He (inconsequentially): So, if you could be anything in the world that you wanted to be -
She (interring a decent pause): Ahaan?
He (rolling his eyes): D-uh! What would you be?
She (flippantly): I dunno. Maybe an astronaut.
He (with knowing condescension): Over-hyped profession. It just looks all gadgety and cool. Betcha it's totally uncomfortable under that space suit thingamajig. And you probably won't even get to go to space. Besides they seem to let psycho bitches become astronauts these days.
She (after some consideration): Hmm. I suppose it would be interesting to be an author.
He: Hehe (rudely). What? One of those chaps with long hair and inky fingers? The ones who never have anything to say but take a prodigious amount of space saying it? And take themselves oh-so-seriously. Might be quite appropriate actually, considering.
She (irritably): What dya mean might be appropriate? And anyway, I wouldn't be a chap! Maybe an actress then. You can't accuse me of wanting long hair and inky fingers that way.
He (smirking): Ahh. Of course. Fame and riches. Lots of people fall into that trap. Me, I've never needed that sort of validation from millions of people who don't even know me, jerking off in front of my picture. Such a silly sort of profession. No disrespect, of course. I'm sure for vulgar blondes with a weakness for diamonds it's quite the thing.
She (venturingly): Gardener?
He (dismissively): Bah!
She (quickly): Teacher.
He (quicker): Tsk.
She (lightning quickly): Scientist.
He (still quicker): Phooey.
She (despairingly): Social activist.
He (in between snarky sniggers): With a big red bindi? And cotton saris. Heheheh. You're going to save the world?
She (bitterly): Well, it's better than sitting around on a rather big backside, asking people stupid questions and laughing at all their answers.
He (reproachfully): The backside comment hurt. And it's not better! At least I'm not actively harming anything. That's the only thing you can do with one of your so-called "careers". Harm people. Or animals. Or things.
She (witheringly): Oh! So Einstein had a so-called "career" that harmed people?? Picasso??? Monet?? Shakespeare??
He (triumphantly): Course. None of them did anything worthwhile. Relativity? It's not even a theory. Mumbo jumbo that doesn't change anything. The world doesn't change it's fabric just because we give a name to the fabric. And weird shapes and blurred colors are nothing to crow about. Besides encouraging young twerps without a jot of talent to waste time and paint, while mercilessly killing millions of trees. Don't even get me started on mooning heros and crooning sheep. Think about all the men who never had a chance with the girls once they (the girls, that is) got a crack at Shakespeare. After 'I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I'll die by your hand which I love so well.' who wants 'Umm..so..err..how about it..mumble..tonight..'? Damnable behavior if you ask me.
She (baffled): Crooning sheep?
He (hastily): I thought we decided to not get started on it! The point is-
She (incredulously): There is one?
He (perseveringly): The point is that there is no way any individual life can actually matter in the grand scheme of things. Say there's a big river that's going somewhere. And every now and then there's a boulder in it's path or a mountain. The river has to either move around it or drill through it, right? But it doesn't matter which way it ends up choosing. To the river. The boulder might erode and become a mere bump, the ground over which the river moves might become fertile and green, life might flourish there. But it makes no difference to the river. Pointless is what it all is.
She (argumentatively): -
He (pre-emptively dismissing): I know what you're going to say. That it *does* make a difference. That maybe the river will move around the mountain and in the process tumble into a deep hole and become an underground spring. Or the river might be stopped by the mountain and become a lake.
She (futilely): No, I wasn't going to say that.
He (waving a careless hand): That's what you ought to have said. Of course I can counter it by saying that whether the river becomes a spring or a lake matters this much(snaps fingers). Whichever way you look at it things will happen. Maybe not the same things. In the same way. To the same cross-section of the world. But things will happen nevertheless. The river is a spring today, an ocean tomorrow or a dried up river bed the next. It doesn't matter. If I ceased to exist today, this second. It wouldn't matter to anyone.
She (heartfelt-ly): It would to me.
He (disregardingly): The point is noone makes a difference and things happen regardless. It's like Russian Roulette, except the outcome doesn't matter really. Ergo, it doesn't matter one whit what you think you want to become. Or would become if you could. In the context of the world, you're a blip that noone can even hear.
She (unimpressed-ly): That was a point?
She (grudgingly after pause induced by excruciating inner struggle): So, if you could be anything in the world you wanted to be?
He (superior-ly): Ahaan?
She (sighing): Yeah, yeah funny. What would you be?
He : Scared. Maybe depressed. Probably both.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to real world supercilious arrogant existentialists is unintended, non-existent and solely in the mind of said s.a. existentialist. Any resemblance to any other He Said-She Saids denied vehemently. It happened by itself!