"Do not awaken the hosts, Willis, they might ask for something."
Willis softened his step against the cement floor. The beds were large and soft, with down comforters, huge pillows, some with canopies. Each compartment was its own little unique capsule filled with furniture, a television, and picture frames everywhere. A large number of photos was perhaps the single common factor. Friends and family everywhere...on the nightstands, shelves, and dressers. He had never seen anything like it. It was sort of like a hospital, but arranged in a matrix of hexagonal rooms packed against one another. There were hundreds of these cells. In each lay a woman, some new arrivals. Others had been there 7, 8, even 9 months and pushed the center of the comforter up in a characteristic mound.
It was Willis' first day at the compound. He was being trained as a Maternity Warden. Many military folks signed up for maternity service to stay as far away from the front lines as possible. Life expectancy was much longer in the remote compounds saving innocent babies than in the suburbs breaking through doors of suspected terrorists.
Willis was trained for hand-to-hand combat, which qualified him for duty in the Honeycomb, which is what they called the boarding quarters. The Honeycomb was perhaps the safest place in America. It sat in the very center of the compound along with the delivery rooms. Surrounding the Honeycomb were the food storage and preparation areas, followed by the staff quarters, and finally the Perimeter. The Perimeter was a heavily reinforced series of fortifications that surrounded the complex. Two steel 30 foot walls were separated by a moat with machine gun nests every 50 yards. Beyond was an additional series of electric fences along with coils of barbed wire. The Perimeter was under constant video surveillance and observed from towers by the armed guards. Many had tried to escape, all had failed.
This was the Neil Horsley Institute, Georgia's premiere Pregnancy Fulfillment Facility. In the early 2010s, the state passed and began enforcing the "Right to Life" bill. The bill required all women of child-bearing age to wear Conception Indicators. They were small, non-invasive devices inserted beneath the flesh, usually in the back. They included a GPS tracking system and Conception Monitor. The device was designed to identify and track all women who had been fertilized.
Although state law required installation, few women would voluntarily accept the Conception Monitors. In order to enforce compliance, a state funded genomic research lab engineered an easily contractible STD requiring immediate treatment and immunization. Women at risk came to the state hospital where they were treated for the disease and underwent the Conception Monitor installation procedure, by force if necessary. It was estimated that within weeks all sexually active women in the state of Georgia were being monitored 24 hours a day.
A host, married or single, becomes property of the state at the moment of conception. This moment is immediately detected by the Conception Monitor and the Right to Life headquarters is alerted. The location of the host is identified and a unit of specially trained Embryo Protection Corps are deployed to the scene. If the host offers any resistance, she is sedated and brought by armored car to the Pregnancy Fulfillment Facility. There, she is given the appropriate diet and specially designed hormone supplements necessary for a healthy, growing fetus. Most importantly, she is separated from any physician capable of performing an illegal, murderous, abortion procedure.
The original Honeycomb was a minimum security environment offering hosts the option to move freely around the interrior of the facility. It soon became obvious that an open living quarters was hostile to the fetus. Irrate women would often attack guards in protest. Some hosts even committed murder by struggling with the compound staff. Others managed to attack and kill their own embryo in the womb using crude, makeshift instruments...all such offenses are, of course, punishable by death in the state of Georgia.
Today, all hosts are secured to their beds at all times. Maternity Wardens, such as Willis, are responsible for trips to the bathroom, showers, and so forth. The cooperativeness of many of these women demand two combat soldiers present whenever restraints are removed. This requirement is in addition to sedatives fed to the women intravenously, along with hormones and vitamins, during the duration of their pregnancy. The very low chance of birth defects that accompanies the use of this sedative is far less dangerous than allowing the host to act irrationally when unrestrained.
Willis continued to walk softly along the rows of beds. The wide, terrified eyes resembled those of captured terrorists behind bars in Florida's detention camps.
At least he was off the front lines.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Mr. Hanson Visits the Hospital
Well, Mr. Hanson, I have some good news and some bad news.
Good news first.
We can cure your stomach ache.
That's great news. What's the bad news?
It will cost you.
That's fine. How much?
How much you got?
Excuse me?
You heard me.
This is a hospital. You have my insurance information. Paid an arm and a leg for it.
Heh. Insurance. Arm and leg. Times are tough, man. Seriously, what's it worth to you?
Worth to me?
That's right. I've got a little fun fact about your condition. Turns out a burst appendix can cause massive infection and even death?
Yes, I did know that, doctor.
So, what's your life worth, partner?
Look, I approve the operation. Enough of this. I'm in quite a lot of pain. Let's get on with it.
I take credit cards, cash, cars, real estate, daughters. Come on, man, what you got?
You can't be serious.
Ha. Me serious? Where have you been, man? You obviously haven't been in an ER for a while. Things have changed. Money, keys, off shore accounts. We don't have all day, man.
You're going to jail for this.
Jail?
You better have a good lawyer.
Lawyer? Look. Your appendix is about to burst. You give me your house and your cars and I will take it out right now using this sterile scalpel with antiseptic and local anesthesia. Or, I sedate you and hide you in a closet until you are dead.
What are you doing? Threatening me?
I'm sorry, but you do not have a very strong position right now.
Why are you doing this?
You want motivation? Alright. I owe the big guy $50,000 for my mother's liver transplant. Is that what you want? Don't act like you've never had a knife to your throat. This isn't 2008 any more. Right now I am your personal savior, and I say your money or your life. Your call.
You listen to me. I can give you my keys, but that doesn't stop the law from breaking down your doors. What you are doing is illegal. I know my rights. The law is on my side.
Who is this guy? Debbie, where did you get this guy? Alright, I like you so I'm going to save you a lot of trouble. Maybe your life. This recession, or depression whatever you call it...it has given some of us some, well, opportunities. You know that the government rescued a lot of banks and insurance companies, right?
Right. Sure.
Well, turns out the government also "rescued" this very hospital, see? Basically, this means the government printed money to keep us up and running. Look, you can't ask a man to resist a hundred dollar bill on the ground. Before all this we overcharged the insurance companies. They looked the other way and overcharged clients. Now, we overcharge government. We don't care where it comes from. You can't blame us for that, for taking what no one keeps track of. Before we were taking care of shareholders for valuable market share. Now we take care of our own. The truth is, we doctors can take whatever we want. We're a hospital. Now, what politician would let this hospital fail, huh? No candidate you or I would vote for. The day our surgeons walk out of the ER is the day Mr. Governor gets the axe.
