ourselves. I fear indifference becoming the root of humanity. They look at the suffering of others and laugh at it—until it reaches them. Then they scream, asking why it is so unfair.
For millennials, have we learned anything? No. We have only learned to invent new things, but never to reinvent what lies within us. We never improved the concept of humanity; we only learned how to hide our flaws better.
I always wonder why we exist at all—what intention brought us into this existence, only to slowly watch us destroy ourselves. Have you ever seen a species that hates itself for no reason at all? Has any species been given such intelligence, only to use it against its own home?
So what are we? A monster? Grotesque? Or nothing…"
His voice hardened.
"The coming era will be nothing but suffering, torment, and misery. Nothing more."
The President rose from his chair and slowly approached the window behind him, gazing out at the world beyond.
"Just look at those people walking around," he said. "Watching their feet press into the soil of this world is enough to fill me with repugnance. Who gave us the right to walk, to think, to act? Seeing those humans—those bundles of flesh lingering at the edge of my sight—the more I look at them, the more I want them to vanish.
How deeply I have come to wish for them all to die. How I want to witness them suffer, to see their hubris crumble, their imbecilic, egotistical, rapacious, malignant, libidinous, callous, vitriolic selves rot away from within. Aren't those the very things that make us who we are?
I want to see all of us turn putrescent, sinking together into the grave."
He laughed softly—then fell silent.
"Does this world deserve peace or harmony?" he asked quietly. "No. We have never deserved such things." He paused for a while.
"Am I failing this world, or this world has failed me?"
He exhaled sharply before continuing.
"I want… I want to see all of this reduced to ash. Everything we call civilization—wiped away for eternity. Every human life is consumed by flame. And I would gladly perish alongside them. I have always wanted that day to come. I want to hear the screaming, the crying, the desperate pleas for forgiveness—only for them to be swallowed by the fire. Their suffering would erase their foolishness, their arrogance, and everything we have ever built. That is what we deserve.
"And when that moment comes, I will witness it all—everything collapsing, one by one. I will look into their eyes, eyes filled with suffering, begging for a forgiveness that does not exist. I will watch them writhe upon the surface, torn open and laid bare, revealing that within them there is nothing but excrement, sordidness , putrefaction and ordure—what a surprising revelation.
Even the most noble and the most vile will meet the same fate, for to be human is already the greatest sin. I will laugh—laugh as the most abominable species meets its most frantic end. Their howling will be nothing more than the rustling of leaves in the wind.
I will contemplate the final beauty before my eyes: flesh layered upon flesh, stripped of all illusion. How delightful it would be to stand as the last witness to it all, to behold at last the true beauty I have long been seeking."
And then it will be my turn, when the moment I have long desired arrives, I will embrace that fate fully, for I am part of this filthy world as well. I am ready to be consumed by the final end… the ultimate conclusion of humanity."
He remained standing at the window, his eyes fixed outside.
"And Minister Fischer," he added suddenly, without turning around, "I will review the reports. You will have my decision next week."
Jonas replied that he understood, though fear still clung tightly to him as he rose from his seat.
The President spoke once more, still gazing beyond the glass.
"And thank you… for listening so carefully."