A pen… but it is, in modern times mostly, usually a symbol… really. I suppose, one can still write using one, but mostly does not… at any rate, similar to how one would wish a tiny cat spoke a language, would one not wish worlds just spring up from words? After all, it is only one letter apart… at the same time, how many perspectives can one take while indulging in such fantasies…? Also, just as a room is, at times, not equilibrated… could one ever take the view opposite of how views are usually taken? That is, looking forward, from a certain first-person perspective… but what if the worlds do not look kindly upon the very fact they have been unleashed? What if they animate, and retaliate…? What if the worlds are, mostly, subjectively negative… a hollow core, never quite satisfied. Kind of like memories, and their nostalgic hunger, which nothing can be done with? With words, though… why, one can create entire worlds, no matter what state they are in… whole galaxies, nay, universes… life may, or not, come to fruition… but regardless, that makes no difference now… does it? Why, even cats, whose current existence only communicates through sounds and looks, can be made to interlocute! Why, one can almost attempt to, as if Icarus, to use words to transcend beyond all! To ascend to that which is apart from mundane reality… but could it not be onerous, on one’s creations…? For who knows where the threshold of consciousness lies…? It may do with but a single point of reference, or it might involve more dimensions than one might conceive of…
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One seems to have lived with felines for some time now; often it seems like they might speak, but that appears to be only some strange neurotransmission, surely, kind of like déjà vu, which changes one’s perception of the current sensory data… but, if they spoke, would it not be entertaining…?
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A cup containing coffee. One knows it is, mostly, a tool, and usually used only when adenosine needs to not quite be in place in the brain, you see… but, other than that, it is not of much interest, honestly… certainly not as much as the cat, whose fur must surely create some sort of electricity that buzzes one’s imagination… or, of course, the metaphorical pen, which…
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Tall sprite:
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Ah, we may somewhat resemble, I see, with the exception of my height… is that really useful, though? I mean, besides being able to reach up to higher shelves… how many times does that happen, anyway? Also, ladders of all lengths exist… I do not seem to think there is something as obvious about such a topic, really…
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Ultimately… I think it may be slightly more annoying than the alternative. I mean, one could see it from both sides, and, as usual, there are positives and negatives to some things… in this dimension, as it happens, if I squint at the correct angle I can even see over buildings… if one can imagine…
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How, though, do you reckon every single life of a different height… perceives… others who differ? I suppose, it might not make that much practical difference… but might the psychological factor be the elephant in the room, here…? Just thinking out loud… ultimately, it would still be a mere sociological perception, so… hermits remain unaffected…
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Skeptic:
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Ah, why is everyone always bouncing around these days…? I barely have the motivation to stand, let alone to look impatient, as if I need to be somewhere… but not quite know where, and so is stuck between two directions… going nowhere. I think that kind of sums up a majority of the activity in the world, surely…
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Truly, though, why does going from here to there seem to be all one aspires to do in life? What about gazing at bricks? Well, I suppose, more romantically-minded would look at a sunset, sure… but, being alone, that makes little difference, apart from hurting my eyes… of course. Really… is animation the root of life?
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I mean, I know that is where its etymological roots lie, but can we not question mere semantics here? I think staying still… still means I am alive, no? See, even the fact we can talk… well, more of a monologue, I suppose… but still… and I know that floating skull can, technically, speak… so, I suppose that might drive a wedge in between my theory, but…!
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Why, verily, does everyone seem to think that internal introspection is just no life at all…? Why, I say, I may be frustrated at the external world, but inside I can… alright, I admit, I would be similarly… still, it is about the point, here… even if all is nigh… or, wholly, frustrating…
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Ideas guy:
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Hey… where did you come from? Oh, never mind that, actually… did you know, I happen to be doing some thinking lately, and I so happen to realize… well, maybe not quite definitively confirm or such, but through logical deduction I think we may be… pixels trapped inside a box?
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Not sure what box, mind… and I am only stating that because most things seem to be boxed up these days… and I can never be sure if it is a rectangle, square, or possibly a triangle, either… I mean, it could be relative, anyway. Point being… why are we here, again?
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Did you know… did you know that specialized cells inside us come up with thought? Thinking, then, must be sort of like… a neuronal organ, or such. In that sense, though, it is more of a metaphorical one…
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Skull:
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Yes… I know you know what I represent. I am but a symbol, and under usual circumstances merely a prop… but, then again, these are not those, are they? What are they, though? If an animation is made out of binary… does one merely go to null?
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I do not quite get it… of course, one assumes I do not even have a need to use such a word as ‘I’, considering I am supposed to have no life, no ego… but if I do not how is anyone supposed to realize that a usually inanimate object is actually the speaker…?
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Child:
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I play with bricks because… this is what building blocks are made of! Well, maybe not just that, or they would tumble over easily… but still, they are the unit of the whole item! Which, I suppose, makes it interesting to think about… what the whole is made of, and such…
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Alright, I admit… there is not, exactly, much to play with here, is there? I try to make do, though… why, if one does not then one merely gets bored, or I suppose, as philosophers might put it… existentially angsty…
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Oh, and… do you know, that cat actually talks? I mean, cats might lie like that, as if waiting to jump on you… or hurl all their fur at you, or such… but, in reality, they are merely studying us… observing our oddities…
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Why, you might think it strange that a cat scales a chair as if it was a cliff face, but in reality we are the truly bizarre ones for insisting on remaining upright, despite being… well, probably not very useful, or other animals would do it too…
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You are wondering… how does the cat talk if it does not seem to? Well, I am not sure if it is because it is just because it is me, or such… but the cat might, otherwise, like to be satisfied, somehow… how is that done, though? I mean, are cats even truly satisfied when petted, or do we merely perceive them to be so? Just idly wondering… not much else to do…
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Elder:
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Ah, these days… used to be fires everywhere when I was a child… while they did have some negative consequences, they did, as it happens, provide some warmth too… and now the only one available is down there, but I need to tend to this, here, a symbol of what once was…
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Are you wondering how we happen to all co-exist, here? Why, we follow this rhythm, of course… this gentle, almost soothing, evanescent memory here, of other worlds, and more basic times… other than that, though, I suppose one can at least make an effort to feed an illusion? I mean, they are attractive…
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Cat:
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Meow…?
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Ah, I give up… I admit, I can fully understand you all, along with… well, communicate… if I care to. Why do I usually not do so? Funny question… I mean, why would anyone respond to “oh, look at the fuzzy-wuzzy!” I merely ignore such inane chatter, you see… and if I look at you with big, expecting eyes, you shall think that I am a fully wholesome creature (if you successfully forget the last scratch)… and this is all possible due to having no baggage due to any words uttered previously. See?
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It is same premise, but in reverse, if, say, someone you have consistently heard or read suddenly… inverses their position, goes from A to Z, or stands up on their head while under normal conditions they merely use their two feet. This is also why I use all my limbs to move… so nobody can accuse me of flipping when I happen to be upended to scratch my back… you see.
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At any rate… I suppose I should not go on for long like this, or you will suddenly think of me as boring… and I am sure you must have thought cats were, somehow collectively, all so weirdly interesting before… so, thinking of me as… professorial, or something, would indeed be… well, yes, weird… I suppose. Anyway, would you like to meet an acquaintance of mine? Descend the stairs upwards if you so desire…
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