This doesn't change anything. Leaving me to die is illegal.
Ha. Since when? Before, the state would pick up the tab for folks without insurance. Now that almost no one has insurance, it doesn't pay much to be a doctor. Without this leverage, do you think I would even be here right now? Hell no. I'd be a medic in the mid-east helping Obama take over the universe. These days, those with honor are over seas dying for their country. Those without are at home pillaging its people. I don't make the rules. I just make the best of what I have, and right now that means a nice new house on Lake Minnetonka. Debbie says it's a nice address. I'm really looking forward to it.
No, I mean legal. As in, I have a lawyer and I will sue you.
Sue me? Ha! Haven't you been listening? This room you are in...this is today's courtroom. That's right! Welcome to Judge Jerry, your honorable Jerry Witherspoon MD presiding. Let's see, first case: I, the judge have allegedly murdered you, Mr. Hanson...hm. Well, I find the defendant innocent on all counts. Case dismissed.
You're insane.
Am I? Is it also insane that I have actually operated on every judge in this county? Most lawyers. Hell, if you have something more valuable to offer than that sweet lake home, I'm all ears. You get a clean procedure and nice, neat stiches for legal immunity in a court room. I seriously doubt you can offer that.
Alright, look. [argh] I can help you out. I know a guy. He's a state congressman.
Yes?
Do you know about the bill that is going to hit the house floor next week?
Which one?
The one that appropriates 10 million to this hospital.
Yes.
He was going to vote it down, but I can change his mind.
Oh, yeah? How's that?
He owes me a favor.
Well then. Why didn't you say so, friend. Tell you what. I'll do the operation. If he votes yes, you come back anytime you get sick. Your family too. If he votes no, I'm suggest you watch your heath. Comprende?
Comprende.
Good news first.
We can cure your stomach ache.
That's great news. What's the bad news?
It will cost you.
That's fine. How much?
How much you got?
Excuse me?
You heard me.
This is a hospital. You have my insurance information. Paid an arm and a leg for it.
Heh. Insurance. Arm and leg. Times are tough, man. Seriously, what's it worth to you?
Worth to me?
That's right. I've got a little fun fact about your condition. Turns out a burst appendix can cause massive infection and even death?
Yes, I did know that, doctor.
So, what's your life worth, partner?
Look, I approve the operation. Enough of this. I'm in quite a lot of pain. Let's get on with it.
I take credit cards, cash, cars, real estate, daughters. Come on, man, what you got?
You can't be serious.
Ha. Me serious? Where have you been, man? You obviously haven't been in an ER for a while. Things have changed. Money, keys, off shore accounts. We don't have all day, man.
You're going to jail for this.
Jail?
You better have a good lawyer.
Lawyer? Look. Your appendix is about to burst. You give me your house and your cars and I will take it out right now using this sterile scalpel with antiseptic and local anesthesia. Or, I sedate you and hide you in a closet until you are dead.
What are you doing? Threatening me?
I'm sorry, but you do not have a very strong position right now.
Why are you doing this?
You want motivation? Alright. I owe the big guy $50,000 for my mother's liver transplant. Is that what you want? Don't act like you've never had a knife to your throat. This isn't 2008 any more. Right now I am your personal savior, and I say your money or your life. Your call.
You listen to me. I can give you my keys, but that doesn't stop the law from breaking down your doors. What you are doing is illegal. I know my rights. The law is on my side.
Who is this guy? Debbie, where did you get this guy? Alright, I like you so I'm going to save you a lot of trouble. Maybe your life. This recession, or depression whatever you call it...it has given some of us some, well, opportunities. You know that the government rescued a lot of banks and insurance companies, right?
Right. Sure.
Well, turns out the government also "rescued" this very hospital, see? Basically, this means the government printed money to keep us up and running. Look, you can't ask a man to resist a hundred dollar bill on the ground. Before all this we overcharged the insurance companies. They looked the other way and overcharged clients. Now, we overcharge government. We don't care where it comes from. You can't blame us for that, for taking what no one keeps track of. Before we were taking care of shareholders for valuable market share. Now we take care of our own. The truth is, we doctors can take whatever we want. We're a hospital. Now, what politician would let this hospital fail, huh? No candidate you or I would vote for. The day our surgeons walk out of the ER is the day Mr. Governor gets the axe.
This doesn't change anything. Leaving me to die is illegal.
Ha. Since when? Before, the state would pick up the tab for folks without insurance. Now that almost no one has insurance, it doesn't pay much to be a doctor. Without this leverage, do you think I would even be here right now? Hell no. I'd be a medic in the mid-east helping Obama take over the universe. These days, those with honor are over seas dying for their country. Those without are at home pillaging its people. I don't make the rules. I just make the best of what I have, and right now that means a nice new house on Lake Minnetonka. Debbie says it's a nice address. I'm really looking forward to it.
No, I mean legal. As in, I have a lawyer and I will sue you.
Sue me? Ha! Haven't you been listening? This room you are in...this is today's courtroom. That's right! Welcome to Judge Jerry, your honorable Jerry Witherspoon MD presiding. Let's see, first case: I, the judge have allegedly murdered you, Mr. Hanson...hm. Well, I find the defendant innocent on all counts. Case dismissed.
You're insane.
Am I? Is it also insane that I have actually operated on every judge in this county? Most lawyers. Hell, if you have something more valuable to offer than that sweet lake home, I'm all ears. You get a clean procedure and nice, neat stiches for legal immunity in a court room. I seriously doubt you can offer that.
Alright, look. [argh] I can help you out. I know a guy. He's a state congressman.
Yes?
Do you know about the bill that is going to hit the house floor next week?
Which one?
The one that appropriates 10 million to this hospital.
Yes.
He was going to vote it down, but I can change his mind.
Oh, yeah? How's that?
He owes me a favor.
Well then. Why didn't you say so, friend. Tell you what. I'll do the operation. If he votes yes, you come back anytime you get sick. Your family too. If he votes no, I'm suggest you watch your heath. Comprende?
Comprende.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Sam's Talent
Sam couldn't sing or dance or draw. He wasn't good at sports, he wasn't very popular, and his grades were far from perfect. In fact, if you met Sam, you might decide that he was perhaps the most mediocre boy on earth. And, he would be, if not for his one extraordinary talent. You see, unknown to anyone else, Sam always knew precisely what would happen the next day.
