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update from sparkleup

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Madison Rye Progress 2024-06-12 12:34:05 -07:00
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writing/post-self/idumea/007.md
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@ -112,15 +112,16 @@ The Dog was the fork of a systech, itself. No longer a systech, primarily a dog,
"I want to unbecome," The Woman said to The Dog, crouching down where it lay, curled in sun, curled on a cushion so thoughtfully provided. "I want to become still. I came to speak with Motes, but you have done a similar thing, and I want to understand."
The Dog heard these words. He understood, I think, that he was being asked about how he became himself. He knew he could think of this, could answer, could take up a larger piece of his buried humanity and become a being of words and such actions. He did not want to do this, but he did not *not* want to.
The Dog heard these words. He understood, I think, that he was being asked about how he became himself. He knew he could think about these things, could answer, could take up a larger piece of his buried humanity and become a being of words and such actions. He did not want to do this, but he did not *not* want to.
It rose. It walked in front of the kettlecorn machine. It sat. It raised its front paws to beg. It was certain its intent was clear.
The Woman made a bag of kettlecorn and held out a piece to The Dog. He accepted, of course.
The Woman made a bag of kettlecorn and held out a piece to The Dog. He accepted, of course. What dog would not?
*"Practice and wanting,"* The Dog said.
"Practice?" The Woman asked, lowering herself down to meet The Dog on its level.
"Practice?" The Woman asked, lowering herself down to once more meet The Dog on its level.
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The Dog did not answer, but sniffed in the direction of the corn.