One day, Eraser felt a bit mischievous.
It had been *ages* since Blocky left him and the pals all behind, deciding to stay on that sinking ship known as the Battle for Battle for (Battle for) Dream Island. Though they've been busy competing for The Power of Two ever since, they never really got over the fact that their little friend group was gonna be one short. It's that sort of infectious, stubborn little thing that just can't be dealt with, even after a thorough scrubbing. They suffered for *years* together, stuck in that metal box surrounded by all those nobodies. They endured the hardship of being split apart even *after* that, being scattered throughout the many teams of BFB. Those memories, those peaks, those troughs, those are things that are a *massive* pain to erase, even if one *really* wants to do so.
And so, the parallelogram decided that he wanted to do something in his honor. Something they could talk about in the unlikely event that they were ever reunited. He wanted to pull a prank. But what *kind* of prank, exactly? There's much to choose from: a variety of methods, a variety of targets, a variety of ways in which the victim can be psychologically and physically scarred for life. Quite a lot to consider for just one person, especially one that didn't have a brain to speak of, *especially* when he could only consider the scheme in that brief window of relaxation in-between contests, whenever he didn't have to worry about everyone else constantly keeping an eye on him.
Eventually, *eventually*, he did settle on a plan. What kind of plan? He wasn't gonna tell *anybody*, not even his fellow conspirators. There was *so* much on the line (to him, anyway), and it was his first prank ever (that he can remember, anyway), and so he wanted to spare himself from the embarrassment. *Everything* had to go right. The prank must go off without a hitch. It must *succeed*.
And for that to happen, he needed Pen to go and distract those *balls*. Golf Ball and Tennis Ball were always out and about; doing fieldwork, investigating mysteries, all sorts of dumb, boring, lame nerd stuff like that. Even the mildest act of incompetence is enough to set them off, send them running straight towards them, become a complete and total buzzkill. If Eraser wanted this prank to be a success, he *had* to get rid of them somehow. And with the writing utensil now being on a team with one of them, they may just have a chance at that.
The capped one already had a connection to the larger globule beforehand, and so it seemed *easier* to get through to the team tyrant. A little bit of tense negotiations later, and the two of them were down at the Factory of the dimpled despot, under the pretense that he was here to ask some genuine, important questions about science and the like.
Despite being told how to feign curiosity, GB still wasn't buying it. She had a packed itinerary to get to, and so if she *was* going to entertain him, it better be quick. "Ask away." She demanded. "If you're *actually* interested, you'd already have your questions prepared." "Uh... Alright." Pen scratched his head. "First one: how did *you* get into science?" He'd ask. "Uh... If I know how you did, then... maybe I can learn from that. Or something." The bossy-bot sighed. "Very well." She'd reply, taking a deep breath. After that, she would commence.
"I like to think that the start of my fascination with the sciences occurred immediately after my birth. Over the years, I've done extensive research into the usual habits of living beings, especially those that have just been spawned into this realm; how they react to the world around them during these critical formative years, how they change and adapt their behaviors to suit the conditions presented before them, and how these work in tandem in order to prepare them for the rest of their lives, should they be able to survive to that age. Because of their limited intellect at this all-important phase in their life, they naturally wander about and do just about anything that their brain urges them to do at that particular moment. They do this and that, go wherever they please, and do whatever they want to whoever they want. This is because they are yet to know right from wrong, good from evil, intelligent from dumb. That can only be formed through constant exposure to the outside world, the elements, and all that it can provide, both the good and the bad. Either they learn this from a parental figure that dedicates their time and energy towards instructing them in the ways in which they lived, or from pure trial and error if left alone. In the latter case, it can be said that living beings are intrinsically curious creatures; immediately after being given the gift of life, they spare no time at all in making good use of it. In every waking moment, they do all that they can to learn their surroundings, to figure out how best to survive off the land, to grow and thrive in the world before them. This is because the need to survive is biologically wired into their brain; countless years of evolution and survival have reinforced the belief that living is good, that anything that promotes living is also good, and anything that does the opposite is bad. Our limited bodies are incapable of encoding any more of that into the very fabric of our existence, however; our physical forms are severely deficient, and in its early stages is entirely incapable of processing complex patterns of thought, such as the many nuances of morality and ethics. We know that living is good, and not living is bad, but we are left to figure out for ourselves which activities and circumstances fall into which category. Hence, we develop that all-important desire to learn, that curiosity towards the world and its environs. Considering the probabilities involved, how all documented species, including ourselves, have