From a very early age Sam knew he had this talent. One time he told his mother that she would make peas the following day and that he would absolutely refuse to eat them. It turned out she did make peas, and yes, he did absolutely refuse to eat them...for a while anyway. He actually knew he would end up eating them. It sort of made him wonder why he resisted in the first place. As a boy, the perfect reliability of Sam's talent was only matched by the minuscule capacity of his imagination to benefit from it.
It wasn't that Sam knew everything that would happen the next day, just the things that related to him in some way...things that he would see, hear, touch, feel and smell. He would also know his mood and thoughts about whatever was going to take place. On really bad days, he enjoyed knowing that things would get better. On really good days he would try not to think about the next day.
As a boy, Sam found his talent frustrating...like the time lightning struck the tree in his front yard. He knew it was about to happen. He knew no one would be hurt. But, he forgot to tell anyone. It was just so obvious to him that he figured everyone knew. Of course, after it happened, he couldn't prove he had known it was going to happen. This bothered him. But, this was only the beginning...
Sam found his predictions could be dangerous. One time Sam told his brother: "Matt, tomorrow you are going to get sick." When Matt did get food poisoning, he had the nerve to actually blame Sam. Since "no one can predict the future," everyone in his family believed that Sam poisoned Matt to somehow to "pretend" that he was some sort of fortune teller. Sam decided to keep his talent to himself after that.
Sam developed a policy that he always followed. When he noticed something good was about to happen, he told no one. He enjoyed knowing others would be pleasantly surprised. On the other hand, he was very distraught when something bad was about to happen. He very much wanted to warn folks, but knew that he could not do so. He knew he might be blamed for whatever it was that was about to happen.
So, his policy regarding all predictions was simple: "Stay quiet and don't change the future."
Staying quiet worked well, but he was nonetheless privy to very disappointing news. One day he approached his father: "Dad, I'm going to try out for the high school baseball team, and I am not going to make the cut." His father was surprised by this. "Nonsense," he said. "Sure you will, son. You've got the best arm out there." Sam appreciated the encouragement, and hoped his own prediction was wrong. He wished he could see farther than one day in advance. He was becoming more aware of the brutal nature of his talent, and almost decided to skip the try-outs altogether. He went anyway because he very much wanted to make the team. Besides, he knew he would go. Despite his greatest effort, he was absolutely correct. Sam did not make the team.
Changing the future was not always possible. After all, Sam could only practice so much to prepare for his baseball tryouts in one day. But when changing the future was possible, it took much discipline for Sam to follow his "stay quiet" policy.
For example, the time Farmer Bob fell asleep at the tractor and drove into the barn. Sam knew it would happen, but didn't say a word. And there was the time Sam's mom got a terrible haircut. Sam had already seen it. It was awful and he knew she would be upset. He didn't say a word. If anyone truly knew of his talent, they would constantly blame him for not offering a warning. He could just see his mother scream: "Why didn't you tell me about this awful haircut, Sam? How dare you let this happen to me?" Indeed, staying quiet was a necessary policy.
But Sam did not always follow his policy completely. If he absolutely knew he could secretly fix something, he sometimes decided it was proper to change the future.
For example, when he noticed his mother was going to set the house on fire by leaving the stove on, he simply turned off the stove when she had finished cooking dinner. When he noticed his brother's tire was going to blow sending his car over a cliff to his death, Sam graciously changed the tire in the middle of the night beforehand. Of course, he couldn't prove the house would have burned or the tire would have blew. Sometimes he thought he was sort of crazy for doing these things, actually, but he did them anyway when he noticed something bad was about to happen. He didn't take credit for them, it's just what he did...he figured it was what anyone would do...
But, Sam knew he was only permitted to fix something if there was absolutely no chance of screwing anything up. Even if he prevented the earth from exploding, he would nonetheless be blamed for destroying such valuable explosives. He needed to be careful.
One time Sam foresaw his neighbor backing out of his driveway into another car, and a young girl in the back seat was injured as a result. He decided to stop this from happening. He pulled a trash can into the middle of the driveway to slow him down, and thus avoid the accident. But, as he walked from the driveway, he foresaw the car hitting a truck instead. So, he pulled two trash cans into the driveway, but then foresaw his car hitting a school bus! Sam's interventions all produced a more disastrous result. Finally, he decided to simply watch his neighbor get into the accident. Even as the event approached he was terrified to intervene. He couldn't imagine what kind of damage he might yet cause having seen the grim alternative consequences. He sat at his bedroom window and watched the car back into traffic. He closed his eyes a moment before the thunderous impact.
That day Sam considered all the things he had done. Was he sure he had helped? He couldn't say...
He imagined the possibilities: For example, what if mom, for some inexplicable reason, wanted that bad haircut? Yes, despite all her complaining, she still consciously decided it was what she wanted. Did he need to consider this possibility? He decided, reluctantly, that he did. He was both relieved and terrified by this responsibly. He saw so many problems all around him. He wanted desperately to fix them all.
But, could he really fix them? By secretly messing with other people's lives, he realized he became personally responsible...not for just his own fix, but for any negative consequences resulting from it! How could he be so confident he knew what was best? After all, he could only see one day in advance.
Maybe, he pondered, rather than fixing other people's problems, he should focus on improving what he knew he could. After all, many things are broken, but there are an unlimited number of things to improve. So, he decided that instead of focusing on the future problems of other people, he would instead focus on the dreams and desires of the one person he could actually, fully, and openly comprehend...himself.
He started small. Seeing that his room would be dirty the next day, he cleaned it and arranged his toys. As he cleaned, he immediately foresaw a clean room the next day. This pleased him, although he knew it was a bit of a waste of his special talent.
He became obsessed, looking for anything that might improve the next day. He trimmed some shrubs around his family's house and mowed the lawn. He hadn't foreseen anything, just figured it was something good to do, something safe and concrete. Sure enough, with each limb he snipped he foresaw the same one shorter the next day. Then, he tried something more complicated. Seeing he wouldn't get a very good grade on his next test, he studied harder. It worked, but still didn't prove anything. He was quite bothered. "What is the point of being so talented if I can't ever use my talent," he asked himself. He sort of figured he should be famous for this talent. He decided to set aside his aspirations of fame for a while to actually accomplish something...
