Slightly under 2500 words. DEAL WITH IT. I'll probably extend this later, but it doesn't have a title yet.

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The futility of self-improvement has been long acknowledged - at least, within my own particular branch of epistemology. Regrettably it has not spread much beyond that domain, or at least as far as can be proven. I do believe that a handful of copies of my works have been purchased but I suspect that my associates may be trying to assuage my feelings.

The death of a starship was a thing far more dignified than the passing of a man. This was so to a degree commensurate with the greater scale of its life. Men fought men and famine and disease and time. They grew infirm of mind and body and too prideful to admit that until the abject terror of their closing moments if they even saw their doom coming.

A bit late today.

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"It seems to me, sir, that you haven't got much of a chance to sell wares that don't work whether they're on sale or not."

"Really? Isn't that just the mindset of you groundhuggers, an implicit value judgement on your part?"

He winked mischievously. The other fellow raised an eyebrow, paused a moment to think, then spoke with a slightly raised voice.

He had always been a most irrational fellow prone to flights of fancy that would take him from one side of the country to the other in pursuit of the most ephemeral of concepts and ideals.