The missing inspiration
John was a novelist. At least, that’s what he liked telling himself.
He had written a book once, almost three years ago. A story set on Mars, with large conspiracies, war, androids, implied aliens. It had it all, and it was surprisingly successful. And people would add him on social media, congratulating, asking questions ranging from specifics about the Mars’s domes and monorails, to whether the main hero is really straight, or he was a bit too friendly with the local shopkeeper.
And he liked answering the questions. He liked talking about what he called “his baby”. He liked it almost as much as the girls that would get with him just so they can post an Instagram story with a famous author.
But three years is a long time, and people start forgetting. One can repost the same quotes only so many times, and John was already seeing his fan base drift away. He was even losing some followers.
And now here he was, struggling with writer’s block. He had started multiple times on his second masterpiece, a follow-up set on Titan, but the story just didn’t gel. The characters didn’t feel real enough to him, so he decided to go sit in the park and do some people watching.
It was a mild May evening, one refraining from being too warm while still carrying a promise for a hellish summer. The children that were still out despite the advancing hours where screaming behind him, immersed in their hide-and-seek, enjoying the deep shadows the night brought. Several couples where up and about too, enjoying different shadows, doing what couples do. A very much normal evening.
“There aren’t even people around worth watching”, John though as he leaned down, holding his head in his hands. “I will never find inspiration here.”
He didn’t notice when she sat next to him on the bench.
“You know, there are certain places that cats especially like, and they will often group there. It’s usually an abundance of food that brings them together. Get them fed by enough people, and soon enough, you’ll have clowder of cats next to a building.” She said.
Her voice was soft enough to not startle him, just bring him out of his thoughts. He raised his head to meet her. She had jet black hair that just about touched her pale shoulders, with the part presented to him tucked behind her left ear. He found her face rather plain looking, but there was something striking about the obsidian eyes behind her bookish glasses. He couldn’t guess much about her figure, as it was hidden by a flowery dress, but from her delicate arms he could guess she was on the slim side. He also couldn’t place her age, and while she looked no more than mid-twenties, her eyes significantly brought that estimate up. She was carrying a tablet that was now resting on her lap, screen turned off.
“I thought cats are attracted to underground waters, or something like that.” John answered back.
“Nah, it’s just about food accessibility usually.” She said, never breaking off her gaze from a fixed point somewhere in front of her. “Cat’s are either hungry or sleeping most of the time, so what better place to sleep than where there is an abundance of food.”
“You seem to like cats?” John was now switching to his seductive tone.
“Oh, I’m mostly indifferent to them. I had a cat-friend once, though. She was all about loving and songs and festivals, but she also liked fighting. She also got a little to well acquainted with my boyfriend at times, but then, that was not so unusual at the time. It was all good story material, but got old for me, and really it was her endless mood swings that made me stop hanging out with her.”
John stopped for a minute to consider the weirdness of that answer. He had his run of crazy fangirls in the past, and they were usually not worth the trouble, but then he concluded that it has been a while, and weird might not be so bad. “So, you just like to bring up random cat facts to random people?” He asked.
“It’s not random.” She was still staring at the same point. “You came here to watch people for inspiration, right?”
“And how do you know that?”
“Aren’t you the guy that wrote that Mars book?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You haven’t written anything in a while, you are obviously here for inspiration. So here I am.”
“And you think I should write about cats?”
An almost imperceivable sigh came out of her, paired with keeping her eyes closed for a moment more than a usual blink. “You see those two over there? They were just talking about the same thing.”
“You can hear them from here?”
“You can hear them too, if only you would listen. Stop thinking they’re boring, and you’ll be able to see their stories.”
“And what’s their story? Are they a couple? Co-workers? Do they own a pet store? Do they even like cats, or are they your friends and just like to bring up cat facts?”
She turned towards him for the first time. “You are the writer, aren’t you? Imagine their lives. Write their story.”
He was now transfixed by her eyes. “I never got your name?” He said, giving the most seductive smile he could muster.
She responded with the same sigh again. “Just call me Cally if you must call me anything. And please, stop thinking about fucking me, it’s not going to happen.” There was no anger in her voice, just mild annoyance.
John threw his hands in the air. “Wow, I never said anything like that. I just wanted to know your name. You are the one that approached me, after all.”
“Now you know my name. But my name alone is not going to inspire you. So, let’s get back to the cats.”
