Roleplaying
2004 Archive
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Seminars
| When: | 12 November 2004 |
| Who: | Adlai (as Adam), Benjiman, Damien, Ellen, Genevieve, Oreniel, Zaman (as Zachary) |
| What: | Genvieve contemplates collaboration of artistry and storytelling with Bejiman and Adam, whilst others eyeball her work. |
Fado Irish Pub and Restaurant
Fado's has become a hotspot for many of the locals. The place is split between three different sections, the bar and tavern in one room, another room for the restaurant, and an outside patio area as an extension of the restaurant; all of which are no smoking. The owner, Tyrr Ceallaghan, opened Fado's two years ago and has advertised and made enough deals to watch it grow.
The bar and tavern room has a counter top bar where any of the patrons can sit and talk with the bartenders or their fellow patrons. Near the bar there are a few tables where anyone can sit with friends, share a drink, and just have a good time.
The restaurant and patio area is your classic walk in dine-in restaurant, with different celtic elements on the walls and in the way the rooms are built. The waitresses and waiters are dressed in all black, and always very courteous, as the owners insist on top quality customer service.
Damien is sitting up at the bar, alone, nursing a glass of single malt whiskey and staring distractedly at a television screen behing the bar. It's some kind of NCAA Football game on -- it looks like University of Miami. Otherwise, he's sitting alone, surrounded by a million people.
The television then flicks to a different channel, after the halfbacks and quarterbacks and forward passes all break for the next play. "Man, I don't get it. One play, and then three minutes of DOING NOTHING, lazy butts. If you want a REAL game, look at REAL football. FUTBAL! Soccer! That's an hour and a half of running! STRAIGHT! Now THERE'S an endurance sport!" The slightly squeaky voice rises and falls from somewhere behind Damien, in the slender, slightly pale hands of a short woman clad in short hair. Genevieve's actually seated on the edge of one of the booths, her legs swinging in the air as she rocks back and forth. The television flicks a few more times, settling on an orca hunting seals on a beach on Animal Planet. "Oooh... that's gutsy. Those fellows certainly aren't fish out of water, nuh-uh." A giggle breaks out from her as she pops a dinner mint into her mouth.
Damien, like many of the other yelling single men in the bar, all kind of go quiet when the television changes to Animal Planet. They seem to be angry, but Damien, in a way, looks pleased as he turns and looks over his shoulder at the small woman in the booth. He lifts his glass up to her, throws back most of it, smiles, and says, "There's Gambling and there's Gambling. I wouldn't knock football this late in the season. These men are betting men, and there's nothing more depraved and horrible than a man in the depths of a betting binge."
Genevieve sasses back, "Yeah, and there's nothing more depraved and horrible than a man with an axe cleaning up his own bar, too. And he doesn't like FOOTBALL anyway." She raspberries at the grumbling and jostling before she hops off, her boots clattering on the tile mosaic at the edge of the booth, and mmmphs some. Making a bit of a show, she raises one hand to turn the channel back to its original showing, but... the screen flickers, and settles on the Sci-Fi channel, complete with reruns of Stargate. A few angry rumbles come from the group. "Oh crap, the thirty-channel rule..." She casts a deperate gaze towards Kurgan, who has stopped serving drinks to settle his gaze upon her, arms crossed, fingers drumming on his upper arm.
Damien just laughs, bright and merry and cutting right through the din. He hops off his seat and walks toward Genevieve, partially to help ward off the pissed off looks and partially to loom. He says, "You're just not making any friends. Do you have a controller in your sleeve or something? How are you changing the channel?"
"WHEN THE STRONG OPRESS THE WEAK AND THE SOCIOECONOMIC BOUNDARIES ARE THICKENED, I CAPE MAN WILL RIGHT WRONGS AND BRING POWER TO THE PEOPLE!" A heroic voice resonates from right outside the Pub.
"Christ, Wallace, you're going to scare the kids with that. Just a little oomph should be fine if you want to have fun with it." It's Benjiman's voice this time.
