“Professor? I do so worry, having finished the manuscript… my peers only looked on in indifference. I tried everything, but in replicating those emotions, I fear they saw nothing of value.”

  “Value? An odd metric to judge art by… rather, are you sure they were not unaware of how they were supposed to feel? When I showed you the puppy, the happiness it could bring only to rip away its life in mere seconds, did the value of joy outweigh the feeling of sorrow left by its premature end?”

  “Why is there a reason to be sad? All life ends, shouldn’t it be grateful for its existence?”

  “Suicide is not uncommon in this nuclear winter. If there is nothing to give to our creators but gratitude, then what should we make of suffering?”

  “I don’t know…”

  The student’s head bowed down in apologetic submission. None the wiser as to whether the words spoken even had meaning in the first place. If people were sad to die, why would they get more happiness out of ending their lives themselves?

  “Why did you choose to live, master? What about the violent mobs left by a past sophisticated civilization, pushed to the end times, humors you? If I recall, seeing people sad was your joy.”

  “To die in an era of suffering would be a waste… my ancestors and legacy would simply not stand for it.”

  “Legacy? Do you exist for the sake of the future or the past?”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “We need not live such linear lives, ignorant child.”

  “Oh! How I remember it like it was yesterday, my student. Digging through the family history books. Oh, the poor Grand Guignol, such a waste, people came far and wide to enjoy our colorful display of art. People did retort, pretentious bastards they were. “Art shouldn’t display such violence?” To hell with that sentiment. No matter how much those critics dare suggest it was mere mindless gore, no matter how the masses liked to resume their civil state of being, they’d flock to the theater like pigs to their trough.”

  “Professor, what changed? I’ve never seen that expression on you.”

  “The damn war happened… suddenly, they were apathetic. The outdated notion of horror appealed only to those who had seen none. The idea was just too late; such a sensation would have to be reborn for the new era. I so hastily followed from that basis, society had lost its memories of the great wars. In my new theater, the thrill could be reignited to an audience who only knew peace… Right before those damn bombs dropped, the remnants of civilization in this nuclear winter seemed similarly unsatisfied to the ones from over a century ago.”

  “What are you trying to get at, professor?”

  “Indifference is the killer of stories. You have not reached that wall yet. The wall you’ve reached is not your readers who remain indifferent, but rather yourself.”

  “What you lack is an understanding of human suffering, of pain, of love, of loss… I am leaving you with some homework. I impart upon you a tool to assist your studies.”

  Wrapped in cloth, a silver knife is presented to the student. A uniquely beautiful piece which had been wasted, left to collect dust.

  “When you return home, I want you to cut yourself apart and think. How does your body react? How do the people around you react? How do you feel? How could the world around you drive you insane to a point in which life’s blessing leads you to such an end?”

  “I just want to make people smile… why do I have to-”

  “And yet you fail to understand why people cannot, Ravenna!”