[MGW] 88 -- Fleeting Victories
Apr. 11th, 2008 02:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elementof_risk"The moment of victory is much too short to live for that and nothing else." - Martina Navratilova
The game is always changing, the players moving around the board, shuffling, being captured, falling off completely, changing sides, switching back, forming unlikely allegiances then breaking them apart again. The endgame you're working toward can change in a month, a year, a moment and the board you were studying for years is suddenly a different game altogether. Victory is fleeting, ephemeral, and the tables can turn just as fast. One mission you win, the next they do. One day success is in your hands, and the next you're in a cell or a grave or running from both. You can't live for the win in this game, and so many of the people I've worked with don't seem to realize that. The endgame becomes everything to them, and when it comes and they've won, or worse it slips out of their grasp and falls away as even a possibility, they're left with nothing.
Without Rambaldi, what would Sloane have been? It was an obsession, a victory over death itself that he reached for, but at what cost? And if he achieved it, then what? What would have come next with his daughter, his wife, his friends lost in his pursuit? It cost Irina her life. It cost Lauren hers. Even without that loss, when one goal is achieved there is always the question of "what now?"
Endgames are pointless because of it. You work for 30 years to achieve one thing, and whatever that thing is, it doesn't last. It can be ripped away from you in a second, and even if you keep it...what are you living for, then? I'm not against goals or striving to achieve at all, but to put everything you have into one thing? To spend your whole life working for one objective that could be ripped from you in a moment as the board switches? Why? I helped them, I worked with them, but their goals were never mine. I didn't care about their endgame.
I care about the game itself. You can't live for the win, can't live for the victory, because it is so fleeting as to not matter. I live for the game. For the ups and downs of it, the moments of victory, and the moments of being bested and learning to do it better the next time. The rush of it, the thrill, the sure knowledge that the game itself never ends. It was in play before I was born, and it will go on long after I'm gone. It's the shift of power, the manipulation of chance, the staying one step ahead of the rest of the board. Keep them off balance, play them against each other, work for whichever side seems to be winning, then switch when the tables turn. It's no difference to me what you want, who you are working for, or why you need what you need from me. Keep your endgames and long-term objectives. I don't want them. I've seen what happens when you become obsessed, and I won't let it happen to me. Give me something to do, some mission to achieve, then let me move on to the next, for you or someone else. I don't care if you win or lose, so long as I come out of it alive and a bit better off than before. One day, my luck will likely run out. I can accept that. It's one of the risks of the game, and the risk of it all is what makes life worth living and lets you know you're alive.
The game is always changing, the players moving around the board, shuffling, being captured, falling off completely, changing sides, switching back, forming unlikely allegiances then breaking them apart again. The endgame you're working toward can change in a month, a year, a moment and the board you were studying for years is suddenly a different game altogether. Victory is fleeting, ephemeral, and the tables can turn just as fast. One mission you win, the next they do. One day success is in your hands, and the next you're in a cell or a grave or running from both. You can't live for the win in this game, and so many of the people I've worked with don't seem to realize that. The endgame becomes everything to them, and when it comes and they've won, or worse it slips out of their grasp and falls away as even a possibility, they're left with nothing.
Without Rambaldi, what would Sloane have been? It was an obsession, a victory over death itself that he reached for, but at what cost? And if he achieved it, then what? What would have come next with his daughter, his wife, his friends lost in his pursuit? It cost Irina her life. It cost Lauren hers. Even without that loss, when one goal is achieved there is always the question of "what now?"
Endgames are pointless because of it. You work for 30 years to achieve one thing, and whatever that thing is, it doesn't last. It can be ripped away from you in a second, and even if you keep it...what are you living for, then? I'm not against goals or striving to achieve at all, but to put everything you have into one thing? To spend your whole life working for one objective that could be ripped from you in a moment as the board switches? Why? I helped them, I worked with them, but their goals were never mine. I didn't care about their endgame.
I care about the game itself. You can't live for the win, can't live for the victory, because it is so fleeting as to not matter. I live for the game. For the ups and downs of it, the moments of victory, and the moments of being bested and learning to do it better the next time. The rush of it, the thrill, the sure knowledge that the game itself never ends. It was in play before I was born, and it will go on long after I'm gone. It's the shift of power, the manipulation of chance, the staying one step ahead of the rest of the board. Keep them off balance, play them against each other, work for whichever side seems to be winning, then switch when the tables turn. It's no difference to me what you want, who you are working for, or why you need what you need from me. Keep your endgames and long-term objectives. I don't want them. I've seen what happens when you become obsessed, and I won't let it happen to me. Give me something to do, some mission to achieve, then let me move on to the next, for you or someone else. I don't care if you win or lose, so long as I come out of it alive and a bit better off than before. One day, my luck will likely run out. I can accept that. It's one of the risks of the game, and the risk of it all is what makes life worth living and lets you know you're alive.
