“Still working?”
“I’m not ‘still working’. I’m always working. I’m writing.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“I know you can, and go entertain yourself somehow, I’m working right now. Working and writing. Writing and working. You wouldn’t understand the complexities of it so don’t bother with asking. It’s a new project I’m working on.”
A sigh. “Yes, you’ve said that repeatedly since the day after the examination report came back. I don’t care what it says, and I don’t care about your projects, you know that. I’m obviously not your caretaker. What I want to discuss is the fact that it’s one o’clock in the morning and you’ve completed about 15 hours of sleep, total, in the past week. This is unacceptable!”
The click of a pen set down on a table. Silence. Then, “You read the transcript.”
Another gusty sigh, “Why am I not surprised?”
“Hn. Congratulations, you’ve finally moved past denial. In any case, that is none of your business. Neither is my nightly schedule. Go back to not caring; I liked it better when you weren’t disturbing my work. This project is of the utmost urgency and importance.”
“What kind of a stupid project are you working on at a time like this? You should be… you should be in bed, at the hospital, I don’t know.”
“First of all, by definition, a project can not be stupid. A physical project lacks intelligence because it is not capable of possessing intelligence. The term stupid applies to it perfectly well and therefore not well at all. Secondly, I’d like to remind you that you only recently stated your lack of interest in my project. Thirdly, I don’t feel the need to be confined to a bed. I feel perfectly well at the moment, thank you.”
“First of all, thank you for pointing out the infinitesimal aberrations in my language. Secondly, I’m not interested in your project. I’m interested in why exactly it’s more important than your life to you right now. Thirdly, you are going to bed right now, and I’m going to go speak with the doctors today whether you like it or not.”
“I am your father, not the other way around. You’re the one who should go to bed, Nyx. It’s one in the morning, as you said. Leave the subject alone.”
“And I’m-”
“Leave. Now.” The pen resumed scratching.
A pause. Footsteps padding away.
