When I was told that morality exists, I laughed. And when morality itself came before me and instructed me to do as it asked, I laughed still more. Morality could not understand why I was laughing, and asked me why I was laughing. But I did not bother telling morality why I was laughing; I just continued to laugh. Soon afterwards, morality became furious and demanded that I follow its instructions, since it was itself an authority on actions. I thought about what morality said and I thought about the instructions it gave, the rules it determined, the actions it divided into good and bad. Then I looked out into the world and saw that it was meaningless; I looked within myself, and neither could I find any meaning; and in that instant, morality vanished.