She could really be crazy, John thought. But, she got him interested. “OK, I’ll play along.” he smiled. “The cats? I thought this was about the couple.”
“You are the writer. You choose the subject. You tell the story. I just inspire.”
“OK, inspire away!”
Her eyes narrowed. “I wish you haven’t said that. They were talking about the clowder over there, the last building of the block.” She was pointing with her head to a building behind John, and he turned to see.
“The neighbors must feed the cats a lot there.”
“I said, cats usually congregate to a spot because of food. This time though, they’re attracted.”
“By underground waters?”
Sigh. “You can do better than underground waters. You write science fiction. Think.”
John brought his gaze to his feet in thought, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. “Hmm, maybe... aliens? A species that can hide from us, but secrete some pheromones that attract cats?”
“Not great, but better. Go on. Why are they on Earth?”
“That’s easy, they spy on us, preparing an invasion!” John exclaimed.
Now the sigh was louder, and she held her eyelids closed a bit more. ”Easy, but also very boring. You can do better than this.”
“You are right….” John stopped in thought again. “Maybe they were always here, hidden?”
“Must it be a conspiracy?”
But he was not listening anymore. “Maybe there are different species around, living parallel to us. Maybe they were here even from the very beginning!”
She was still looking at him, fleeting exasperation showing on her face, gesturing with her right hand to keep going.
“So, they would have to be organized. Maybe they are some monitoring group, you know, like the UN has monitoring groups in some countries. Maybe there are multiple organizations running around doing different missions, evaluating us, trying to figure out if we are ready to join the Interstellar Commonwealth. Or… Or, they are here to prepare us for joining the Interstellar Commonwealth, exposing themselves only to certain people in order for the transition to be gentler..”
At that time a guy dressed as a runner passed them, wearing a ridiculous green-purple bandana. He was carrying some kind of letter with him.
“You see that guy! He looks odd, maybe he is one of them.” John exclaimed excitedly, not noticing he was loud enough for the man to hear him. The runner stopped and turned, and just as John was about to apologize for calling him out like that, the runner shouted back:
“Oh, Cally, sorry I didn’t see you there. I’d love to stay and chat, but gotta run, messages to deliver, you know.” And then he added, with excitement. ”I never thought I would say this, but I’m getting quite fond of using legs for a change. Stay cool, gotta run!” Then he laughed. “Get it, run? I’m a runner now! I’m getting good at this humor too!”
Cally looked at the runner briefly, raised her hand in half-hearted wave, and then returned her gaze to John, who was now sitting mouth agape.
“It feels like I’m getting close to something here… Are you actually trying to uncover something for me? Are you an alien?”
She gave a small laugh, first time showing emotion other than annoyance. “Use your imagination for writing, please. So, what about this Interstellar Commonwealth?”
But John’s train of thought was on another track now. ”That man was talking as if he is using legs for the first time, and that was no humor… Is he an alien too? Some kind of messenger?”
Cally just kept looking at him intently, for a moment betraying that she also was considering something. “Yeah, sure, he is an alien, let’s go with that.”
“OMG, this is brilliant! I am a genius to have thought of something like that!”
“Sure, don’t mention the one that started that slow brain of yours thinking. And don’t say OMG at loud, please.” She said, now not even trying to cover her annoyance.
“You are kinda rude.” John said. “But thanks for the inspiration, really. You’ve come to me here just to give me ideas?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m just doing my job. You ask for inspiration, I provide. The fact that I have to inspire a mediocre sci-fi writer is speaking volumes about the state of this world.”
“Mediocre? That’s harsh… I’ve got very good reviews, you know!”
“Harsh, but true. You know that I used to inspire people to write epics? Like proper epic poetry? No one writes epic poetry anymore, so I have to adapt. So yes, you are mediocre. Now, would you say you are inspired, and you’ll go and write your book?”
“Yes, I think that this thing about aliens living among us and having chores to do is fascinating, but...”
“Great!” She exclaimed, not letting him finish. She unlocked her tablet and checked something on the screen. Whatever it was written on the screen, it was in foreign script and therefore gibberish to John. “Now go and write, I have a karaoke to attend.”
“Can I have your number at least? Or your Facebook? Instagram? We could talk some more...” But she had already gotten up, and looking at her tablet, she walked towards the shadows where she got lost to the night.
“I also like karaoke!” he shouted, but she was already gone. He thought about going after her, but conceded. Instead he went home to write his book about the Interstellar Commonwealth.
