Finding the Right Person to Hurt You

　　She looked at my plate. 'Are you not eating that?'

　　'No,' I said. 'I don't think I could.' And then, thinking I might get some information out of her, I asked, 'If I had done something, achieved something remarkable, do you think I would have told a lot of people? I mean, we humans are proud aren't we? We like to show off about things.'

　　'Yes, I suppose.'

　　I nodded. Felt panic rising as I wondered how many people knew about Professor Andrew Martin's discovery. Then I decided to broaden my enquiry. To act like a human I would after all need to understand them, so I asked her the biggest question I could think of. 'What do you think the meaning of life is, then? Did you discover it?'

　　'Ha! The meaning of life. The meaning of life. There is none. People search for external values and meaning in a world which not only can't provide it but is also indifferent to their quest. That's not really Schopenhauer. That's more Kierkegaard via Camus. I'm with them. Trouble is, if you do study philosophy and stop believing in a meaning you start to need medical help.'

　　'What about love? What is love all about? I read about it. In Cosmopolitan.'

　　Another laugh. 'Cosmopolitan? Are you joking?'

　　'No. Not at all. I want to understand these things.'

　　'You're definitely asking the wrong person here. See, that's one of my problems.' She lowered her voice by at least two octaves, stared darkly. 'I like violent men. I don't know why. It's kind of self-harming thing. I go to Peterborough a lot. Rich pickings.'

　　'Oh,' I said, realising it was right I had been sent here. The humans were as weird as I had been told, and as in love with violence. 'So love is about finding the right person to hurt you?'

　　'Pretty much.'

　　'That doesn't make sense.'

　　'"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." That was ... someone.'

　　There was a silence. I wanted to leave. Not knowing the etiquette, I just stood up and left.

　　She released a little whine. And then laughed again. Laughter, like madness, seemed to be the only way out, the emergency for humans.

The Humans, P41-42
Matt Haig
ISBN 978-0-85786-876-3