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SUMMARY: An early attempt at blatantly political sci-fi this story was actually written a couple of years ago- it seems to have gotten more relevant.

"A Conversation at a Table"
William J. Hrdina


"Tell me your feelings about death."
"Why?"
"I want to know what you think about it. Does it scare you?"
"That always confused me. Why are we supposed to fear death when we don't fear sleep? Aren't they the same thing? I mean, from the point of view of experience? It's just...darkness. But then again, our personalities come back when we sleep. We're not comfortable in unconsciousness; so we have dreams. Is death really any different? Is life any different for that matter?"
"But there is a difference of course. Between what you are saying and what you did."
"There is no difference. Everything is the same-- life, death, and dreams."
"You can think whatever metaphysical picture you want, but forcing others to make the transition between the states, that's simply outside of your realm of authority."
"Could you say that in slightly plainer English?"
There's a difference between life and death and you don't have the right to move people from the living column to the dead one."
"Is it OK to kill in a dream?"
"Yes dreams aren't real."
"Nothing is real."
"Nothing is necessarily real from the point of view of the individual. But there is another point of view, the collective human one. In that one I can kick you and it will hurt no matter what you individually think about it."
A swift kick to the shin punctuated the statement.
The man flinched.
"See?" The interrogator asked, smirking.
"But don't you see?" The accused retorted. "That's the difference. In death, the collective world, the one that can really hurt you; it's gone. All that's left is the individual mind. Or nothing. Either way, no more pain."
"What about God, what about Heaven and Hell?"
"I thought you were an educated fella."
"Lot's of educated men believed in God."
"God yes. Heaven and Hell, not so much. Not in the literal fire/brimstone-clouds/angels dichotomy."
"So you're smart enough to reject blindly asserted dogma, but stupid enough to think you have the right to kill others. This is really where I lose you. You seem to be smart and intuitive. Yet you are broken. I know you can see that what you've done is wrong, even as you make specious philosophical excuses about why you did it."
"Sure it's wrong from your point of view. I'm not crazy. I can see that in your eyes I'm a sociopath. You think I'm evil. You think I'm a monster. But I'm not evil. I'm not a monster. I'm someone who knew the truth and acted from it. The shared world is a world of pain. It is, as the Buddhists say, Dukkha, suffering. I freed them from the pain, released them from the illusion of life."
"Your truth, not necessarily theirs."
"I ask you again, is it OK to kill in dreams?"
"And I answer you again, there is a difference."
"And round and round we go. It's the wheel."
"Do not Buddhists also speak of the dangers of desire? Is not desire supposed to be the source of the suffering that you spoke of?"
"Yes."
"And isn't saving people from their delusions a desire that you had?"
Silence.
"Well isn't it.