Someone somewhere right now, is committing the most vile and despicable act of instanticide. They have been granted, by some happy stroke of fate, the perfect moment. A moment that could never be recreated in a thousand years, not in Hephaestus' forge, not in the mind of Burroughs. Never. And this person, perhaps several people, unknowing of what they've chanced upon, kill this moment. All is laid bare before them, all raw and in relief. The world for this moment stops spinning, they are presented with this decision of cosmic significance. But they blew it. The balance was in their hands, they could rig the scales as they liked, they were in control for maybe one of the few instances in their life, and they couldn't do it.
It happens.
People choke.
Sometimes a hose cant hose and sometimes a trap cant trap and sometimes a man, plain as it seems, cant seem to do what needs to be done. Imagine a world where not a single moment was ever stiffed, never a cue missed, never a box left unchecked. I personally cant, a world with such opportunity is out of my realm of handling. To get back what you've lost due to your own incompetence removes learning from this world.
So as terrible as this awful killing of the moment is, the alternative is quite a bit worse.
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