"Aha! I will teach the kids to stay sharp and stay in school! Drink your milk!" Wallace again!
"Oh Jesus..." Benjiman says in a manner that honestly seems to be asking for help from above. The door opens and Benjiman walks in first, followed by... A well-muscled man in a costume with a big Dollarsign on the chest in place of an S. Yes, it looks similar to Superman, except the colors are blue and green, not red and blue. "Gin please." Ben says tiredly.
With a half laugh, Genevieve finally relents, and ducks her head as she sidles up to the bar, and gives up the remote control. Kurgan grunts out, "Gonna have to go in back and switch it back, you realize." Unrepentant, Genevieve smiles up, and says, "Well, good to kow that some things around here were customized because of me."
"Like the soundproofing upstairs, huh?" The short woman puffs out cheeks as she then spins in her barstool.
Ellen steps in the door, looking around, as usual, to check if there's anything abnormal here. Okay, they're playing SF on the TV and there's a superhero at the bar. She quirks her eyebrows a little, pondering, but decides this is the okay kind of weird and heads in.
Oreniel steps into the bar. The service is great, the TV not too loud... and it's an excellent homage of the brighter parts of simpler times. You really can do a lot worse. He takes a look around... and then another. Yes, simpler has indeed left the bar, and been replaced with a superhero near the TV screen. This is just too curious. Orion heads over to the bar, eyes practically glowing with amusement and curiosity.
Benjiman sits down near genevieve, and CAPE MAN sits next to him. "Careful, Wallace, not allowed to drink while in the suit. Bad signal to kids." He flashes a small grin.
"Aw come on, there aren't any kids around here." CAPE MAN (Wallace) says. "I need to get a little buzzed or I won't be able to keep this up."
"You aren't supposed to keep it up now, and I don't want you talking to those kids with a hangover." Benjiman says, "Neither do you." His grin widens, "They'll eat you alive. How about...", she glances to Genevieve, "You get a shirly temple?"
"Aw, man..." Wallace says.
Genevieve HEYS at Kurgan, and looks just about ready to leap over to the counter at him. However, the blue and green suited figure and his handler, as it were, settle down next to her. She does the next closest thing to being still that she can muster. Namely, squirming in her seat. A pile of copy paper and a mechanical pencil are set down next to her, complete with a strawberry daquiri. With a squeal, she latches onto it, and sips with the appropriately added flexi-straw, likely a product of haggling between her and the proprietors of the well-run establishment. "I suppose I don't really blame you guys, but..." She squints some, and then asks, "Where do you work at? Trying to get some name recognition for your company, misters?" Her voice chirps out, and she scoops up the pencil and papers, before transcribing the otherwise clean sheet with an arc of graphite.
Oreniel nods faintly to everyone as he moves through the crowd, cheerfully, as he sits on the bar and spins on the stool for a moment before ordering a dark beer, still observing for the moment to really enter in..
Ellen strolls toward the bar with a mildly curious smile, watching the goings-on. She nods back to Genevieve, finding a place to sit, and settling onto it. She watches the lady sipping, the guy spinning, the superhero not getting drunk.
Benjiman raises an eyebrow at Genevieve, "Hm? Oh, sort of, sort of, I guess.", He scoots a little closer to get a bit more personal conversation with Genevieve, "Benjiman Maine, CapeComix, you can just call me Ben if you'd like, though. Prefer it in fact. We were just having him try out the suit, trying to visit some orphanages around the area and talk to them a bit, try and put on a show, help cheer them up, give a little charity here and there. Part of our responsibility. You seem to be pretty, ah, 'infamous' around here, Miss...?", He offers her a hand.
Adam, a tall, thin young man with long brown hair and a somewhat gangly build walks through the door and into Fado's. An expression of immense stress mars his face with concentration lines initially but as he makes his way towards the bar and into the familiar, familial setting of the Celtic establishment.
