Out in space, a little rock awakens. Having little mass and even less sass to give, it continues at a pace that would put lightning to shame. It thinks to itself in concepts, not words, but if one were to translate its thoughts, it might sound something like this.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
You see, the rock was afraid. Very, very afraid, of all the smaller rocks that were crumbling in its path and merging into it, causing it to grow larger - but not slower. If asked to give its thoughts on the matter, it wouldn't respond.
It is a rock, after all.
However, if it were able to respond, it might shout, "Why am I cursed to live?!"
To which the author might respond with, "For our viewing pleasure. Sorry about that, buddy."
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Regardless, as time passed by, it grew to a respectable size of a slightly larger rock. A boulder, perhaps? Ah, but this is in space, isn't it? Congratulations, rock, you've evolved! Well, you already were a-
--how rude.
The rock clearly isn't wise (or intelligent for that matter) enough to pick for itself, so how about we choose for it?
The rock doesn't care. The rock suffers for the cruel viewers' pleasure.
What property should the meteoroid gain?