He had written a book once, almost three years ago. A story set on Mars, with large conspiracies, war, androids, implied aliens. It had it all, and it was surprisingly successful. And people would add him on social media, congratulating, asking questions ranging from specifics about the Mars’s domes and monorails, to whether the main hero is really straight, or he was a bit too friendly with the local shopkeeper.
And he liked answering the questions. He liked talking about what he called “his baby”. He liked it almost as much as the girls that would get with him just so they can post an Instagram story with a famous author.
But three years is a long time, and people start forgetting. One can repost the same quotes only so many times, and John was already seeing his fan base drift away. He was even losing some followers.
And now here he was, struggling with writer’s block. He had started multiple times on his second masterpiece, a follow-up set on Titan, but the story just didn’t gel. The characters didn’t feel real enough to him, so he decided to go sit in the park and do some people watching.
It was a mild May evening, one refraining from being too warm while still carrying a promise for a hellish summer. The children that were still out despite the advancing hours where screaming behind him, immersed in their hide-and-seek, enjoying the deep shadows the night brought. Several couples where up and about too, enjoying different shadows, doing what couples do. A very much normal evening.
“There aren’t even people around worth watching”, John though as he leaned down, holding his head in his hands. “I will never find inspiration here.”
He didn’t notice when she sat next to him on the bench.
“You know, there are certain places that cats especially like, and they will often group there. It’s usually an abundance of food that brings them together. Get them fed by enough people, and soon enough, you’ll have clowder of cats next to a building.” She said.
Her voice was soft enough to not startle him, just bring him out of his thoughts. He raised his head to meet her. She had jet black hair that just about touched her pale shoulders, with the part presented to him tucked behind her left ear. He found her face rather plain looking, but there was something striking about the obsidian eyes behind her bookish glasses. He couldn’t guess much about her figure, as it was hidden by a flowery dress, but from her delicate arms he could guess she was on the slim side. He also couldn’t place her age, and while she looked no more than mid-twenties, her eyes significantly brought that estimate up. She was carrying a tablet that was now resting on her lap, screen turned off.
“I thought cats are attracted to underground waters, or something like that.” John answered back.
“Nah, it’s just about food accessibility usually.” She said, never breaking off her gaze from a fixed point somewhere in front of her. “Cat’s are either hungry or sleeping most of the time, so what better place to sleep than where there is an abundance of food.”
“You seem to like cats?” John was now switching to his seductive tone.
“Oh, I’m mostly indifferent to them. I had a cat-friend once, though. She was all about loving and songs and festivals, but she also liked fighting. She also got a little to well acquainted with my boyfriend at times, but then, that was not so unusual at the time. It was all good story material, but got old for me, and really it was her endless mood swings that made me stop hanging out with her.”
John stopped for a minute to consider the weirdness of that answer. He had his run of crazy fangirls in the past, and they were usually not worth the trouble, but then he concluded that it has been a while, and weird might not be so bad. “So, you just like to bring up random cat facts to random people?” He asked.
“It’s not random.” She was still staring at the same point. “You came here to watch people for inspiration, right?”
“And how do you know that?”
“Aren’t you the guy that wrote that Mars book?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You haven’t written anything in a while, you are obviously here for inspiration. So here I am.”
“And you think I should write about cats?”
An almost imperceivable sigh came out of her, paired with keeping her eyes closed for a moment more than a usual blink. “You see those two over there? They were just talking about the same thing.”
“You can hear them from here?”
“You can hear them too, if only you would listen. Stop thinking they’re boring, and you’ll be able to see their stories.”
“And what’s their story? Are they a couple? Co-workers? Do they own a pet store? Do they even like cats, or are they your friends and just like to bring up cat facts?”
She turned towards him for the first time. “You are the writer, aren’t you? Imagine their lives. Write their story.”
He was now transfixed by her eyes. “I never got your name?” He said, giving the most seductive smile he could muster.
She responded with the same sigh again. “Just call me Cally if you must call me anything. And please, stop thinking about fucking me, it’s not going to happen.” There was no anger in her voice, just mild annoyance.
John threw his hands in the air. “Wow, I never said anything like that. I just wanted to know your name. You are the one that approached me, after all.”
“Now you know my name. But my name alone is not going to inspire you. So, let’s get back to the cats.”
She could really be crazy, John thought. But, she got him interested. “OK, I’ll play along.” he smiled. “The cats? I thought this was about the couple.”