Sam found the next day could be improved in so many ways. He would study until he could imagine foreseeing a good grade on his next test. Before long he started foreseeing, then getting, good grades in school. It's not hard to understand why, but there were other anomalies that were far more unpredictable. One day he was singing in the shower and foresaw himself as a rock star. He did not become a rock star, but did get a lead part in the school musical a week later. He practiced hitting and fielding all the time and imagined the day he would foresee himself playing 2nd base. Sure enough, the next spring he was not surprised to foresee himself making the baseball team. He did all of this despite his almost complete lack of (regular) talent. All he did was use his one unusual talent to notice the things he could personally improve, and he did them whenever he could. Deep inside he knew this was not actually much of a talent at all. He could only see ahead one day. All of this "imagining" was pure speculation.
In fact, he recognized that many others were just as talented in this respect. This saddened him. He wondered how he could possibly put his extraordinary talent to use. Finally, one day, he discovered how: As Sam was eating breakfast one morning, his brother Matt was trying to put together a model airplane. He was having difficulty and became frustrated. At first Sam foresaw Matt's plane scattered in little pieces all over the kitchen table. Sam happened to notice that Matt wasn't using the rubber cement correctly. Sam sat down and showed Matt how to properly affix the wing to the side of the fuselage. Immediately, Sam foresaw the plane completely finished. He was shocked. "I think you can take it from here," he told Matt. Matt thanked him, and Sam walked up to his room in amazement. He asked himself, "How did I do that?"
Then it occurred to him...there weren't many problems he could truly fix himself, but, he could certainly use his talent to help others achieve what they desired. In fact, he imagined all of the wonderful things others could accomplish with his help. All he had to do was give appropriate advice when someone asked for it. Of course, Sam himself would benefit little from this. Others would take the credit for using Sam's talent. Nonetheless, Sam decided to give it a try.
He decided to expand his policy to: "Stay quiet, but help others whenever they ask for it."
He happened to know a lot about building model airplanes, so he joined a model airplane club. In the first meeting he had a chance to test his talent. The folks in the club were anxious to ask him questions and Sam was delighted to watch the (next day's) models snap into shape instantly as he walked around the room offering advice. It was working!
During one club meeting, an older gentleman named Rufus mulled over his half-built aircraft carrier. Finally, he asked for some help. "So, Sam, what is the best way to affix this deck to the top, here?" Sam wasn't sure at first, but gave what he considered a good guess. He expected to foresee the deck instantly affixed to the top of the carrier, but it still appeared unfinished. "Wait. I don't think that is going to work," Sam immediately said, and quickly offered another suggestion. To his surprise, again, the same result. Disappointed, Sam sat and pondered the model for a few minutes. It was more difficult than he expected. Finally, he realized his mistake. He knew exactly why his previous suggestions didn't work. He explained precisely how the deck of the aircraft carrier was to be affixed. By looking at the plans, he absolutely knew he was correct. He expected to foresee the carrier take shape, but, to his surprise, it didn't. He checked the plans again to confirm he was right. He was. Even after he repeated his suggestion the carrier remained unfinished.
"Rufus, you have to believe me. My first two suggestions were incorrect, but I see my mistake, and promise you this third suggestion will work."
He responded, "Oh, I believe you, Sam, entirely."
"Are you sure? Because..."
"Because why?"
"Well, because, well, I think you may not believe that I am credible, having given you two poor suggestions."
"That is correct, you did lose credibility. Would you like me to show you something extraordinary?"
"Sure."
Suddenly, Sam foresaw the aircraft carrier instantly snap into shape. Not only that, but he saw it resting in a large, ornate, glass showcase. Rufus sat back in his chair, removed his glasses, and looked up at Sam.
"Sam, I have noticed you are very talented. Have you ever thought about your future?"
"I have indeed, Rufus. Quite a lot actually."
"Good. So have I, and I see that you are capable of great things."
"Thank you, Rufus, but you may be overestimating..."
"I'm sorry? Are you saying you don't find me credible?"
Sam saw the aircraft carrier suddenly splintered into pieces and resting on the table.
Rufus smiled and pushed his glasses back over his nose. He continued pondering the aircraft carrier. Sam thought for a moment...
"Yes, Rufus, I believe you are credible. Why on earth should I believe otherwise?"
The carrier again became beautifully restored, and again sat in the glass case.
"Thank you, Sam. You know, you should come to my place tomorrow. I have a very nice glass case for it."
Then, the most strange thing happened. Sam foresaw himself on the bridge of a real aircraft carrier. Then, he saw himself as a passenger in a fighter jet...very strange indeed. He was suddenly snorkeling in the Caribbean, then fishing off the coast of Alaska. Such wonderful things. He didn't know what to make of it. He had never foreseen such things and they had never changed with such speed. It was as if his entire next day was completely changing every moment.
"Yes, and after that, perhaps you would be interested in learning about some of my other hobbies. Or, perhaps you have something in mind."
Sam was still shocked by the many things that blazed through his next day. Suddenly, he thought about sitting in his basement. Immediately, that was what he foresaw. He thought about skydiving and it became as real as any of his other foresights. As a matter of fact, almost everything he imagined became the next day's reality, as if he could do anything he wanted. He realized his pause was becoming lengthy and a bit rude. Rufus spoke up again...
"On second thought, I'm actually quite busy tomorrow. Must be off. I'll see you at the next club meeting."
The flashes of hundreds of possibilities suddenly stopped, and Sam foresaw himself sitting in his basement watching a movie. As much as he imagined other possibilities, none of them stuck. Somehow, he had suddenly lost this interesting power. His ability to instantly change the future was gone.
"That sounds good, Rufus. See you next time."
"Were all of those foresights really possible?" he thought. He had never been wrong, but he had never seen them change so fast. Rufus must have been willing and able to offer Sam whatever he wanted. How could have Sam prepared for such an event? Sure, he had thought a lot about the future, almost constantly, up to 24 hours in advance. This was an unfamiliar and overwhelming situation. He had much less experience with the future beyond 24 hours...that was much more difficult.
Sam was suddenly terrified. Had he missed the greatest opportunity of his life? What if he never saw Rufus again! His mind was racing. "It would have been so easy," he thought. "All I needed to do was know what it was I actually wanted. It's just so simple. Why didn't I know? Why didn't I just pick something?" The thought possessed him. He absolutely had to do something...
Sam ran outside and saw Rufus approaching his car in the parking ramp. He yelled: "Rufus, hold on just a minute." Rufus stopped beside his car and watched Sam approach, smiling.
"Rufus, I would like to join you tomorrow. Perhaps you could show me some of your hobbies."
"I'm sorry, Sam, but I did realize I have a lot of work to do. Maybe some other time."
