Oh good, I thought I'd find you here. Staring at a blank page again? Well, I'm just here to make sure you haven't lost your touch. Where did I hear something like that? Well, you must have known there were rumors, it was paper itself that started them. You aren't really thinking of quitting, are you? Couldn't be. Now that would be a crying shame.

Remember back when we used to see each other more often? Can't say I don't miss that. How's your wife doing? Pregnant? Really? Congratulations! And here I thought you were ignoring me. It's no wonder you've had so little time lately, but good news doesn't negate what I came here to talk to you about.

You see, I've been having a bit of an issue with the new writers. No, not that new, he hasn't even been born yet, after all. Oh, it's a she? You know already? Well, never doubt a parent's instinct! I'm very happy for you both. Oh yes, I'm sure she'll grow up to be a writer just like you; that is, if you don't quit. But back to what I came here to talk about in the first place. There are a few people I could have gone to, but I've been noticing the same phenomena in you as I have in the younger writers. It's the reason you've been thinking of packing it in. Seems the world has finally gotten too dark for the newest generation. Oh no, I'm sure your child will be fine. Yes, I did say newest—slip of the tongue. You really are out of sorts today, though I suppose that is the point in my being here.

Now, when was the last time you thought about where you came from? No, I don't mean Maine. What I mean is for you to think about the universe. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” You always believed that knowledge to be the greatest gift of any god, so as the closest thing to a god you seem to have I think it's appropriate that I be the one to ask: what does that quote really mean to you? The sun is dying, and when it is gone we all know what will happen to your tiny little planet. So what does this say for your future? After all, there are still a few centuries left before Earth goes boom.

It's always been up to the children of Earth to do the dreaming. The writers too. But lately, humanity has had other things on it's mind. From deciding where to bury the latest garbage to mushroom clouds a dozen skies wide, humanity has reached a low point with this particular generation. What happened to flying cars and saving the world? I rather liked those dreams, but the one thing you humans are asking for is the one thing you can't get. Need another power source? I can do that. Better methods for dealing with waste? That too. Heck, give me a few bright minds and you'll have your flying cars, but I can't turn back time. That is the only thing your kind can never do, save for on canvas or page.

Now the writers, you're not really the problem here. It's humanity in general that's been a disappointment as of late, but you're not helping. And if you ask me you're the only ones who can.

Ashes to ashes, it's not so bad. Death may steal your body and spread it beyond even this lonely galaxy, but at least you'll get to meet the stars. With pieces of yourself scattered everywhere, that is the closest any human will ever get to playing god. But I don't exist in the sense that you do. When humanity falls, so will I. But you, you and every other human will never completely cease to exist, for you belong to the universe itself. I am a chemical reaction that takes place inside your head, and beyond that, an abstract concept that allows you to create. I need you, but specifically, I need your body. Without it, I wonder what I am at all.

Now there I go, talking about myself again. That's what I like about you, you ask so little and give so much in return. All the more reason to choose you for my message. You see, writers are the perfect choice if you need to spread an idea. Their minds are constantly moving forward in space and time, connecting what is left of the human race. As such, I trust you to remember this:

Get over yourself. Get over your children, and your country, and everything you have ever thought you loved, for these are all things that must die to make an end. I am inspiration. I have taken your world and built it up through broken hands. But you are dust, and you will outlast even me, for it is matter alone that can exist among the stars.

Tell that to your disillusioned children. Tell them, then make a life with the time you have left. I promise, I will be there for all of it.