Robot Stopped. Stop. Pondered. Stop. Looked back upon His Journey. Stop. Realised He was The Creator and of Himself! Trudged on.
Small Note: Not The Creator as in God, nor his own Mother, but The Creator in the Story, Lost in Space, who created Robot. So in the Story… Robot had to stop. He had no choice. I stopped. I was the writer of Lost in Space. I wrote Robot. Robot was me. Robot lost his will to continue. Robot was a piece of existential writing. A land mark in Time. An examination of Man's will, not when it was weak, but rather when it was very clarified. Very Lost in Space Human Being looking at Being. Time. Space. Existence. Meaning. Mid life crisis here entered. Crept in slowly.. Continued into old age.. Wrote into the world and walked forward into what was very hard. Learned as he lived. I lived. Learned as I unravelled The Story of me and I know Meaning, but scarily, as Meaningless. Yet liberating. Somehow liberating and also, the concept of meaninglessness, just becomes, in itself, Another meaning, until no matter how meaningless it gets, it will always have meaning. That is the Universe! Or, and perhaps more poignantly, that is Man. We will always create Meaning. Our Meaning. Always. For ever. That is our Destiny.