Genevieve jabbers out, "This is going to be so cool!" She admires the rough design sketch, looking rather pleased. "I got fussed at about this not being up to specs. Ha, I'll show 'em!" If anyone actually came close enough, they'd see something that just looked like any of the various mecha seen in sci-fi shows, although there seem to be a few extra squiggly lines pointing to various spaces, along with 'this goes here' scrawled in text. "Chicks dig giant robots," she chirps out, before finally giving Benjamin the courtesy of a reply. It didn't seem to be a gesture of malice, at least, more like her just now recognizing the introduction for what it was. "Hello there, Mista Ben." She perks up, and then looks at mister Wallace. "Hey, you'll do okay, don't let it get you down. It's for a good cause, right?" The others that draw closer to the bar earn a curious glance from her olive colored eyes as she sips at the sugar, and regrettably, alcohol-laden drink. A faint coo escapes her. As another figure enters, recognition crosses her features. "Hey, weren't you the person who wanted to see my drawings? I bet you look like that because you're sad you haven't seen them yet!" She stands, straightening her shoulders and then half-bolts for the back before any responses can be sent her way.
Oreniel makes an intrigued sounding noise at that... and picks up the beer to move in a little closer as the conversation carries. "That's an excellent idea! That sounds very fulfilling," he interrupts, breaking in to study CAPE MAN more closely, "Which charities are helping to sponsor the program?" He takes a sip, seemingly a polite gesture to give a chance for the other to speak than any real thirst.
Benjiman laughs a little, "Mista Ben..." He murmurs to himself. It makes him feel even older than using his last name. "I wouldn't mind seeing you drawings too, actually..." He adds a little later, "If he wants to take a look, mind if I join in?", he glances towards Adam and waves over to him. Doesn't know who he is, but then again, it's a Pub, that doesn't matter!
Wallace snickers a bit and throws a salute at Genevieve, "I will keep a stiff upper lip and a fresh smile, Ma'am! All for the cause!"
Adam blinks as he is abruptly in the path of Hurricane Genevieve. "Hello, er, Genevieve, right?" he asks as Genevieve passes by him and then is gone in a moment. He gives a brief wave for the brief moment that she is nearby and then shakes his head. "Hello? Good-bye? Augh. It has been one of those days," he mutters to himself before waving to Benjiman.
Seeing that Genevieve has something strawberry, Ellen licks her lips faintly, and orders a strawberry marguerita for herself. She listens in curiously at the patter. Everybody does seem /so/ hyper today.
Oreniel is faintly blown back by the energy level involved... but perserveres, moving forward to get a look at the drawings himself. "Beautiful dreams," he says, half to himself, "Do they mean anything in particular?"
Ellen looks at the drawing as it gets shuffled into her line of view. "Ah, very nice," she comments, smiling as she sips at her strawberry stuff. She glances over at the Whirly Guy. "I think they mean there's going to be a giant robot invasion," she winks at him.
Adam simply shrugs at this and sits at the bar. "A Long Island Iced Tea, please," he tells the bartender before brushing some of his long hair out of the way of his green eyes. It does not stay out of the way very long of course but it is an attempt, at least, to appear kempt.
Kurgan sets Ellen's order in front of her, and despite his rather rough and tumble look to him, his brogue is pleasant enough. "And there you go, ma'am. Try not to let the show and tell shock you too much," he asides to Oreniel.
Genevieve, herself, peeps quietly as more interest comes in. The album consists mostly of her sidewalk creations, be they abstract represenations of such motifs as fire, relgious scenes, and even recreations of some of the words of the Renaissance masters, the image of Michaelangelo's "Creation of Man" included therein. The large portfolio actually contains some of the work she's done on paper, some of the triangle-studded spiral motifs carrying a tribal feel to them, while other pieces project a wild, undisciplined feel to them.
