Camus' famous essay, the Myth of Sisyphus, tackles what Camus termed the most important philosophical question: the question of suicide. When man is confronted with an absurd and uncaring universe where all struggle is ultimately fruitless, what should he do? Continue in defiance, because suicide is escapist. You cannot escape a problem; you can only confront it.

Apparently, Sisyphus has never heard of the concept of a metastable state.

/msg sisyphus If you're tired of pushing that rock up the hill, how about making an indentation in the top of the hill, and then pushing the rock into the indentation?

In reference to yerricde's suggestion as to how Sisyphus can end his punishment, Albert Camus would argue that Sisyphus would precisely refuse to do such a thing, because he does not wish to end his futile task.

The absurdity in Sisyphus lies in his continued defiance of the gods. Even in his punishment, he is defiant, because he refuses to accept this as a punishment; the gods want him to feel repentful for his actions through this futile labour, but Sisyphus does not repent. They want him to hope for an end to it, and each time the boulder rolls back down he feels despair as that bit of hope in him dies once more.

Sisyphus does not harbour hope; he knows that against the all-powerful immortals, he doesn't stand a chance. So maybe he can place the rock atop the hill without it falling back down, but what would that accomplish? To hope that the gods would then allow him respite would be silly, since Zeus isn't really a guy into that whole forgiveness thing. No, he knows that he will be punished for eternity, so ending this roll-rock-up-hill thing is just as meaningless as continuing through his labour.

That is what makes Sisyphus the Absurd Hero; he sees that everything is meaningless, yet in spite of that continues to roll his rock, loving his eternal struggle as his lack of remorse is an eternal revolt against the immortals; his lack of regret affirms the love of life he had and still has.

I saw Sisyphus die on the street today. The gods, who ceased to exist long ago due to lack of interest, cleaned out all offices and liquidated their assets quite thoroughly, for the most part - with one exception. Through some flaw in bookkeeping, they had lost all records of the Sisyphus Project. Perhaps accounting had thrown them out, as the sheets always seemed to be balanced already.

Millennia later, there he stood, gawking and grinning, on the sidewalk. Perhaps, in some happy accident, an ExxonMobil accountant came across this "Sisyphus Project" that had somehow ended up in their books, investigated, and reported this minor, undue drain on the bottom line.

ExxonMobil rewarded his vigilance with a $25 bonus.

Sisyphus set forth with all intent to cross the busy street, I gathered. Being, I infer, from another time newly come, he seemed unsure of how one goes about this. He looked left to begin, and - seeing no hunks of metal hurtling toward him - stepped forward. The funny thing is this: his eyes were locked to his left for his entire journey to the center of the street. Only upon arriving at the yellow paint did Sisyphus turn his head right, where an automobile - denizen of the leftmost lane of travel it perceived to be available to it - expressed its annoyance, its anger, its fear by making a discordant shout at him. Once it sped past, Sisyphus spun full around in place and fell to the ground.

As I watched his crumpled body twitch on the asphalt, I swear to you, his visage bore a smile still.