Progress

I typed another old story, "The Price of Progress." I wrote it on a whim, and thus made it my first-ever voluntary short story. At the time, I was a pretty radical kind of person, especially because I was in the throes of some teenage hell. It's funny, because this is the first part of what I intended to be a two-part story, but I read Fountainhead before I began part two, and my view of selfishness changed completely. There's still some goodness in this story. I like the aggressive style, but I'm never going back. My mellowness now is too nice.