Sam thought very hard and tried to imagine the possibilities ahead of him, the ones he had just seen. Such wonderful things. He realized Rufus could make all of his dreams true...anything he wanted. He didn't see the flicker of possibilities as he had before. He still foresaw himself sitting in his basement watching movies the next day. He needed to change that.
"Rufus, please, can you PLEASE let me come over tomorrow? I would really like to see that aircraft carrier case."
"I'm sorry, Sam, like I said, I'm quite busy."
Sam became agitated. He couldn't believe he may have wasted his only chance to have everything he ever dreamed of. He would not...could not let Rufus leave. He could not bear to watch such an opportunity drift away, possibly forever.
Suddenly, Sam foresaw awful, terrible things. He was no longer sitting on his couch. No, suddenly he was being handcuffed by police officers. He saw himself dragged into a police car. Sam was shocked. He had never imagined such a thing. It couldn't be. Rufus opened his car door.
Sam reached forward and took hold of Rufus' jacket. He pulled Rufus toward him until they were standing face to face.
"Rufus...I'm afraid I can't let you go. I'm sorry, but I just can't. I have seen such wonderful things. These are my dreams. I only ask you to give them back."
Rufus slowly backed against the car door. He was horrified. He held his hands in the air. Sam spoke calmly and deliberately...
"Rufus. I do know what you are capable of. I know you have the power to grant me anything I wish. I have a feeling that you know what I am talking about. You know that I have this talent. You said so yourself, and you also know the opportunities you, only a moment ago, wished to offer me. You have the awesome power to take all of that away. Why would you? What gives you the right to just walk away from me? What gives you that right?"
A tear fell from Rufus' eye. Sam was trembling. He had never felt such rage. It consumed him like nothing he had ever experienced. He suddenly foresaw steel bars close in front of him. Then, he foresaw himself being beaten bloody in the jail cell by a band of street thugs. "NO! NO!" he thought. He did not deserve to go to jail. He had done nothing, nothing at all.
"Rufus. What have you done? Why are you doing this to me, for God's sake? All I wanted was for you to extend the same offer you did only moments ago. Why won't you grant this, Rufus? What has changed since then? Why would you send me to jail instead? Why do you curse me like this?"
Sam noticed that he was shaking Rufus violently. He suddenly foresaw himself in front of a judge. He saw a man in a black hat testifying against him. He looked around and noticed the same man standing across the parking lot. "How could this be," Sam thought? "I have never done anything wrong, not in my whole life. I have never cheated, stolen, or laid a hand on anyone. I have done nothing but help people and I didn't even expect credit. How could I suddenly become a criminal. Rufus, how dare you force these things upon me. Why, Rufus, WHY?!"
Rufus remained calm as Sam accosted him. He was frail and weak. He spoke softly...
"Sam, I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about."
Sam pondered unthinkable things. He imagined striking Rufus, first for taking everything away, and then for sending him to jail. "How could this old man do such a thing," he thought. His hand held Rufus' collar up against his chin.
Then he noticed Rufus' eyes. They were stern, yet gentle and welcoming. He wasn't the least bit defensive, angry, or afraid. They seemed to be asking him something, or maybe telling...it was something important. Sam froze. He didn't want all of the things Rufus had offered him any more. He just wanted to get out of jail. He looked to the side and saw the man in the black hat looking at him. He looked back at Rufus' steady expression. Sam knew his foresights were always accurate. He closed his eyes. He wanted desperately to change the future. He knew he could not. He could change others' futures, but his own was set in stone. "Oh, if only it wasn't," he wished.
But then, looking at Rufus, he decided, for once, to completely ignore his foresight. He decided that he must accept whatever was to happen the next day, and that he had no right to harm Rufus. If he was going to go to jail, so be it, but Rufus did not need to suffer as well.
He slowly released Rufus and retreated a half a step, placing his hand over his eyes in shame. He knew he had been outside himself. He knew what an awful thing he had done. Such terrible thoughts. He listened for the police sirens.
Sam felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I'll see you at the next club meeting, Sam, okay? I look forward to it."
"Okay, Rufus."
Rufus entered his car and drove off. He stood silent and alone in the middle of the parking garage. He closed his eyes and reluctantly tried to foresee the next day. In his last foresight he was standing beneath the tall wooden bench. The judge loomed over him like a giant, black avalanche. He was terrified to find out, but he just needed to see the judge's verdict.
Then, to Sam's dismay, he foresaw something he had never experienced. Sam could see nothing. He thought harder, sinking deep into concentration. He was desperate to discover his fate. Nothing at all. It was more terrifying than any prediction. Had he lost his foresight? He suddenly felt completely blind and alone. How could he go on like this? How could he know what he was supposed to be doing without his talent? He felt adrift in an ocean of uncertainty. This was completely unfamiliar to him.
Sam walked slowly through the garage, staring at the gray concrete in front of him. He was consumed by a daze of confusion and emptiness. Suddenly he saw a shadow approach. He looked up and was startled to see the man in the black hat...
"Hey, kid, I really thought you were going to do some damage to that old man. You better watch it, you hear? I might have called the police."
"Yes, sir."
Sam stood completely still beneath the yellow lights of the parking garage as he watched the man walked off into the darkness.
From that day forward, Sam continued to be, perhaps, the most mediocre boy on earth. Oh sure, his grades improved, and he became a capable second baseman, but his great talent was forever lost that evening in the parking garage. No one can say what might have become of Sam had he retained this talent because no one knew that he ever had it. Rufus and Sam became good friends and, rumor has it, they enjoy helping each other build model airplanes to this day.
From a very early age Sam knew he had this talent. One time he told his mother that she would make peas the following day and that he would absolutely refuse to eat them. It turned out she did make peas, and yes, he did absolutely refuse to eat them...for a while anyway. He actually knew he would end up eating them. It sort of made him wonder why he resisted in the first place. As a boy, the perfect reliability of Sam's talent was only matched by the minuscule capacity of his imagination to benefit from it.
It wasn't that Sam knew everything that would happen the next day, just the things that related to him in some way...things that he would see, hear, touch, feel and smell. He would also know his mood and thoughts about whatever was going to take place. On really bad days, he enjoyed knowing that things would get better. On really good days he would try not to think about the next day.
As a boy, Sam found his talent frustrating...like the time lightning struck the tree in his front yard. He knew it was about to happen. He knew no one would be hurt. But, he forgot to tell anyone. It was just so obvious to him that he figured everyone knew. Of course, after it happened, he couldn't prove he had known it was going to happen. This bothered him. But, this was only the beginning...
