Don’t ask me whether I would push the button. Do you know the one? You are transported to a time before time. A button rests on a table before you. If you push the button, creation will begin, time will unspool from nothingness. Everything that is going to happen will happen. Whether you choose to push the button might change from year to year, even moment to moment. Later, you know all about those born only to suffer horribly and die, that all will die, and that some will have no ledger of joy and peace to counterbalance their impending annihilation. Is it selfishness to exist? But there is so much existence without self or selves. But if you choose to turn away from the button and vaporize into nothingness yourself, know this. In that scenario, you could not have been there to choose whether or not to press the button. So the button exists on its own. The button is a trap. Pressing the button might seem to become a moral imperative. Even if it means some slim chance of some other being, or some other version of you, who might be able to somehow steal the power from the button. Monks sit high on a mountain, frozen in meditation, their bodies turned to stone. They are aware of the insidious power of the button. It is their entire lives. They wage a war that is silent in the mountain hall, that goes on for lifetimes. The button flickers but does not disappear.