Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Sterkvark the Pirate (Part VIII)

Sterkvark came to his senses, only to conclude he must have taken leave of them. He was lying in a ship's cabin, which was normal enough, and his wounds had been dressed, though he wasn't sure he wanted to look under the bandages just yet in case his insides were more outside than in.

No, it was the broom busily sweeping the floor by itself that seemed out of place. No pirate ship he had ever known had had such amenities. He got to his feet, pulled on his bloodstained shirt, and unsteadily made his way out of the cabin to get his bearings.

He found there were spirits freely flowing in the galley, but while he was bone dry Sterkvark didn't have the stomach to join in.

On deck he found a skeleton crew...

While the Captain at the helm was an old aquaintance...Sterkvark had only just killed the fellow, or else his Doppelgänger.

Either he was the only man alive on a ghost ship, or else he was doomed to haunt the seas as one of the damned and dead. There ought to be a way to test this, thought Sterkvark, but in a time when the best defense against accusations of witchcraft was to drown instead of float, the standard proofs of undeath did him no good if they proved fatal. He decided to develop his own metaphysical argument to prove his existence:

1. I exist.

2. My existence must have a cause.

3. The cause must be either:

a. myself
b. my always having existed
c. my parents
d. something less perfect than Blizz
e. Blizz

4. Not a. If I had created myself, I would have made myself perfect. Not undead and stuck on a ship full of skeletons with not a wench among the lot.

5. Not b. This does not solve the problem. If I am a dependent being, I need to be continually sustained by another. Like the $13 bucks Blizz collects each month to keep me animate.

6. Not c. This leads to an infinite regress.

7. Not d. The idea of perfection that exists in me cannot have originated from a non-perfect being.

8. Therefore, e. Blizz does not exist. But the guy who pays for my account does.

"Arr, bugger philosophy and philosophers!" shouted an exasperated Sterkvark. "Rene Descartes was a drunken fart! I drink, therefore, I am!"

So declaring, he raised a tankard of insubstantial grog to his ego, and ignored where it streamed onto the deck through the rapier holes beneath the bandages. It was not as if he hadn't died many times before in this game. He might as well enjoy himself while waiting for a rez....

(To be continued...)

No comments:

Post a Comment