“Elephant in the room. What is death?”
You’re caught off guard. Death is accepted, no value assigned.
“Death is an absence of life.”
The room holds its breath, waiting for the mocking response to what feels like a
stupid answer to a stupid question. But stupid questions are the name of the game when one slip-up in Cross-Examination can cascade into a disaster of outrageous proportions.
“Then what is life?”
You look at the judges, rebellious and unemotional.
“What isn’t life?”
“This is my Cross-Ex. What is life?”
You pause but you cannot wait forever
“Physical and emotional awareness.”
“Why should life be preserved?”
The question seems insensitive and unnecessary to the casual audience members gathered for the big event, but the audience isn’t deciding the round.
You incline your head at the judges.
“Life has a tendency to preserve itself. That tendency takes the form of a basic desire and fundamental human right. It is our responsibility, therefore, to preserve the most lives possible in any given situation.”
Your opponent’s next question is interrupted by the rude and persistent beep of the five timers in the room. An hour later the round ends, and as the judges turn to their careful notes to deliberate, your best friend, a lower caliber debater with rebelliously gelled hair and a persistent fedora leans on the desk you have just stood up from to stretch your legs.
“An interesting issue you discussed today,” he comments glibly. You shrug in
response.
“Critique of viviocentrism, it’s going around.” Your friend laughs.
“Like a disease.” He pauses to scrutinize the three judges and your opponents in
turn. “You know, it’s interesting,” he begins again, “under your definition, a Vampire would be alive.” You shrug again, determined to brush it off in an as distantly objective way as possible.
“They’re undead. It’s a grey area.”
“Zombies?”
“Half-dead, no emotional awareness.”
“But plants do?”
“They have experiences similar to pain.”
“Pain is not an emotion.”
“So? There’s a sliding scale of emotional awareness. It determines the life we feel
compelled to preserve.”
“And psychopaths?”
“They have emotional awareness, just…”
“Less?” your friend snaps. You have trouble accounting for his change in behaviour.
“Well, yeah–“ you shrug defensively.
“And that means?” Your words choke you. You’re tongue-tied in a way you have never been in round. “Right,” your friend finishes, “it means they’re not alive.” There is nothing to explain the disgust in his voice.
Nihilistic Porcupine 