It was a perfectly ordinary, completely regular night in Goiky.
Fanny was sitting on the grass, not doing much of anything except... existing. Contemplating. Ruminating. The rest of Death P.A.C.T. (Again) is still going around in circles, chasing after troublemakers left and right, trying to prevent casualties, continuing their futile efforts and all that. She keeps up those pretenses whenever they're looking at her, whenever someone's complaining about her again, but whenever she gets a moment *truly* to herself, whenever she finally has time to take in and digest everything she'd been through, she'd just... relax. Take a break.
Why did the one that hate everyone and everything... do that, exactly? It's a question that's been asked time and time again, by plenty of people during plenty of events. Even her teammates, those that are supposed to know better, ask her the big *why* every now and again. There were around 2,763 ways to tackle that little issue, that big enigma, but one she often went back to was... well, there were just some things that *needed* to be hated. Things that are too awful to just... allow.
Take the P.A.C.T., for instance. Their mission statement is to prevent death, to stop it whenever it may arise, and to instill into people a sense of wonder and amazement at the miracle that is life. Why do *they* do *that*? If there's one thing that years and years of Battling for Dream Island has taught them, it's that death is inevitable, that it's a part of life. You pop into existence, you do stuff, then you are swiftly turned into dust by some inexplicable force that is beyond your comprehension. It's not like death is a permanent thing, anyway; in no time at all, you can pop out of a metal box and continue on with your life as if nothing had happened. What's all the fuss, then? Why expend so much time and energy preventing death when it ultimately amounts to nothing in the end?
The answers they give are always the same; they may word it differently, but the electric fan is wise to those tricks. There's just something... fundamentally wrong with death. You see, living is the usual state; everything they've ever known and experienced, they've felt those things while they were living. To die is to put an end to that sensation, it is the exact opposite of living. When you die, everything is taken away from you, and you are exiled to... who knows where, in a state of who knows what, and (depending on how much people bother; just ask Clock) for who knows how long. Everyone can unanimously agree that *that*... isn't good. Not very good at all. As such, anything that causes that also isn't good. Dying does, in fact, cause that, and so it isn't good. It's bad. It's something that they'd rather not have to deal with. It's something they'd rather avoid on a daily basis. It's something that they... hated.
The universe isn't perfect. It has all sorts of flaws that cause inanimate objects to become animate, that cause speaker boxes and algebralians to fall out of the sky, that cause them all to make such a big deal out of an island they've never seen before. Perhaps they do these things inadvertently, not knowing that what they're doing is malicious and harmful; maybe they are very much aware of that fact, and are doing it *because* of that. If it's the former, *somebody* has to let them know. If it's the latter, *somebody* has to stop them. If it's not gonna be anyone else, then it might as well be the responsibility of the electrical device responsible for air circulation. Who else was gonna do it? *Needle*?
That particular line of thought leads to a rather troubling concept, however. Most people do terrible things by accident, sure. But there's also the exceptional few that know *exactly* what they're doing, know that what they do harms and kills people, and yet... they do it anyway.
*Why*?
The primary goal of any living being is to maximize their happiness and wellbeing. One does that by taking care of one's needs. One such need is the need to socialize; one desires to hang around others, to know that they're not alone in this miserable little world. Hurting others almost certainly gets in the way of that. When you inconvenience others for no reason, that makes them likely to inconvenience you back in retaliation. One *definitely* does not want to be inconvenienced, do they not? As such, in a perfect, ideal world, the only winning move is to... *not* be a complete pain on everyone's side. Just be kind. Just be nice. How hard can it be?