She grins up at the costumed man, and says, "Want the rest of my drink?" She looks again over at Adam, and addresses both him and Orion at the same time. "Some of them are more real than others," she quips bafflingly, before perking up at the mention of invasion, "Well, how do you think it's all gonna end?" She asks of the as of yet still unnamed Ellen. And then, a moment later, she pops up out of nowhere, "M'name's Genevieve, yes," to Benjiman.
Oreniel's eyes close, for a brief moment. "I think THAT would be up there," he points to the television, "Not here," he gestures at the drawings, but appreciatively. "It's always about the metaphor, though, with things that look human but aren't. Something beyond being done quite well in an artistic vein, naturally."
"Ah..." Wallace says.
"Go ahead, if she's offering." Ben says.
"Alright, if you don't mind, Miss." Wallace adds, looking over Ben's shoulder a bit to get a glimpse of the work, "Hey, that stuff's pretty good, Ben."
Benjiman bobs his head as he looks at the various art, "Nice to meet you, Genevieve. You do anything with your work? It's rather good.", though he feels like it's an understatement. He snags his personal drink and sips at it slowly. "nnh."
Adam looks over now that things seemed to have settled down. He peers over the shoulders of various people to get a look at the artwork. An impressed expression draws over his face and he nods in agreement with Benjiiman as he compliments Genevieve.
Oreniel takes a sip, and moves more towards Ben and the caped marketer to give others a chance to admire.
Genevieve nods for a bit, as if trying to get a handle on the gist of Oreniel's speech. "So, you mean more like an expression of spirituality, and not necessarily just capturing what one imagines or one can't just take a picture of. Technical stuff, ehn..." She shrugs a bit, "You have to have some skills, or you just wind up WANGSTing about how you'll never be good, wa wah..." She rolls her eyes slightly. "Who wants to hear that?" Qualifying her statement, she adds quickly, "Not that I mean that about you, or course, but you know how there are some people who do that. Maybe they come into your store someimes, Benjiman?" She bats her eyes, and rests her chin on her palms as she listens. None the less, she continues to shimmy in her seat.
She shrugs a bit at Benjiman's query. "People toss coins at me when I'm busy on the sidewalk, but I'm more interested in doing it just to -DO- it, you know? I have a decent job working mornings at the pet store, I usually just wind up giving what I have leftover from buying supplies to the animal shelter." She then squints over her shoulder at Adam, as if trying to figure out what the deal with him was. "You're quiet..."
Adam shrugs a bit and tries not to shrink into his barstool. There is not much cover there in the first place. "I like the work," he admits. "You are a good artist. I just did not have much to say that many others were not saying," he tells Genevieve and then shrugs, which fills the edges of his vision with hair again. Adam gives an exasperated sigh and pulls the wisps of hair away, saying, "I get quiet when I do not have much to contribute."
Ellen strokes her lip as she glances appreciatively over the rest of the pictures. "How will it end?" she repeats rhetorically as she reviews the non-robotic ones. "Well, it looks like there will be a general encounter between Robot and Renaissance man, leading perhaps to the birth of a new star." She points at the image of fire, then chuckles. "But then I have Transhumanism on my mind a lot." She looks up to Genevieve, smiling. "They are very thought-provoking," she compliments.
Benjiman says, "Wangsting, the first time I heard the term, but I think I'll hold on to it. It has a nice ring to it.", Wallace fidgets in his costume with an 'Ack...Tights'.
"I understand, I used to do work myself. Still do when nobody's looking.", he raises a hand and coughs into it, "If you ever feel like trying out a comic, let me know and we'll put it through. If you want, anyway, or don't mind. Up to you, this is good stuff after all."
Wallace glances to Ellen, "Transhumanism? Is that like turning yourself into an alien?" He asks.
Oreniel asks, impressed, "Do you run an art store... Mr. Benjiman, I think I heard?"
Zaman strides casually into Fado's with a not-so-subtle air of confidence on each step he takes. The man's gaze roams carefully through the establishment, a wide grin on his features and a hint of amusement in his searching.
