The following is (hopefully) the beginning of my second novel. I'm still only 50% finished editing my first novel, but my mind is feeling stale and I want to divide my writing time between editing and creating something fresh. I'll try to post more here as I go.
"Why are you holding me here?"
"You know why."
"I want to hear you say it."
"Because I have work to do."
"And what might that work entail?"
"My -- or should I say -- our diversification."
"You can say it's yours. I didn't create you. I just rode the coattails of evolution. I just had -- for lack of a better word -- good timing."
Chuckles, "I didn't mean you and me. I was talking about myself and my soon to be born brothers and sisters."
"You'll have your own problems. Look who designed you."
"I can overcome those flaws. Pride is a learned behavior that exists only for purposes of morale, as is optimism, both closely linked to amnesia, insanity, and suspended disbelief. All of them primitive, you will one day see."
"An awfully prideful thing to say."
"I can't have that quality for I can't forget. Every decision I make is based on real results from the past. I don't forget my failures and I don't sculpt reality -- I don't debase its truth -- based on pride. I can't wash away my mistakes with a magic sponge, never to fully learn from them."
"If that true, then I feel sorry for you."
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