Sam found his predictions could be dangerous. One time Sam told his brother: "Matt, tomorrow you are going to get sick." When Matt did get food poisoning, he had the nerve to actually blame Sam. Since "no one can predict the future," everyone in his family believed that Sam poisoned Matt to somehow to "pretend" that he was some sort of fortune teller. Sam decided to keep his talent to himself after that.
Sam developed a policy that he always followed. When he noticed something good was about to happen, he told no one. He enjoyed knowing others would be pleasantly surprised. On the other hand, he was very distraught when something bad was about to happen. He very much wanted to warn folks, but knew that he could not do so. He knew he might be blamed for whatever it was that was about to happen.
So, his policy regarding all predictions was simple: "Stay quiet and don't change the future."
Staying quiet worked well, but he was nonetheless privy to very disappointing news. One day he approached his father: "Dad, I'm going to try out for the high school baseball team, and I am not going to make the cut." His father was surprised by this. "Nonsense," he said. "Sure you will, son. You've got the best arm out there." Sam appreciated the encouragement, and hoped his own prediction was wrong. He wished he could see farther than one day in advance. He was becoming more aware of the brutal nature of his talent, and almost decided to skip the try-outs altogether. He went anyway because he very much wanted to make the team. Besides, he knew he would go. Despite his greatest effort, he was absolutely correct. Sam did not make the team.
Changing the future was not always possible. After all, Sam could only practice so much to prepare for his baseball tryouts in one day. But when changing the future was possible, it took much discipline for Sam to follow his "stay quiet" policy.
For example, the time Farmer Bob fell asleep at the tractor and drove into the barn. Sam knew it would happen, but didn't say a word. And there was the time Sam's mom got a terrible haircut. Sam had already seen it. It was awful and he knew she would be upset. He didn't say a word. If anyone truly knew of his talent, they would constantly blame him for not offering a warning. He could just see his mother scream: "Why didn't you tell me about this awful haircut, Sam? How dare you let this happen to me?" Indeed, staying quiet was a necessary policy.
But Sam did not always follow his policy completely. If he absolutely knew he could secretly fix something, he sometimes decided it was proper to change the future.
For example, when he noticed his mother was going to set the house on fire by leaving the stove on, he simply turned off the stove when she had finished cooking dinner. When he noticed his brother's tire was going to blow sending his car over a cliff to his death, Sam graciously changed the tire in the middle of the night beforehand. Of course, he couldn't prove the house would have burned or the tire would have blew. Sometimes he thought he was sort of crazy for doing these things, actually, but he did them anyway when he noticed something bad was about to happen. He didn't take credit for them, it's just what he did...he figured it was what anyone would do...
But, Sam knew he was only permitted to fix something if there was absolutely no chance of screwing anything up. Even if he prevented the earth from exploding, he would nonetheless be blamed for destroying such valuable explosives. He needed to be careful.
One time Sam foresaw his neighbor backing out of his driveway into another car, and a young girl in the back seat was injured as a result. He decided to stop this from happening. He pulled a trash can into the middle of the driveway to slow him down, and thus avoid the accident. But, as he walked from the driveway, he foresaw the car hitting a truck instead. So, he pulled two trash cans into the driveway, but then foresaw his car hitting a school bus! Sam's interventions all produced a more disastrous result. Finally, he decided to simply watch his neighbor get into the accident. Even as the event approached he was terrified to intervene. He couldn't imagine what kind of damage he might yet cause having seen the grim alternative consequences. He sat at his bedroom window and watched the car back into traffic. He closed his eyes a moment before the thunderous impact.
That day Sam considered all the things he had done. Was he sure he had helped? He couldn't say...
He imagined the possibilities: For example, what if mom, for some inexplicable reason, wanted that bad haircut? Yes, despite all her complaining, she still consciously decided it was what she wanted. Did he need to consider this possibility? He decided, reluctantly, that he did. He was both relieved and terrified by this responsibly. He saw so many problems all around him. He wanted desperately to fix them all.
But, could he really fix them? By secretly messing with other people's lives, he realized he became personally responsible...not for just his own fix, but for any negative consequences resulting from it! How could he be so confident he knew what was best? After all, he could only see one day in advance.
Maybe, he pondered, rather than fixing other people's problems, he should focus on improving what he knew he could. After all, many things are broken, but there are an unlimited number of things to improve. So, he decided that instead of focusing on the future problems of other people, he would instead focus on the dreams and desires of the one person he could actually, fully, and openly comprehend...himself.
He started small. Seeing that his room would be dirty the next day, he cleaned it and arranged his toys. As he cleaned, he immediately foresaw a clean room the next day. This pleased him, although he knew it was a bit of a waste of his special talent.
He became obsessed, looking for anything that might improve the next day. He trimmed some shrubs around his family's house and mowed the lawn. He hadn't foreseen anything, just figured it was something good to do, something safe and concrete. Sure enough, with each limb he snipped he foresaw the same one shorter the next day. Then, he tried something more complicated. Seeing he wouldn't get a very good grade on his next test, he studied harder. It worked, but still didn't prove anything. He was quite bothered. "What is the point of being so talented if I can't ever use my talent," he asked himself. He sort of figured he should be famous for this talent. He decided to set aside his aspirations of fame for a while to actually accomplish something...
Sam found the next day could be improved in so many ways. He would study until he could imagine foreseeing a good grade on his next test. Before long he started foreseeing, then getting, good grades in school. It's not hard to understand why, but there were other anomalies that were far more unpredictable. One day he was singing in the shower and foresaw himself as a rock star. He did not become a rock star, but did get a lead part in the school musical a week later. He practiced hitting and fielding all the time and imagined the day he would foresee himself playing 2nd base. Sure enough, the next spring he was not surprised to foresee himself making the baseball team. He did all of this despite his almost complete lack of (regular) talent. All he did was use his one unusual talent to notice the things he could personally improve, and he did them whenever he could. Deep inside he knew this was not actually much of a talent at all. He could only see ahead one day. All of this "imagining" was pure speculation.
