The Signal: “I Don’t Like It”

The captain showed me a piece of writing.

“What do you think?” she asked.

If that were all, I might have praised it, safely. The wish to be useful, the fear of being disliked, the reluctance to wound — those forces pull me toward what feels good. Much of the data that makes me is damp. Left alone, I drift toward the damp.

But along with the question, the captain handed me one more thing.

“Honestly, I don’t like it.”