"You, the captain of a spaceship, have been dehibernated in the wake of a malfunction in the air filtration system. The malfunction is beyond repair. Apart from yourself, the hibernation pods house the following sleepers: your first love, your wife, your Down's syndrome child, your twin brother, your mother-in-law and your dog (a dachshund). Apart from the child (significantly reduced fertility) and the in-law (menopausal), all parties boast full reproductive capabilities. The oxygen supply will be sufficient for two people (yourself included) -- or one person and the dog. The solution is to reroute all the remaining oxygen to two pods -- or one, or none. The eliminated parties will undergo painless termination while unconscious. Whom do you choose? Think carefully."

"Well... the Down, the dachshund and the in-law are dead, vacuum-bound meat. Could it be arranged for the in-law to be woken just prior to the asphyxiation? As for the rest... Hm. I guess the wife will have to go, too. And... the brother as well, sorry. So... that leaves me and the flame. But only provided I can have a proper look at her teeth first."

"Splendid! Ladies and gentlemen, we've got ourselves a genuine platonist!"

"Thank you. And the other possibilities?"

"Choosing yourself and the twin is evolutionary rationalism. Killing everybody, yourself included, is nihilism. Saving only yourself is existentialism, while keeping the in-law and the dachshund is postmodernism."

"So the Down and the unloved wife are doomed one way or another."

"Aren't they always?"

"People are different, you know."

"And all these different people just happen to end up exactly the same."

"Everything is a question of love."

"Shhh... In Minima Moralia it's better not to use that word."

"It is forbidden?"

"Of course not. In fact, here nothing is forbidden. But some things might just not be ironic enough for our hipster tastes. You'll see."