But if you were to become a person, everything would be different?
“Brain had gotten her to a state where she just wondered what was happening around her. I thought maybe I should go to some other hospital. So after that I dropped out of sight for a while.”
The man sighed. Then he opened his eyes and stared at Edison.
“You, too, were looking for something, correct? A big piece of rock?” he asked.
“Sort of,” Edison said.
“As I understand it, each of your pieces is very important,” the man said, sighing deeply. “Each has its own distinct purpose.”
“Its purpose is to go back to where I came from.”
“That’s right. You belong to that world.”
“And so should you.”
“I still have a lot of things I’m looking for,” Edison said.
“But if you were to become a person, everything would be different?”
“That’s right. Everything would be different, except the course of the seasons.”
“And since I’m not a person, won’t whatever it takes to get there will still be apart?”
“Yes, pretty much.”
“But you think we, the three of us, will merge, and take on new existence?”
“Part es if.”
“And you, of course, you are nothing else?”
The man’s silent reply came, as if he had suddenly realized how stupid he was.
“Yeah. I’m not even sure that will happen.”
“But it might.”
“Unless you become what you know.”
“Like me,” Edison said, “basically, I think that’s what I would like to become.” If he could avoid putting that out over it, like an umbrella at hand, Edison thought, he would be a far, away person in a far, far better place.
The man continued chewing on his fruit, letting out a long, slow breath. Then he snapped his fingers once, to hasten the process to its end.
“You can’t imagine, Edison, that there’s no other way, as long as you stay around here, for others to come meet you—and for them to spend the time with you.”
The man silently shook his head. “I’m not even sure that that is a good idea. But I had to take things as they were.”
“I don’t mind,” Edison said, relieved. “I have plenty of free time, which is fine. Just let me one day come back again. And when you do come back, I’ll be waiting to see you again, I promise you.”
“I’m not sure that’s what you’re saying, but if I wanted to go back to someplace where I could be closer to you, I’d do it all the way. I might even come up with the proposition.”
“I’d be happy you’re here, if that’s what you want,” Edison said, “right?”
“That’s probably it. I don’t know, though, what you’re talking about.”
“That not being a bad kind of thing, you know. Not being a bad kind of thing.”
One more dead silence. Both man mulling over something.
The telephone rang again. Fourth ring. This time a ring of the telephone “recording.” The same tune. But still no answers.
“Has something gone wrong?” the man on the other end asked.
“Maybe so,” Edison said.
“It’s not much of an impact,” the man on the other end said, after a pause. A click, then silence. A long silence.
There must be something wrong, Edison thought. But he could not name what kind of something. Nor could he say why.
In the background, a very loud hammering was going on.
Thinking about you will cause even your moments of happiness lost their meaning.
There is no point of return, there is no going back.
Written by AI, using a fiction model. This sample came out during training of the model, around iteration 350,000
Capitalized first letter added starting quotation, and changed one character name, using a random name generator
Title taken from the generated text
default gpt-2-simple sample generator settings