retained this innate desire to know more, it is highly likely that anyone that comes into being will also have this urge. As such, I do not presume that I am any different. In fact, considering where I am now, I believe that I am quite the extraordinary case in that regard. Not only do I have the desire to learn what is necessary to survive, I have gone above and beyond that caliber of knowledge, studying things that most others consider to be trivial and useless, unable to comprehend its greater significance due to their simpler ways of thinking. Everyone else- no offense to you, Pen -only thinks about themselves, how they feel, and how to continue their inefficient way of life. I and several others, on the other hand, have pondered *heavily* about the ultimate fate of not just ourselves, but of all those surrounding us. Friends and foes. Strangers and acquaintances. We think about the world as a whole: how it got here, how it is, and how it can be in the future. We think about how best to improve the current standards of living, to create a better, brighter world for all those that inhabit it. This enhanced form of curiosity is something that is exceptionally rare, as much as I do not want to admit it; every time I look at my team, at the other contestants, I sigh and wonder if they will ever learn. This particular habit, I recognize, is a particularly difficult one to cultivate and maintain, especially considering the current state of the world, which is in no way fit to nurture the brightest learners. It is something that takes much time, attention, and care to ensure it truly prospers. It is an endeavor that can take a lifetime to truly master. As such, that further reinforces my belief that my interest in the many, *many* wonders of the world began as soon as I came to be, as soon as I recognized that I lived in a world that was far greater than my own. However, I am ashamed to admit that, for as much as I am confident in my intelligence, as much as I know plenty about plenty, this is something that I can only guess at, something that I can never be truly certain about. Unfortunately, as terrible as it may be, there was a time in which I had not truly come to appreciate and understand the sheer scope and size of the undertaking I was about to commit my entire life to. I was also failed by the imperfect work that is my mortal form; even if I fully knew what I was meant to do, what I was destined for, my body simply had not matured enough to actually go through with it at that time. As such, my memories of my earliest years are fragmented and unreliable. I only learned to commit every single detail to the confines of my own head after several years of contemplation and reflection. And, as far as I am aware, there were no outside observers to those early years; no cameras, no others, nothing. It was just myself, and myself alone, tasked with remembering what happened in those crucial moments. And I was unfit for that duty. It deeply saddens me that that will remain an enigma in my mind, a question with an unknowable answer. But I try not to let it bother me any more than it should. After all, there are at least 2,763 other riddles that continue to confound us to this very day. For one, my notions regarding the development of my body during my youth is also just conjecture; as of now, I have insufficient information to confirm that hypothesis. That theory is based on my readings on other species, how they developed during that stage of life, and I extrapolated based on those findings. But the reliability of that method is also an unsettled account. I have done extensive research regarding the various lifeforms that have inhabited this planet at some point in time, and the questions surrounding our existence are perhaps the greatest mystery of them all. Simply put, we have no conceivable, rational places on the evolutionary tree. We are all sorts of objects, things that are not meant to be given life, and yet, in some great fluke, we have been granted that extraordinary gift. We were made to wake up, to realize who and what we are, forced to confront that uncomfortable truth that we are just mere specks of dust in a massive rock, which itself is just a speck of dust compared to the galaxy in which it resides, which is just one of many that exist in the greater universe. We are pushed into dealing with the best and the worst of what existence has to offer, going through beautiful highs and miserable lows. We are coerced into Battling for Dream Island, drawing lines in the sand and fighting one another despite its counterproductive nature. I have spent nearly my entire life trying my hardest to figure out the answers to it all, to determine what cruel force would decide to torment us in this way. The most I can come up with is the means in which to mitigate the disaster, to hold back the inevitability of decay, to create a brief refuge within the infinity of despair. But when it comes to the matter of determining the reason for our futile existence, why we were made merely to suffer, that is something that continues to elude even myself. Despite all that I have thrown at the problem, even if I were to spend the next 2,763 years of my life devoted solely to this one issue, unhampered by the weight that is the rest of the world, I would still be no closer to unraveling the great mystery..."
Golf Ball just kept going. Going, and going, and going. It was nothing but pure, unintelligible verbiage. The words entered Pen's ear, and exited out the other, and his brain was completely tuned out, nothing but static in there. In a brief moment of clarity, he'd turn to face Tennis Ball, wondering what was up with her; he didn't recall her being *this* obnoxious and pretentious. However, he'd find nobody by his side.
As it turned out, Eraser's idea of a prank spared nobody, not even his own friends.
