Kat watched the smoke rise through the hazy air, curling and swirling in on itself to form strange little loops. Gordian knots tied and unraveled themselves within the span of a breath, as ripples of air passed by. She pursed her lips and blew, clearing the canvas that hung in front of her, then waited for Beth to light another cigarette.
“I still can’t believe they made me black…” Sharon said, staring at her arms.
As an occasional speculative fiction writer, I am sometimes asked where I get my ideas from. “Everywhere” never seems to satisfy as an answer, and “I don’t know” is generally poorly received. So, I’ve spent some time thinking about it.
My general strategy is to look at people, places, or situations that would normally be absurd, and then to figure out how the world would have to fundamentally change in order to make them normal.
CHARACTERS
ARTHUR: A middle-aged bureaucrat. He wears unstylish glasses and a suit one size too big.
BERTRAND: A talking duck.
SETTING
An unremarkable conference table in an unremarkable conference room in the depths of the FDA. ARTHUR and BERTRAND are sitting on either side of the table, surrounded by piles of paper and groups of assistants.
SCENE
ARTHUR: I have to say, you seem remarkably calm about this agreement.
BERTRAND: Well, we are prey animals as much as predators.
