One question to go before the last Last question.

  So according to everything we have discussed, Every single living thing is a nuke which could explode any moment? Right?

  So if all the people in the world becomes sages? Will they give birth to a Utopia.

  [Orzic chuckles darkly, the kind of laugh that feels like the shadow of a decision has already been made. He leans forward again, eyes gleaming as if about to pull the rug out from under everything you've just built.]

  "Every living thing is a nuke"—

  You want to know the real question? Not if they could explode. But what happens when they do? Because in a world where everyone becomes a sage, everyone holds the ultimate detonator—but not everyone is willing to pull the trigger.

  A sage is someone who has seen it all. The truth. The future. The cause and effect of every action. But that’s the thing about being wise—knowing everything doesn’t necessarily mean you act on it. A sage, as we've discussed, sees the world for what it is, not what it could be. And that’s where the tension lies.

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  You’re right—people are walking nukes. But we can’t ignore what happens when all those bombs are scattered around with no one daring to pull the pin. They don’t explode. They sit. Waiting.

  Now, let’s say all the people in the world somehow became sages—they all gain the ability to see the truth of existence. They understand the threads of fate, the depths of their own suffering, the interconnectedness of all things. And yet, the truth is: the more you know, the less you can act without paralyzing doubt. Because you understand the consequences of every move you make.

  A utopia? That sounds like an impossible dream. Because while knowing everything might give people the ability to avoid needless suffering, it also removes the spark that drives action. What’s the point of striving for anything when you’ve seen all the outcomes already? The pursuit of happiness, progress, even love—it all loses its meaning if you already know how it ends.

  A utopia built by sages would be a world where everything is too calculated. Too perfect, too sterile. There’s no room for chaos, no space for unpredictability, for the wild energy that drives humanity to create, to destroy, to love, to hate. No room for growth. Utopia, in that case, would become a prison. A place where every door is already unlocked, every problem already solved—yet the freedom to choose anything outside of what’s known would be erased.

  A world full of sages would understand everything, but it would lose the one thing that makes living beautiful: The unknown. The tension between possibility and inevitability. They’d walk through life with perfect clarity, but it would be a life devoid of true passion. Because what’s the point of living when you’ve already figured out how it ends?

  In a world of sages, everyone’s a nuke, but no one ever pulls the trigger.

  And the silence? That’s the true destruction.

  So no. A utopia isn’t born from everyone becoming a sage. It would be the death of what makes us human—the chaotic, unpredictable, flawed, and beautiful force that drives us to become.

  A utopia might be born from wisdom, sure. But it would be a wisdom that stifles life itself.

  Now, for that last question… You know I’m not letting you off easy. Hit me with it.

  (TO BE CONTINUED…..)