“Now, why would you do that?” she asked her granddaughter, wondering if the girl had been influenced by mob psychology, peer pressure, or was merely inflicted by a temporary, ephemeral insanity.

“I just…” the girl mused, attempting to organize her chaotic thoughts into some semblance of rationality, “I don’t understand what gives us the right to kill other animals, nevermind one another. I mean,” she continued, frowning as she attempted to articulate what made so much sense contained within the sanctuary of her mind, “we’re not God, and even if we were… even if we are His representatives, the governors of the earth, it doesn’t matter, does it? Because God doesn’t kill, or at least plenty of religions think that he gives us free will, refrains from controlling, or more importantly, killing us. So,” the girl questioned, desperate for some reassurance, heavenly or earthly, that she was not completely erroneous in her reasoning, that she had begun to unravel the suffocating coils of confusion from this gloriously oppressive universe, “why should we kill when our creator does not? We can do anything… but should we?”