This is the discussion between Patience and the head of her father from Orson Scott Card’s 1987 book called Wyrms. She found out that she is the prophecy female destined to make the world or kill it as the destined lover of Unwyrm. When her father died, the king ordered to have truth worms implanted in the head so he could only speak the truth and act as an adviser for centuries to come. Patience sneaks in covered by darkness and starts querying her father about her destiny:
“What would you rather? That I tell you that I thought your life was more important than the whole world?
What sort of egomaniacal monster are you?”
“A human being,” she said.
“The worst kind of monster,” he said. “We’re all monsters, living in utter isolation, sending out words like ambassadors that beg for tribute, for worship. Love me, love me. And then when the words come back, ‘I love you, I worship you, you are great and good,’ these monsters doubt, these monsters know that it’s a lie.
‘Prove it,’ they say. ‘Obey me, give me power.’ And when they are obeyed, the monster grows hungrier. ‘How do I know you aren’t manipulating me?’ cries the monster.
‘If you love me, die for me, kill for me, give all to me and leave nothing for yourself!’
“If human beings are all monsters, why should I sacrifice anything for them?”
“Because they are beautiful monsters,” he whispered.
“And when they live in a network of peace and hope, when they trust the world and their deepest hungers are fulfilled, then within that system, that delicate web, there is joy. That is what we live for, to bind the monsters together, to murder their fear and give birth to their beauty.”
“That’s as mystical as what the priests babble about.”
“It is what the priests babble about.”
“You have sacrificed the possibility of power, you have made us strangers all these years, and all for some invisible, nonexistent connection between human beings you’ve never even met?” She tried to put as much contempt as possible into her voice.
“You’re fifteen. You know nothing. Go away.”
“I know your life has been a deception and a disguise.”
“And when I dropped the disguise and told you what I have lived for, you mocked me. The babble of the priests!
Do you think that because something is invisible, it doesn’t exist? There is nothing but empty space between the infinitesimal pieces of matter; the only thing connecting them is their behavior, their influence on each other, and yet out of those empty, invisible connections is built all that exists in the universe. Most of it empty, the web insensible. Yet if for a single moment the web broke down, everything would flash out of existence. Do you think it’s any different for us? Do you think that you exist independent of your connections with other people?
Do you think that you can ever serve your own interest without also serving theirs? Then I should have killed you in the cradle, because you aren’t fit to be Heptarch.”