“You are the writer. You choose the subject. You tell the story. I just inspire.”
“OK, inspire away!”
Her eyes narrowed. “I wish you haven’t said that. They were talking about the clowder over there, the last building of the block.” She was pointing with her head to a building behind John, and he turned to see.
“The neighbors must feed the cats a lot there.”
“I said, cats usually congregate to a spot because of food. This time though, they’re attracted.”
“By underground waters?”
Sigh. “You can do better than underground waters. You write science fiction. Think.”
John brought his gaze to his feet in thought, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. “Hmm, maybe... aliens? A species that can hide from us, but secrete some pheromones that attract cats?”
“Not great, but better. Go on. Why are they on Earth?”
“That’s easy, they spy on us, preparing an invasion!” John exclaimed.
Now the sigh was louder, and she held her eyelids closed a bit more. ”Easy, but also very boring. You can do better than this.”
“You are right….” John stopped in thought again. “Maybe they were always here, hidden?”
“Must it be a conspiracy?”
But he was not listening anymore. “Maybe there are different species around, living parallel to us. Maybe they were here even from the very beginning!”
She was still looking at him, fleeting exasperation showing on her face, gesturing with her right hand to keep going.
“So, they would have to be organized. Maybe they are some monitoring group, you know, like the UN has monitoring groups in some countries. Maybe there are multiple organizations running around doing different missions, evaluating us, trying to figure out if we are ready to join the Interstellar Commonwealth. Or… Or, they are here to prepare us for joining the Interstellar Commonwealth, exposing themselves only to certain people in order for the transition to be gentler..”
At that time a guy dressed as a runner passed them, wearing a ridiculous green-purple bandana. He was carrying some kind of letter with him.
“You see that guy! He looks odd, maybe he is one of them.” John exclaimed excitedly, not noticing he was loud enough for the man to hear him. The runner stopped and turned, and just as John was about to apologize for calling him out like that, the runner shouted back:
“Oh, Cally, sorry I didn’t see you there. I’d love to stay and chat, but gotta run, messages to deliver, you know.” And then he added, with excitement. ”I never thought I would say this, but I’m getting quite fond of using legs for a change. Stay cool, gotta run!” Then he laughed. “Get it, run? I’m a runner now! I’m getting good at this humor too!”
Cally looked at the runner briefly, raised her hand in half-hearted wave, and then returned her gaze to John, who was now sitting mouth agape.
“It feels like I’m getting close to something here… Are you actually trying to uncover something for me? Are you an alien?”
She gave a small laugh, first time showing emotion other than annoyance. “Use your imagination for writing, please. So, what about this Interstellar Commonwealth?”
But John’s train of thought was on another track now. ”That man was talking as if he is using legs for the first time, and that was no humor… Is he an alien too? Some kind of messenger?”
Cally just kept looking at him intently, for a moment betraying that she also was considering something. “Yeah, sure, he is an alien, let’s go with that.”
“OMG, this is brilliant! I am a genius to have thought of something like that!”
“Sure, don’t mention the one that started that slow brain of yours thinking. And don’t say OMG at loud, please.” She said, now not even trying to cover her annoyance.
“You are kinda rude.” John said. “But thanks for the inspiration, really. You’ve come to me here just to give me ideas?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m just doing my job. You ask for inspiration, I provide. The fact that I have to inspire a mediocre sci-fi writer is speaking volumes about the state of this world.”
“Mediocre? That’s harsh… I’ve got very good reviews, you know!”
“Harsh, but true. You know that I used to inspire people to write epics? Like proper epic poetry? No one writes epic poetry anymore, so I have to adapt. So yes, you are mediocre. Now, would you say you are inspired, and you’ll go and write your book?”
“Yes, I think that this thing about aliens living among us and having chores to do is fascinating, but...”
“Great!” She exclaimed, not letting him finish. She unlocked her tablet and checked something on the screen. Whatever it was written on the screen, it was in foreign script and therefore gibberish to John. “Now go and write, I have a karaoke to attend.”
“Can I have your number at least? Or your Facebook? Instagram? We could talk some more...” But she had already gotten up, and looking at her tablet, she walked towards the shadows where she got lost to the night.
“I also like karaoke!” he shouted, but she was already gone. He thought about going after her, but conceded. Instead he went home to write his book about the Interstellar Commonwealth.
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