A man carrying a small machine approaches you on the street one day...

A man carrying a small machine approaches you on the street one day. He tells you that he will offer you money equal to one hour's worth of your current salary in exchange for using his machine on you. The machine, he explains, shortens your lifespan by one hour. If you are unemployed he offers you minimum wage. In either case he is open to haggling.

Do you accept his offer?

No, because time is an illusion.

Yes, because time doesn't exist.

Maybe, because time is a slippery subject.

one hour of youth is worth more than one hour of old age, so unless your work is particularly rewarding, or you were going to die young anyways, it's tremendously worth it to use the machine.

this is a board about literature, user. please save your tumblr-tier philosophy for when you're smoking pot with your highschool buds

just end my life already

i'm surprised i actually masturbated and came to that picture

Me too. Good job champ.

Sure why not. I already do hard fuckin work for my money, might as well get it without having to do the work.

As he waits for my response, I would lick the middle three fingers on my right hand, stick them down the back of my pants and insert each on into my asshole. When I pull them out, the man sees that they're covered in shit. As loud as I can manage, I yell, "I choose you, diggtrio!" Then I smack I'm across the face, leaving him with triple shit marks across the cheek and nose.
It's super effective against strange fags with machines.
Ain't nobody got time for that.

my sides

so. fucking. UPVOTED!

This isn't Reddit, faglord

I apologize, I was confused upon reading the above posts.

Yeah? Well, get it together, we've got serious internetting to do. Would you like a free kindle copy of my sci fi novel?

let that machine running for ten years fan

no i don't want to tinker with reality in any way because there will be loopholes or unforseen consequences etc.

Ye

Yes. I don't want to get so old that all I can do is shit myself and my only joy is whenever the nurse brings me opiates

Yes because it presupposes an unDefined limitation. If life itself becomes indefinite you've traded something within indefinite terms. However if life is definite, then losing an hour is thus known so one can compensate for it. If you die by disease might as well have been in the hospital, if you die by tragedy it offsets the tragedy potentially saving others. If it is the natural lifespan then the work is just traded. Everyday this trade is made, when you work in the confines of ordered Society. You simply take the free hour the next day.

What if I like my work and enjoy doing it? Say I am a potter, with my hand I shape the thick clay and the process of seeing the spinning brown mass grow and thrive beneath the touch of my rough yet gentle finger strangely excites me (though I am ashamed to admit it, and explain my sudden trouser bulges to co worker by pointing at the window and saying, "WOW, look at that girl" and then casually crossing my legs to cut blood flow to the penis). But at night, when no one is there to know, I know I cross the darkened room and open the door into the cold of the outside and lay myself facedown unto the earth, and penetrate the earth's core, and my thrusts and moaning under the wide sky do not let the beautiful Goddess of Earth unteased, and she shows her arousal my shudders and flushes, so many earthquakes and tsunamis and her cries of extasy are hurricanes and tornadoes, and when I see reports of mass disaster on the news I feel the quiet satisfaction of the man who knows how to please a woman.

Kinda sad. You'll never be with a woman that has as nice a body as that or any woman at all (illeism).

Take 20 years away (time better spent dead), and spend my remaining years young and rich.