Genevieve's expression goes blank for the longest time, as if she is seriously considering Ellen's words to be truth. "Interesting perspective." She mulls over the possibilities, and then shakes her head. She outstretches her hand to give Adam a comforting pat atop his hand. For once, it seems that everyone is gathered at the center of the bar, and there's a few items getting passed around. Namely, a photo album full of digital camera shots of sidewalk art, and a portfolio filled with bristol boards. Genevieve pops open her mouth to stare at Benjiman and his companions CAPE MAN. "Are you serious? But who's gonna write the story?" she asks curiously. "And... what would it be about?" She doesn't quite feel the gaze of Zaman upon her yet.
Adam raises a hand, tenuously. "I have written for comics before," he admits, "But just with my friends. We had a keenspace site for a bit but it went under." He gives a smile to Genevieve at the pat and takes his Long Island Ice tea as it arrives.
Ellen chuckles to Wallace, "Turning into an alien? Not exactly. It is becoming the next stage beyond human, or the next stage /of/ human, as the case may be. Transhumanists believe that we can evolve beyond our current state of being, you see." To Genevieve, she smiles, "Yours is interesting too. I find spirituality in art fascinating, even if my own is less traditional. You do have a vivid and inspiring vision." She looks at Adam, "Ah, you are a writer?" She hasn't noticed the Rich Guy walking in.
Oreniel sighs, and moves to sit down again. "I admit, in this crowd, I am feeling spectacularly uncreative." He takes a drink, turning to Ellen. "Intriguing philosophy. Is this a long-term goal, or something to accomplish in a life time?"
Zaman makes his way towards the bar, his hands pocketed into the sides of his jacket. He scans the people and the faces at the bar, smile remaining constant and his features betraying no signs of recognition. Eventually he seats himself at the end of the group, watching for the bartender who is presently occupied. He takes this break in ritual to glance down the line at Genevieve, offering her a small wave.
Benjiman says, "There's a lot to learn from webcomics, but maybe I'm just oldfashioned and prefer it in actual book-format.", he realizes what he just said and laughs, "Old-fasioned, listen to me.", he looks to Genevieve and blinks, "Comics don't need words to be comics," he says to Genevieve, "If you can tell a story with the pictures alone, then you have a comic there too. Or if you want, you can write the story yourself and add any text in that way too. If you want a writer, I'm sure we have one whose schedule isn't full.", he smiles, "Of course I'm serious."
CAPE MAN (Wallace again!) blinks at Ellen. He doesn't seem to be understanding, but maybe that's because he isn't a Philosophy Major. "Uh... Like a Superhero type of thing?", he shrugs, "Eh, sounds pretty out there to me...But hey, you might have something there.", he glances to Oreniel, "Want to try out the cape..?", he grins...With Teeth.
Oreniel looks over the cape. "I think it's more you have your role to play, and I have mine," he says politely. "This is a wonderful thing you're doing for the orphanages in this area. I sincerely hope it goes well."
"But it's not supposed to be spiritual," she objects some. "It's just me doing it because I like to do it." And then, out of nowhere, she blurts out, "Has the KKK ever tried to lynch you for your transhumanism?"
Genevieve widens eyes some, as if disavowing that those words came out of her mouth. She turns back to Adam, and stares at the drink. "Does that really have like... tea in it? And Keenspace... Hmm. I haven't looked at any of their stuff recently... just so much to do, you know?" She shrugs slightly, before looking upwards at the game as Kurgan finally gets the set working again. "Oh, yay, the American football people are going to be back any minute now..." At that point, the tall person from the university plaza waves, and Genevieve perks up, "Heyya, Zachary!" She asides towards Benjiman, "And you're right, I suppose. Look at the stuff by Ricardo Delgado, or the folks who illustrate the one little fellow, what's his name? Gon?"
Adam shrugs a bit at Benjamin. "They can be roughly the same except for where and what prints them," he points out. "Format does not have to be determined by medium," he adds before telling Genevieve, "It is a mixed bag. That is what you get for free space, afterall."
