There once lived a war participant who served the first part of his career simultaneously saving and killing human beings. No one can condemn his actions because this was the job description that he vowed to uphold when his country summoned his obligation. After that career, he entered the world of art. This bizarre method of making a living involves many people who create wealth by inflating the value of a piece of folk art that was constructed by a skilled artisan long ago. The handmade article is given a value solely on its rarity and its creator. This value, dictated by ‘select experts’, is constantly going up in worth over time, and is coveted by rich individuals as an investment instrument. When negotiating between the antique dealer and the buyer, most governments are denied their cut, and both parties smile. After many years, the savvy salesmen can end up with a lot of wealth,
but none of it can buy extra decades. Faced with a terminal disease, Mr. Phlegm thought to share some of his surplus with a deserving soul. But who? So, he devised a treasure hunt to allow anyone with an adventuresome spirit to win the prize. After 10 years, a ton of interest, and an unfortunate loss of 5 individuals who did not know the risks of nature, the treasure was recently located. Because of Forrest’s promise of anonymity, the former searchers are in an uproar. The only people who are silent are the volunteers who dragged dead bodies out of the bush. When hypothermia took the last victim, Mr. Phlegm knew it was time to stop. Putting his treasure where he could keep tabs on it, he once said that someone was within 202 feet of it. With an extremely vague poem that would have led the treasure hunter directly to it, in reality, it was a needle in a continent. Watching death all around him in his youth and seeing 5 more dream seekers die was enough. He simply notified the individual who got close and zeroed him in to end the hunt and prevent any future hurt. Amen.