Dialogue

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“Why do we conform, obey so willingly,” she pondered, eyes lowered so as to forget the momentarily mute listener before her, to relinquish the thoughts that troubled her too frequently, “to an oppressive, higher power? Because we’re scared, or because, secretly, we really want to hurt others. Maybe we’re not totally fundamentally good. Maybe… we’re both. Half good, half bad. It would make sense because there’s always a part of us that wants to do the wrong thing, the evil thing, right? We’re never completely pure, perfect, without blame…” She sighed, beginning to lose herself in the confused haze of her thoughts. “Like, little kids… They usually enjoy inflicting pain on others, manipulating… because it gives them some semblance of control. Some never grow out of that, never conform to what society claims is good.”

“It’s not just society, though,” the listener interjected, having a sudden urge to voice his opinion, “It’s also what our conscience dictates.”

“But,” she countered, increasingly confident, lips curving upward slightly with the pleasure that comes with winning a battle before it has truly begun, “what forms our conscience?”

“Ah,” he sighed with what the girl smugly interpreted as the morose acceptance of defeat, “well…”

“Hmm?”

“Well, conscience could be formed by society, as you think, but how would that make any sense?” he questioned, setting comfortably into his argument.

“What do you mean?” she muttered, annoyed by her own morbid curiosity to see her own argument slaughtered.

“Well,” he continued, “if there were only one overarching society, your argument would be reasonable, but, since no such global organization exists, you’ve got to realize that even without being connected by any form of communication, all civilized people have the same basic ideas on the subject of morality.”

Frowning, she understood but did not totally accept his words, as she thought herself capable of disproving them. However, she contented herself in listening, deciding to allow him to continue before challenging his reasoning.

“Like,” he went on, “all people, in all places, at all times, have always realized that some things are right, and others are wrong. There has always been that idea of good and evil.”

“Umm… human sacrifice?”

“Ok,” he relented, grinning, “maybe I went a little far in saying that we’ve always been moral, but you get the idea, right? We’re evolving, growing into ourselves, into the godlike beings we were created to be.”

“Why,” she huffed, annoyed at his lack of original thought, “do people assume that they know everything about God? They go as far as to categorize Him, encasing an infinitely inexplicable force into a finite box with words like Father, Son, Holy Spirit…”

“People use words such as those so they can feel closer to God…”

“Sorry,” she sighed, shaking her head, biting her lip, “but I just don’t like how you assume to know His plan for us because, really, when it comes down to it, we can’t be sure of anything pertaining to the spiritual realm. That’s why so many bury themselves in science, in math, to attempt to forget our ultimate ignorance, that all attempts to search for truth are futile…because there is no Truth, or at least not one that we can ever find…”

“I didn’t mean to claim that I think I know everything. I’m sorry you thought I was, because, really, we’re saying the same thing in dissimilar ways. We’re both looking for that Truth you speak of, the one we can’t quite reach. I don’t know if we ever can… but, well, we’re alive, and are thereby similarly fueled by a mysteriously intense desire to understand. So,” he mused, cocking his head in invitation, “we might as well try, right? Does it really matter how we go about it?”

“The ends don’t justify the means.”

Amused, he chucked.

“What?” she grumbled, resentful.

Meeting her emerald gaze, he informed her that she had inadvertently proven his argument. “You sound like me.”





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