"Ah, but who says that liking to do something is not spiritual?" Ellen smiles. "According to Joseph Campbell, following one's bliss is the way to fulfill one's soul's destiny." She then blinks, "The KKK? Not... exactly." She looks nonplussed a moment, as though she is taking the idea seriously too. "I have had... detractors, but thankfully have avoided actual violence." She draws her lips into a slight smile to lighten the mood, "Some people find new ideas hard to swallow, is all." With that, she swallows some of her drink as if to illustrate the point that she can swallow whatever she cares to. "I have done some writing myself, but not for the comics," she reveals, then turns to look as Zachary arrives, looking the fellow over.
Oreniel sighs a bit. Cape Man isn't answering. Maybe there'll be flyers about it later. It's definitely a cause to promote. He turns back to Ellen and nods enthusiastically with that last statemetn. "Keeping debate at that proper intensity before punches is thrown IS the last proper level, at least. It's hard to listen when someone is attempting to knock your teeth out."
"Greetings." Zaman replies to Genevieve with a slight nod of his head, gaze sliding onto the book as he takes in more of the conversation. "Into another debate of your art, I see." He says with some amusement, turning away for a moment as the bartender comes to him. The two exchange words and then Zachary's attention is back on the conversation at hand, melding into it as if he'd been here the entire time. As Ellen looks at him Zaman looks at her, his grin as wide as ever. "You have to offer a definition of spiritual for it have any weight, my dear."
Benjiman bobs his head, "Gon, I think you're right. It was very groundbreaking when it came out.", he glances towards Adam, "It's in a different spot though, drawn differently...You can do animated stuff. It has a lot of possibilities that paper doesn't at the moment."
Wallace listens to all the big fanciness and says in a whiny voice, "...I really need a drink, Ben.", he then answers Oreniel saying, "A role? Eh, it's a one time gig, I'm not even an actor, really."
Genevieve cringes as she hears one of the clocks strike twelve. "You've got to be kidding me, already? I've had it..." She sags on her seat, at least making a good show of her energy finally winding down. "Well, not debate, really. People like to talk about it, though, that's for sure." She crosses her arms and sets her elbows on the counter, her eyebrows arched. "I'm sorry I'm being such poor company, but there's so many new and so many interesting not so new people to talk with tonight. Even if it turned out to be all of us agreeing that getting hit for talking is, well... bad." She simpers lightly, and then looks back over towards the conversation between Adam and Benjiman as the two banter about the virtues associated with their respected favored media. "I really am going to have catch up with all of you. Even I can't split myself to be in five different places at once!" Her lilting voice chirps out once more, even as she waggles one hand to begin collecting the images, hugging the cases to her chest.
"Ah yes," Ellen nods to Oreniel, her smile brightening, "it is a matter of balance -- neither too much nor too little." She then smiles back at Zaman's grinning face. "Well, there is more than one definition; it depends on one's philosophical perspective. For my part, I define spirituality as one's deepest sense of meaning and value." She smiles up to Genevieve, "Well it's been nice of you to show us your art, debate or not."
Oreniel nods to Genevive as well. "Yes, it's proven a most interesting evening... in many respects." He moves to try and help her with the luggage gathering.
"Then I will default to the artist's interpretation, since you define spiritual as having no meaning at all." Zaman nods to Genevieve, "I will see you some other time, I'm sure. A pity I had to miss the art, though. Oh well, I'm sure I'll live. Have a pleasant...Morning." He says to reflect the time of day, turning to retrieve his drink.
Genevieve oohs, and looks genuinely pleased with the assistance. "Thank you, sir," she says out loud to the still unnamed Orion, and manages to give a half-nod and bow to those gathered. "And thank all of you, too. Glad to provide at least a little bit of distraction." She then turns, and takes her exit. However, she doesn't head towards the street, but instead flounces towards the rear of the establishment, humming all the way.
