Ann: Thank you for getting me away from that nightmare.
Mr. Oliver: I take it your father wasn’t the one who wrote to me in Braille after all.
Ann: I don’t think he really understands that Braille typewriters make words. How he imagines I made it through college, I haven’t the faintest idea.
Oliver’s Being: You do realize that I wouldn’t be able to help you with that sort of thing? Reading your language is difficult for me. Writing, next to impossible.
Ann: I am aware of your limitations, yes. As well as your considerable advantages.
Mr. Oliver: And why, Miss Ann, should those advantages be granted to you?
I appreciate your initiative, and have sympathy for our shared handicap. But let us suppose I agree to grant you this Mastery upon my death. What would you do to make that grant worthwhile?
Ann: May I be frank with you, Mr. Oliver?
I rather thought I’d begin with trying to take over the world.
I like her ambition! Not sure I’d approve of the world she’d craft once she has it – given what we’ve seen of her future self, anyways – but I definitely give her points for style.
Well, she’s honest if nothing else.
Okay, sounds like a plan. ;)
Seriously though, I admire young Ann’s spunk. I want a Being, it will help me in my conquest, so let me become penpals with a guy who has one.
I find myself worried with why Ann’s father tried to insinuate himself into this conversation with a bald-faced lie.