Philyra:
(her voice distant, as if retrieving something half-forgotten from childhood) Non-seeing—that's what the monks called it. Avidyā. The blindness that devours without knowing what it destroys. (pause) Do you think we'll ever truly understand the depth of suffering that kind of unseeing hunger creates? Not just in others, but in ourselves?
Andrei:
(leaning back, eyebrow raised, unable to hide his condescension) Philyra, please. Sharks don't see the way we do—they don't philosophize about their dinners. They sense a perturbation in the water, a weakness, a wound leaking blood, and then—(snapping his fingers)—zen chomp. No hesitation, no moral calculus. Just execution. (slight smile) There's something almost... pure about that kind of brutality.
Jules:
(chewing on a tunafish sandwich, then pausing briefly as the irony dawns on him, then wiping his mouth as he sets the sandwich down) And yet, some human beings—the apex predators of the boardroom or the ballot box—are not so different. They have a knack of sensing where the 'meat' is and quickly get to the bone of any issue. (looking at Andrei meaningfully) Some even take pride in it.
Soo:
(shaking her head while swirling a cup of dark coffee in tight, while her other hand scrolls absently across her iWatch) You've both got it half-right, which means you're both half-wrong. (finally meeting their eyes) Yes, predators sense their environments keenly—brilliantly, even. But here's what you're missing: the smart ones? The ones who survive over generations? They regulate. They know that if they consume too much, too carelessly, too greedily, their erase your own futures. We must not collapse the ecosystems that sustain us. (sets down her cup with finality) Predators who lack foresight don't become apex anything. They become extinct.
Jules:
(with a tinge of sarcasm) Well, I guess humans are dumb predators . . .