In fact, he recognized that many others were just as talented in this respect. This saddened him. He wondered how he could possibly put his extraordinary talent to use. Finally, one day, he discovered how: As Sam was eating breakfast one morning, his brother Matt was trying to put together a model airplane. He was having difficulty and became frustrated. At first Sam foresaw Matt's plane scattered in little pieces all over the kitchen table. Sam happened to notice that Matt wasn't using the rubber cement correctly. Sam sat down and showed Matt how to properly affix the wing to the side of the fuselage. Immediately, Sam foresaw the plane completely finished. He was shocked. "I think you can take it from here," he told Matt. Matt thanked him, and Sam walked up to his room in amazement. He asked himself, "How did I do that?"
Then it occurred to him...there weren't many problems he could truly fix himself, but, he could certainly use his talent to help others achieve what they desired. In fact, he imagined all of the wonderful things others could accomplish with his help. All he had to do was give appropriate advice when someone asked for it. Of course, Sam himself would benefit little from this. Others would take the credit for using Sam's talent. Nonetheless, Sam decided to give it a try.
He decided to expand his policy to: "Stay quiet, but help others whenever they ask for it."
He happened to know a lot about building model airplanes, so he joined a model airplane club. In the first meeting he had a chance to test his talent. The folks in the club were anxious to ask him questions and Sam was delighted to watch the (next day's) models snap into shape instantly as he walked around the room offering advice. It was working!
During one club meeting, an older gentleman named Rufus mulled over his half-built aircraft carrier. Finally, he asked for some help. "So, Sam, what is the best way to affix this deck to the top, here?" Sam wasn't sure at first, but gave what he considered a good guess. He expected to foresee the deck instantly affixed to the top of the carrier, but it still appeared unfinished. "Wait. I don't think that is going to work," Sam immediately said, and quickly offered another suggestion. To his surprise, again, the same result. Disappointed, Sam sat and pondered the model for a few minutes. It was more difficult than he expected. Finally, he realized his mistake. He knew exactly why his previous suggestions didn't work. He explained precisely how the deck of the aircraft carrier was to be affixed. By looking at the plans, he absolutely knew he was correct. He expected to foresee the carrier take shape, but, to his surprise, it didn't. He checked the plans again to confirm he was right. He was. Even after he repeated his suggestion the carrier remained unfinished.
"Rufus, you have to believe me. My first two suggestions were incorrect, but I see my mistake, and promise you this third suggestion will work."
He responded, "Oh, I believe you, Sam, entirely."
"Are you sure? Because..."
"Because why?"
"Well, because, well, I think you may not believe that I am credible, having given you two poor suggestions."
"That is correct, you did lose credibility. Would you like me to show you something extraordinary?"
"Sure."
Suddenly, Sam foresaw the aircraft carrier instantly snap into shape. Not only that, but he saw it resting in a large, ornate, glass showcase. Rufus sat back in his chair, removed his glasses, and looked up at Sam.
"Sam, I have noticed you are very talented. Have you ever thought about your future?"
"I have indeed, Rufus. Quite a lot actually."
"Good. So have I, and I see that you are capable of great things."
"Thank you, Rufus, but you may be overestimating..."
"I'm sorry? Are you saying you don't find me credible?"
Sam saw the aircraft carrier suddenly splintered into pieces and resting on the table.
Rufus smiled and pushed his glasses back over his nose. He continued pondering the aircraft carrier. Sam thought for a moment...
"Yes, Rufus, I believe you are credible. Why on earth should I believe otherwise?"
The carrier again became beautifully restored, and again sat in the glass case.
"Thank you, Sam. You know, you should come to my place tomorrow. I have a very nice glass case for it."
Then, the most strange thing happened. Sam foresaw himself on the bridge of a real aircraft carrier. Then, he saw himself as a passenger in a fighter jet...very strange indeed. He was suddenly snorkeling in the Caribbean, then fishing off the coast of Alaska. Such wonderful things. He didn't know what to make of it. He had never foreseen such things and they had never changed with such speed. It was as if his entire next day was completely changing every moment.
"Yes, and after that, perhaps you would be interested in learning about some of my other hobbies. Or, perhaps you have something in mind."
Sam was still shocked by the many things that blazed through his next day. Suddenly, he thought about sitting in his basement. Immediately, that was what he foresaw. He thought about skydiving and it became as real as any of his other foresights. As a matter of fact, almost everything he imagined became the next day's reality, as if he could do anything he wanted. He realized his pause was becoming lengthy and a bit rude. Rufus spoke up again...
"On second thought, I'm actually quite busy tomorrow. Must be off. I'll see you at the next club meeting."
The flashes of hundreds of possibilities suddenly stopped, and Sam foresaw himself sitting in his basement watching a movie. As much as he imagined other possibilities, none of them stuck. Somehow, he had suddenly lost this interesting power. His ability to instantly change the future was gone.
"That sounds good, Rufus. See you next time."
"Were all of those foresights really possible?" he thought. He had never been wrong, but he had never seen them change so fast. Rufus must have been willing and able to offer Sam whatever he wanted. How could have Sam prepared for such an event? Sure, he had thought a lot about the future, almost constantly, up to 24 hours in advance. This was an unfamiliar and overwhelming situation. He had much less experience with the future beyond 24 hours...that was much more difficult.
Sam was suddenly terrified. Had he missed the greatest opportunity of his life? What if he never saw Rufus again! His mind was racing. "It would have been so easy," he thought. "All I needed to do was know what it was I actually wanted. It's just so simple. Why didn't I know? Why didn't I just pick something?" The thought possessed him. He absolutely had to do something...
Sam ran outside and saw Rufus approaching his car in the parking ramp. He yelled: "Rufus, hold on just a minute." Rufus stopped beside his car and watched Sam approach, smiling.
"Rufus, I would like to join you tomorrow. Perhaps you could show me some of your hobbies."
"I'm sorry, Sam, but I did realize I have a lot of work to do. Maybe some other time."
Sam thought very hard and tried to imagine the possibilities ahead of him, the ones he had just seen. Such wonderful things. He realized Rufus could make all of his dreams true...anything he wanted. He didn't see the flicker of possibilities as he had before. He still foresaw himself sitting in his basement watching movies the next day. He needed to change that.
"Rufus, please, can you PLEASE let me come over tomorrow? I would really like to see that aircraft carrier case."
"I'm sorry, Sam, like I said, I'm quite busy."
Sam became agitated. He couldn't believe he may have wasted his only chance to have everything he ever dreamed of. He would not...could not let Rufus leave. He could not bear to watch such an opportunity drift away, possibly forever.
