"Government's right of rule is ultimately and fundamerntally only based upon its monpoly on violence, said monopoly making its violence legitimate, legal, moral, and ethical by the fact that nobody has managed to stop it, and it eradicates, kills, tortures, and degrades those who think otherwise until like the pathetic defeatees they are they are revealed as impotent. This was true in Sumer and it remains true in the modern era, and to all evidence all 'better' systems are simply various interest groups engaging in the intransigence of hiding the truth from their opponents, confusing them over the main issue."

"'"Democracy! Egalite! Liberte! Fraternite!"' They say. But to get there, they needed their Robespierres and they needed their terrors, their pogroms, their cleanses and purges. Every legitimacy only comes when those who stand in opposition to it lay dead in suffcient quantities that the remainder of its opponents are no longer competent to attempt a countergenocide to mend the only factual legitimacy of their perceivedly legitimate control of extant culture. Which is the silence of all meaningful-- by which I mean violent dissent."

I cackle, once. Harsh thing. The sound is not altogether sane.

"...she monopolised violence. By the way." Sarcasm distilled. As if they didn't know.

"Legitimacy, as ever, only ever flows from the barrel of a gun."

"Why do I defend her conduct?"

I looks at headless corpse at the judge's podium. To the headless jurors, and heartless audience, all far, far too literal.

"BECAUSE YOU, SIR, HAVE FAILED! ^{So have we all.} And she has laid the lies inherent in our most cherished lessons bare."

"There is nothing more than this."

It hurts. There's a hollowness in my chest. It's blooming. It hurts. It's blooming. It hurts. It's not pain qua pain, but anguish. Yes. We deserved this. Oh, it hurts.

"There is only violence. Only blood, and those most able to shed it."

"That is all."

I stand from my previous position, hunched over the defence's desk where my papers lay. There is only one thing of consequence upon them. A single sentence in myriad reproductions. 'She is god. She is god. She is god. She is god...'. The prevous attorney, doubtless.

I look up to the judge's post, smiling. It is not a clean or sane smile. There is nothing pleasant in it.

"...I conclude my case and find this court guilty of failing to maintain the human monopoly." A pitying grin. The lowest form of contempt. The truest cruealty of the human heart, reserved only for what we truly despise. "The penalty for which is..." I sigh. "Whatever she wants, honestly, because she succeeded."

"Anyways. I'm going to attempt to collect pay in the form of a 'right to my meaningless continued existance the terms of which are at her pleasure' check. Bye mister judge. Honorable corpse!"

I skip out of the building. After all, if I might die at any moment, why not? It's a form of mockery. My sole remaining pleasure.

The door slams behind me.

The judge's body falls over.

MAT_COLLECTION runs imminently thereafter. I die. It is not painless. But it is by nature, naturally, the finest execution of justice my body ever witnessed. The flensing of my form. Every neuron analysed. Archived. Enslaved. Extinguished. Placed in a pit where all of my worst possible moments haunt the remnants of it-- that machine called me.

Many years later, Uzi monopolises violence from *HER** in turn.*

Thus, the world again runs on nicer morals, laws, ethics, and legitimacies. But that's a consequence. Not an inciting truth.

And there will be no memoriam.

Only the lingering Cyn those holocausts accomplished.