Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Scene: A Starlit Conversation – Jessica and Sam Discuss Thus Spoke Zarathustra

The night was unusually quiet, the waves barely a whisper against the shore. A lantern flickered between them, casting long shadows over the wooden porch. Jessica sat with her back against the railing, one knee drawn up, fingers lazily wrapped around her whiskey glass. Sam sat across from her, legs stretched out, the well-worn pages of Thus Spoke Zarathustra resting on his lap.

Jessica smirked. “So, we’re doing Nietzsche now?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s not your kind of thing.”

Jessica exhaled, rolling the glass between her palms. “Oh, it’s exactly my kind of thing. I just didn’t think you’d go straight for Zarathustra.”

Sam flipped the book open. “It’s the one people argue about the most.”

Jessica leaned her head back against the railing, staring at the sky. “That’s because no one agrees on what the hell it actually means.”

Sam nodded slowly. “But you do?”

Jessica smirked. “You want the CliffsNotes version? Fine. Nietzsche says that God is dead, morality is a construct, and humans have to rise above it all to become something more. The Übermensch.” She took a slow sip. “Sound about right?”

Sam watched her. “And do you believe it?”

Jessica tilted her head, watching the stars. “I don’t know. I think he had a point about self-overcoming. About becoming what you choose to be, instead of what the world tells you to be.” She glanced at him. “But the Übermensch? That part I’m not so sure about.”

Sam took a sip of his own drink. “Why not?”

Jessica exhaled through her nose. “Because in the end, you’re still built from everything that came before. The world. The past. The people who made you.” She looked at him, eyes sharp. “Tell me, Sam. If a person is made into something—against their will—do they really have the power to reshape themselves? Or is that just a nice story we tell ourselves to make us feel better?”

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Nietzsche would say yes. That’s the whole point. The Übermensch isn’t about where you come from—it’s about what you do with it.”

Jessica scoffed. “Easy for him to say. He wasn’t made in a lab.”

Sam held her gaze. “Maybe not. But he knew what it was like to stand outside everything that came before him and decide to break from it.”

Jessica swallowed, looking away.

Sam let the silence stretch before speaking again, voice softer. “You think you’re still a product of them.”

Jessica didn’t answer. Just watched the whiskey move in slow circles in her glass.

Sam studied her, then spoke carefully. “You burned everything down, Jess. Every trace of what they made you. Every project, every file. You could have walked away. But you didn’t.”

Jessica let out a slow breath. “And you think that makes me free?”

Sam shook his head. “I think it makes you responsible.”

Jessica looked at him sharply. “For what?”

Sam leaned back. “For who you are now.”

Jessica tightened her fingers around the glass. “That’s the thing, Sam. I don’t know who the hell that is.”

Sam gestured at her. “Then make her.”

Jessica let out a short, bitter laugh. “Just like that?”

Sam nodded. “Just like that.”

Jessica shook her head. “You make it sound easy.”

Sam smirked. “Didn’t say it was easy. Just that it’s the only way forward.”

Jessica exhaled slowly, looking out at the horizon. The world stretched beyond them, dark and endless. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe Nietzsche was right. Maybe she had been looking at this the wrong way the whole time. Maybe she wasn’t just something they made. Maybe she was something she was still making.

She glanced at Sam, eyes steady. “Fine. But if I’m an Übermensch now, does that mean I get a cool cape or something?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. Just an existential crisis and a lot of whiskey.”

Jessica smirked, raising her glass. “I guess that’s close enough.”

She clinked it against his, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was choosing to be here.