Intro:
I've been thinking about the gap between humans and animals—how we assume intelligence means asking about god, death, or purpose. But what if animals aren’t missing anything? What if they already live the kind of life we can only dream of?
This is a monologue I wrote from the perspective of a dying scientist who spent his life trying to communicate with animals... and finally realizes what they were trying to say all along.
Monologue – “Project Cetacea: Final Recording”
[INT. DIMLY LIT LABORATORY – NIGHT]
A single overhead lamp flickers. A frail, elderly scientist lies on a padded gurney surrounded by scattered research papers, glass vials, and old video monitors playing snippets of animal behavior footage. A recording device sits beside him, blinking red. He speaks softly but with clarity.
SCIENTIST (into recorder):
You know... I spent fifty years of my life trying to teach animals to talk. To understand us. To prove we weren’t alone in this... ocean of thought.
They learned signs. Symbols. Patterns. They remembered faces. Some even cried when their friends died.
But no matter what I did... they never asked the one question I was always waiting for:
"Why?"
They never asked why they were alive. Never asked what happens after. Never wondered who made the stars.
And for a long time, I thought that meant they weren’t ready. That they were missing something. That we were better.
He coughs, painfully. Takes a slow breath.
But now—on this table, lungs filling with fluid, heart slowing to a polite stop—I think maybe they weren’t missing anything at all.
Maybe they were free.
They didn’t need a god. They didn’t need a reason. They lived like life was already enough.
No fear of death. No need for an afterlife. Just wind, water, family, and the song of the world beneath their feet.
He looks toward the monitor showing a dolphin leaping through waves.
I tried to give them our burden. And they... they tried to give me their peace.
The red light on the recorder blinks faster. The scientist closes his eyes.
If anyone hears this... stop asking the animals to speak like us. Try listening the way they do.
Maybe then... maybe then we’ll finally understand.
The lamp buzzes. The screen fades to black.
cutting teeth on new format, what you think?>