“There’s no smoke without fire.”
Wandering about the old question of existence has been a habit of Sans for a while, since his arrival at Snowdon alongside his brother. Much like his habitual arrival every hour at Grillby’s for a snack break. Much like his habitual visit to Waterfall, the part of the river where there’s no one around.
When they came to Snowdin, they came in the most straightforward manner. Straight out of nowhere, but not straightforward enough for it to make sense. There was a house, it was left by someone. It had things that made themselves believe they belong there. Or at least, the thing that address that it was then belong to them to inherit.
So for Sans, there is a where, there is a what. And because here is a place now and that he thinks, therefore he is. There must be a start as to where he was and a place before. Therefore he also was.
The place they were left with explains two things. Where they are. But it also explains that because they were there, it more or less means this is where they were, were he was. As evidences would suggest that things do feel belong, but just because you feel belong doesn’t mean you own it. And because they were, also means they everyone else would knew that they were there. Everyone was. But no one knows who they were. Everyone wasn’t.
For a tree to falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it. Its existence only validates by the other trees.
The river runs gently. Waterfall is vast and shiny as it always has been. Sans finds himself submerge in the stream of glowing blue.
He asks the river. “what are you?”
The river responds “I am a process.”
“a process needs an end goal.”
“The process is the end goal.”
A clock is a machine. A gear is a tool. There’s rarely any joy in a frictionless world. The river says friction is resistance to flow. When you read a book you get to an end. When you ask someone a question you get a vague answer. A hammer is a tool. For a nail it’s an end goal. For your enemy it’s an inconvenient. The world is boring once you found out what leads to one another. For an answer to contain itself in a question is to ask indefinitely until you die.
This is an argument about process.
For the first time in his life Sans is happy.