Lord of the Flies. In a Factory.

A diamond shatters. Who's to blame?

I don't know what process diamonds actually undergo, but let's run with the following. If it makes you feel better, it's an experiment that exists totally within my mind, so it doesn't matter if it correlates to reality.

At the final checkpoint in mining, diamonds pass through a conveyor belt, at the end of which a man with a tiny little archaeologist's hammer taps them, just once, light vibrations like a ghostly presence, just outside audible reality. The diamonds, though vibrating, maintain their internal quality, and move on.

But one little diamond moves along the track, without a sense of apprehension (he is, after all, a diamond), and reaches the little man with his little hammer. The strike - a crash in the air that disrupts all of his peers' subtleties and emanations - and the diamond shatters. In the instant of the strike, he feels (because our diamonds, now, can feel) the presence of a hairline fracture deep within, a little fracture he'd never have noticed, were it not for the little man's little hammer's little blow, but a flaw, nevertheless. He disintegrates onto the tracks of the conveyor.

The diamond shatters, but the agent of its destruction can't be to blame; after all, so many other diamonds had come before, and so many would hereafter, that survived the trial of the little man's little hammer's little strike. The instrument of destruction cannot be held accountable for the destruction. The diamond was flawed.

The diamond was doomed.