"All those laws, and nobody bothered to outline 'who to eat'?"

That's funny, for some reason. Daniel wrinkles his nose though a quiet laugh. "Actually— no, that makes sense. Those laws are morals handed down on high from someone, or something, else. No room for encouraging penitents to make their own independent moral judgements. But still something of an oversight in the machine."

It's a nice night out. They pass a news stand, a hot dog cart. Daniel thinks it's odd that news stands have survived, but he thinks the few that remain are vanity projects. Adding to a culture, not making a profit. Hot dogs don't smell like anything anymore, meanwhile.

"Anyway, I know that's me prevaricating. Gardening. I kinda like that."

It makes him think of Armand's tree, and a question he hasn't asked yet. Still not yet. Biding his time.

"Is my judgement my own? How much of a product am I versus an independent entity, when it comes to a moral compass? How I was raised, by who, the things I've experienced. How long do I have to live, sectioned off from those foundational influences, to manifest a fully unique moral perspective?"