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Rated: 18+ · Draft · Technology · #2127757
The controller is forced to discover.
Has he not sewn the seeds of his own malcontent? When he is wealthy, he spends. Comfort leads to sloth. Only now does he, in dire straights, endeavor to produce.

This is growth. While the markings in his path attempt to guide him in their cryptic ways, he has in the past failed to adhere to their instructions. On his own while being tired, disheveled, demoralized, still he endeavors to control the universe. He plants seeds designed for a cosmic shift that will produce both his salvation, and the microcosm needed for the floodgates of creation and new discovery to open.

He has been spendthrifty and otherwise undisciplined, but he is learning, surviving, crawling to the next rock in aims of satisfying the primal urges that beg survival - their only purpose.

In his infancy of power, he knows only to pray and envision his redemption. With meager means he begs the universe for another chance, his purpose too great, his supervisors too powerful to wait for meager milestones that challenge him to reach stability, his stated requirement for production. But, the cosmos will always have their way. Good.

He is ready. The time is now. He listens and accepts the grant to be awarded, further longing for the day when revelation and comfort may once again coincide.
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