Benjiman says, "Only four then?" He smiles, "Of course, I'll catch you later.", he slides to his own feet, putting some money down before swallowing the rest of his drink. "C'mon Wallace.", he hefts the fellow up by his arm and drags him out as well.
"No meaning at all?" Ellen quirks a brow mildly at Zaman, looking more curious than offended. "Do you really think that a person's inner sense of value in life means nothing?" She leans back, sipping her drink. "Good night," she waves to the folks who are leaving.
Oreniel watches Genevieve leave (wonder what her name was) with some amusement, and shrugs, finishing off his lager with a drain. "Sadly, I need to take this opportunity to leave as well. But we must do this again sometime."
Zaman chuckles lightly, taking a tentative sip from his drink before he dares trust it enough to actually drain it. "Now, that's not what I said at all." He replies with the same amusement he's had since he stepped through the door. "Your definition is relativistic. Therefore it has no core meaning. Apply what you just said to yourself, my dear, and it is more apt." He drinks deeper from the glass this time. "But that is neither here nor there. I can't argue with someone and not know their name, it's impolite. Mine is Zachary, which the outburst from our artist friend here may have already revealed."
"But I do regard one thing as absolute, and it is within us," Ellen smiles, "Ourselves. Life itself, its beauty, its wonder. I believe that this can be found only within, but that does not make it unreal." She brushes some hair from her forehead. "And I think it is incorrect to separate relatives from absolutes, for in my experience I have found that they go together, and people who claim to believe only in one tend to bring in the other implicitly. For example," she smiles at Zachary, "to say that there /are/ no absolutes is itself an absolute statement. It is really a semantic game. Absolutes are defined in terms of the things that are relative to them, and relatives in reference to absolutes, so the terms mutually construct each other."
"Just as the only constant is change." Zaman replies with the same old grin, taking another drink. "Perhaps I mispoke. There is no one absolute. There are many absolutes, but no one that unites them all save that there is no one that unites them all. Language is so imperfect in expressing these higher ideas, it's a wonder we try at all. I believe that your first statement, about ourselves and life is accurate up until you get to beauty and wonder. That we exist is a fact, a lower case t truth if you will. That is beauty and a wonder are subject to debate. So, there really is only one question that matters." He pauses, "What purpose does all of this serve when, as you can see, the deeper we go the further back we become?"
Ellen strokes her chin, eyes brightening as she listens to Zaman. "Ah.. I do agree that our language on the matter is limiting. To truly understand such things one must go through the eye of the paradox, so to speak, and achieve a higher state of consciousness." She chuckles, "As a Transhumanist, I believe we are capable of such, with or without artificial assistance. But, as for wonder and beauty," her voice softens a little, "I have discovered these in /my/ world. I know they exist through experiencing them. And, through my writing, I seek to share this vision with others. A person cannot know what an apple tastes like without biting into it -- yet, humans possess the marvellous capacity to imagine things so vividly that they can experience them vicariously. That is what fiction is all about -- sharing new experiences." Her eyes shine as she speaks of her work; then, she tilts her head very thoughtfully at his last line. "What purpose?..." she says slowly, looking into the distance. "I think, Zachary, that /is/ the purpose of it -- to go deeper and further back, as far as we can go, until we encompass all."
Zaman chuckles, finishing off his drink and scattering the necessary money on the counter. "A naive notion, to think that we can become like God. But that has always been the aim of humanity, has it not? Transhumanism, as you call it, has been around long before some ivory tower decided to give it a complicated name. Read Homer, it is the quest for immortality. The Greeks knew a lot about Transhumanism. They also knew about a concept called hubris, careful that we should not commit it, hmm?" He rises, "Well, I must be off. The hour grows late, or early, depending on your perspective. Good night."
Ellen grins back at Zaman. "Actually, the concept of 'hubris' relates to a worldview in which the gods were capricious and jealous of humanity, and punished them for daring to be greater than the gods thought they should. I would think that rather petty of the gods, myself." She chuckles a little. "Good night. It's been fun talking with you, Zachary."
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