(why)
Inspiration can come from the strangest places.
Golf Ball and her *very* close friend were just sitting in the green grass, looking up at the sky and its many clouds. Given that they were well and truly exhausted from the events of the episode prior, they'd mostly stick around there for hours on end, watching those suspended particles in the atmosphere slowly and aimlessly drift, moved by the random, uncaring breeze.
The Battle for Dream Island had upended (what little exists of) their society; back in the old days, for the most part, all twenty of them would just wander around all over the places, talk to each other about whatever interested them, and sometimes get into whatever shenanigans they fancied. Then, all of a sudden, a speaker box suddenly came from beyond, descending to the plane of mere mortals and declaring that they shall indeed Battle for Dream Island. Teams were decided, challenges were started, and they were all made to dance to the tune of that metal machine and the faceless voters that were apparently watching their every move.
Their lives, seemingly immutable and unchanging just a little while ago, decided and dictated solely by the actions and decisions of themselves and themselves alone (well, sometimes others too), was now suddenly and inexplicably changed by forces and factions beyond their knowledge, beyond their understanding. The two balls were aggravated by the thought at first; they had so much science, so much innovation to get to, but all that was forced into the sidelines. But the longer they thought about it, in the brief reprieves from the chaos and confusion, the more they realized that *everything*, down to the subtle minutiae of their daily living, all came about as a result of these unknown, unfelt, but all-powerful influences.
After all, how did they come to be? Who or what gave the breath of life to these unremarkable, inanimate objects and placed upon them the burden of living? Where did they come from? What place were they originally raised in before being suddenly taken away into these green plains? Why *are* they in these plains? What attracted them to this dull, unremarkable patch of grass, kept them tethered to these dozen a bit more individuals, each one dumber and more naive than the last? What was stopping them from leaving and pursuing lives of their own? Why were they still here? Why... *anything*?
It was then and there, with Golf Ball staring blankly into the blue up above, making notes on the clouds and what they vaguely looked like, where inspiration struck her. She couldn't even remember what she was last thinking of the moment it seized her mind and completely took over. It was all she could think about now, all she could focus on. It was a powerful idea, one so alluring and mystical; the sort of thing that would drive many, *many* people mad in their efforts to understand the great enigma before them. So omnipresent, so dominant in daily life, and yet not a single lead to lead them in the right direction, nothing to anchor their logic.
GB blinked. "TB, you ever think about *why* we're Battling for Dream Island?" She'd ask. "Well, isn't it obvious?" Tennis Ball replied. "We're Battling for Dream Island so we can win Dream Island!" The small sphere wasn't all too amused by that answer, though. "Right." She'd blink. "But *why* do we want to win Dream Island?" The clumsy one thought about it for a bit, a smile forming on his face. "Because we're Battling for Dream Island!"
Ellipsis.
"TB, what's *wrong* with you?" Golf Ball shouted. "I thought I taught you that using circular logic is one of the *dumbest* things *anyone* could ever do! I thought you were smarter than this!" Tennis Ball chuckled. "Sorry, sorry." He'd quickly interject. "I was just kidding; wanted to lighten things up a little, you know?" That did *nothing* to soothe the diminutive despot, however; TB sighed. "Really, though, I don't really know why." He'd continue. "I remember what that robotic talker said about the island, but we've never actually *seen* it. And as you've said, what we can't see or measure..." "Doesn't exist." Golf Ball finished his statement. "And yet, despite all that, I keep planning things as if it *is* real. I've been planning *everything* that I'm gonna do the moment I win Dream Island, which I know is a statistically certain future event. If there's any common sense or reason to these voters, they should know that the island should belong to the one with the most know-how to run it."
