Richard Feynman and my unplanned short story

I never liked reading novels. I respect them. At one point while growing up, I fell in love with Sherlock Holmes and finished the entire series of stories in weeks, including the four long-form narratives. Within that same burst of energy, I read the novel The Lost World by the same author. Beyond those, I barely remember finishing any other novel. I am only a moderate reader. I always found my comfort in history, biographies, and Java programming books. I seem to be drawn to writings that represent the real world, or works I can use to build something back into the world. How much I am actually able to do so is a different question. Short stories are the exception to my strict preference. I have always respected the expansive storytelling of a novelist, but I find my true enjoyment in passionate, punchy short stories.

A few years out of college, I worked for one of the largest IT companies in India where the Toastmasters Club conducted a storytelling contest. I ended up as one of ten finalists performing in front of a live audience. In retrospect I wrote something that resembled stand up comedy to amuse the listeners, explaining a scene at a bus stop that worked in a way. The audience and the jury laughed their heart out. I did not win the contest. That was my only brush with fiction writing till recently. Even with non-fiction, I don’t feel I have enough scars yet. I occasionally wrote long passionate social media posts starting from my college years. Friends and colleagues would personally appreciate my clarity and style, even if they never hit the like button. Funny enough, I also wrote a mountain of professional emails on behalf of my team. The accidental side effect of telling my manager that I wanted to ‘start writing’ one day. I, however, did not mean status reports.

When I began publishing on my site, I intended to write only non-fiction essays or memoirs about life and travel. I did have a vague plan to attempt short fiction eventually. But a few weeks ago, I wrote a short story accidentally. It has already received 1,082 views.

How did this happen? I explained the process to a few friends, and eventually, the thought occurred to me to record it here.

I was actually writing the next essay in my AI series as planned. While I was already prepared to write about AI out of passion, the 2,743 views my previous essay received acted as an unexpected catalyst for my journey. In one section of this draft, I wanted to show how science, the art of knowing, works. I casually demonstrated this with a short imaginary vignette of how our ancient ancestors might have looked at stones and tried to understand them. Then I continued with the essay.

Later, I wanted to show how engineering, the art of doing, works. Naturally, I referred back to my imaginary ancestors to show how they might have engineered something out of those stones. I introduced a character called Buggy to make the point a little more relatable. I intended to just convey the point and move on, but I fell in love with this little character. I wanted to know more about Buggy. What can I do?

I considered pivoting entirely into writing Buggy’s story to start my fiction journey. I was excited and a little unsure. Also, what I had written so far felt too valuable to abandon.

Taking a step back from the tree to look at the forest, I was convinced that expanding the fictional world of Buggy within the essay wouldn’t distract from the overarching point.

This seems unusual for an essay, but who defines the usual?

So I decided to finish the essay, with an embedded short story, so long as the work remained valuable to the reader.

I found a clear direction, which is the hardest part of the writing process. I felt like a nerd in a bookshop. Now I can expand the story of Buggy with total freedom, shaping it exactly as I would want it told to me as a reader.

I wanted to start with humor. I let Buggy mess up in the training ground and run away. I gave a short introduction to Buggy‘s character and continued expanding the fiction as best I could. Time to time, I switched to reader mode. There were some sections I went back and forth to tweak more.

Buggy reminded me of a figure I once encountered in history. I cannot recall the name, but he was a man who wrote extensively on the theory of revolution without possessing the skill to survive the battlefield. When the time came, everyone knew what would happen to him before he even reached the front lines. As the narrator noted, he did not return.

It likely happened in the last few centuries, as the story involved both pens and guns. I asked an AI chatbot, and it suggested a figure from the American Revolution. Whether or not that was the exact person I had in mind, my story’s character would resonate with that tragedy. I gave Buggy a similar moment in his own life, but fortunately, he escapes his death sentence.

I added more details to the world of Buggy. Whenever the tone felt too heavy, I remembered to add some humor. If it was funny enough for me as a reader, I recorded it as far as it didn’t affect the overall direction. After all, I think that is how real life works.

I knew the fictional parts of the essay were now long enough. I made a firm decision to end the fiction and return with the essay.

But I couldn’t stop wondering how Buggy’s mother was reacting to the events in Buggy‘s life.

I went back to the fiction section.

I expanded the thoughts inside the mind of Buggy’s mother. I wondered what she was thinking during the festival week before he started his life test.

I thought she would likely think of her long-lost brother. Many people do that, including my own mother, so it felt only natural. But what were those thoughts? What did she feel when her own brother took that final journey of no return?

I found myself thinking of Richard Feynman. Beyond his Nobel Prize in physics and his bongo drumming, his life held moments of profound, quiet movement. He was deeply in love with his fiancée when she was diagnosed with tuberculosis. In those days, it was a death sentence. His family and well-wishers urged him to remain a supportive friend but explained to him that marriage, under such tragic circumstances, was a huge mistake. He married her.

At some point she was totally bedridden. He received several false alarms that sent him rushing back to her side, but one day the news was final. He wrote in his book that he did not cry at all in that moment. He simply went home, did what was necessary, and returned to work. Months later, while walking down the street, he saw a specific dress showcased in a shop window. It was a dress he knew she would have loved. He stood there and cried for a long time.

Many of us have seen this in our own lives or in those close to us. It is the tug of war between the rigid preoccupations of life and our natural emotions. I decided that Buggy’s mother would confront her own memory of delayed grief for her lost brother. When I switched back into reader mode, I strangely found myself getting emotional.

That was it. I had to take a step back and look at the whole piece. I could see that both the story part and the non-fiction part of the essay were working. Sometimes, two things can be amazing in their own way, but they simply cannot exist together.

I decided to give Buggy and his mother the space they deserved and created a standalone short story. I moved the fiction into a separate file.

I noticed the beginning was not related to Buggy at all, but I kept it as a prologue. A short story with a prologue? Why not? I started the story by saying “Imagine you are...” and casting the reader as a character. This was originally intended for the essay, and standard fiction usually avoids such direct address. But who tells a short story what to do? I even added myself, the writer, in a brief cameo.

With many more tweaks, I finished my accidental short story, “The Rest of the Stones”. At the very least, I enjoyed the process. It has been rewarding to see the feedback from friends, family, and my hundreds of readers. The birthplace of Buggy, my original essay about AI, will be published soon.

— sAb

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