Suddenly, Sam foresaw awful, terrible things. He was no longer sitting on his couch. No, suddenly he was being handcuffed by police officers. He saw himself dragged into a police car. Sam was shocked. He had never imagined such a thing. It couldn't be. Rufus opened his car door.
Sam reached forward and took hold of Rufus' jacket. He pulled Rufus toward him until they were standing face to face.
"Rufus...I'm afraid I can't let you go. I'm sorry, but I just can't. I have seen such wonderful things. These are my dreams. I only ask you to give them back."
Rufus slowly backed against the car door. He was horrified. He held his hands in the air. Sam spoke calmly and deliberately...
"Rufus. I do know what you are capable of. I know you have the power to grant me anything I wish. I have a feeling that you know what I am talking about. You know that I have this talent. You said so yourself, and you also know the opportunities you, only a moment ago, wished to offer me. You have the awesome power to take all of that away. Why would you? What gives you the right to just walk away from me? What gives you that right?"
A tear fell from Rufus' eye. Sam was trembling. He had never felt such rage. It consumed him like nothing he had ever experienced. He suddenly foresaw steel bars close in front of him. Then, he foresaw himself being beaten bloody in the jail cell by a band of street thugs. "NO! NO!" he thought. He did not deserve to go to jail. He had done nothing, nothing at all.
"Rufus. What have you done? Why are you doing this to me, for God's sake? All I wanted was for you to extend the same offer you did only moments ago. Why won't you grant this, Rufus? What has changed since then? Why would you send me to jail instead? Why do you curse me like this?"
Sam noticed that he was shaking Rufus violently. He suddenly foresaw himself in front of a judge. He saw a man in a black hat testifying against him. He looked around and noticed the same man standing across the parking lot. "How could this be," Sam thought? "I have never done anything wrong, not in my whole life. I have never cheated, stolen, or laid a hand on anyone. I have done nothing but help people and I didn't even expect credit. How could I suddenly become a criminal. Rufus, how dare you force these things upon me. Why, Rufus, WHY?!"
Rufus remained calm as Sam accosted him. He was frail and weak. He spoke softly...
"Sam, I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about."
Sam pondered unthinkable things. He imagined striking Rufus, first for taking everything away, and then for sending him to jail. "How could this old man do such a thing," he thought. His hand held Rufus' collar up against his chin.
Then he noticed Rufus' eyes. They were stern, yet gentle and welcoming. He wasn't the least bit defensive, angry, or afraid. They seemed to be asking him something, or maybe telling...it was something important. Sam froze. He didn't want all of the things Rufus had offered him any more. He just wanted to get out of jail. He looked to the side and saw the man in the black hat looking at him. He looked back at Rufus' steady expression. Sam knew his foresights were always accurate. He closed his eyes. He wanted desperately to change the future. He knew he could not. He could change others' futures, but his own was set in stone. "Oh, if only it wasn't," he wished.
But then, looking at Rufus, he decided, for once, to completely ignore his foresight. He decided that he must accept whatever was to happen the next day, and that he had no right to harm Rufus. If he was going to go to jail, so be it, but Rufus did not need to suffer as well.
He slowly released Rufus and retreated a half a step, placing his hand over his eyes in shame. He knew he had been outside himself. He knew what an awful thing he had done. Such terrible thoughts. He listened for the police sirens.
Sam felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I'll see you at the next club meeting, Sam, okay? I look forward to it."
"Okay, Rufus."
Rufus entered his car and drove off. He stood silent and alone in the middle of the parking garage. He closed his eyes and reluctantly tried to foresee the next day. In his last foresight he was standing beneath the tall wooden bench. The judge loomed over him like a giant, black avalanche. He was terrified to find out, but he just needed to see the judge's verdict.
Then, to Sam's dismay, he foresaw something he had never experienced. Sam could see nothing. He thought harder, sinking deep into concentration. He was desperate to discover his fate. Nothing at all. It was more terrifying than any prediction. Had he lost his foresight? He suddenly felt completely blind and alone. How could he go on like this? How could he know what he was supposed to be doing without his talent? He felt adrift in an ocean of uncertainty. This was completely unfamiliar to him.
Sam walked slowly through the garage, staring at the gray concrete in front of him. He was consumed by a daze of confusion and emptiness. Suddenly he saw a shadow approach. He looked up and was startled to see the man in the black hat...
"Hey, kid, I really thought you were going to do some damage to that old man. You better watch it, you hear? I might have called the police."
"Yes, sir."
Sam stood completely still beneath the yellow lights of the parking garage as he watched the man walked off into the darkness.
From that day forward, Sam continued to be, perhaps, the most mediocre boy on earth. Oh sure, his grades improved, and he became a capable second baseman, but his great talent was forever lost that evening in the parking garage. No one can say what might have become of Sam had he retained this talent because no one knew that he ever had it. Rufus and Sam became good friends and, rumor has it, they enjoy helping each other build model airplanes to this day.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Movie Time
A part of my soul dies for every moment I think about politics. Still, I'm curious to know what all the socialists out there have to say about this. Basically, I'd like to know why the following is complete bullshit.
20/20 thing
20/20 thing
Sunday, October 19, 2008
David's Question
David approached the microphone as he had been coached. He had never spoken into a microphone, but was excited to give it a try. He brought his lips to within inches of the wire mesh and spoke the words he had rehearsed so carefully: "Mr. Congressman, what are you going to do to help victims of the sub prime mortgage crisis and foreclosure?" He turned and looked at his parents who smiled and placed their hands on his shoulder. He had delivered the question beautifully.
The congressman responded.
Little man, we in Washington are doing everything we can to help the victims of this financial crisis, including the bank executives and shareholders. We have stolen from your parents to ensure their businesses continue to be profitable. Indeed, their enormous debts have already been forgiven. We won't let them fail.
Now, let me explain...stealing is very wrong for children like you. But, congressmen are special. They have the power to steal so long as the public doesn't notice.
But we don't have any money. Our family is broke.
Yes of course, but your mother, father, friends, family, and neighbors all work very hard to earn a living. This is good, because I will need a portion of those earnings to pay back the very large loan I have borrowed from the US Treasury on your behalf. I have really stolen out of their future pockets, and done it before the money actually reached their pockets.
Loan?
Yes. Rather than physically intercepting the money that would otherwise go into your parents' pockets, I printed that money. The rich folks need that money right now. In the future your parents won't even notice they are paying back the loan. They will be making the same amount of money, but that money will buy less things. It's very complicated and I don't expect you or your parents to ever understand. That is why it is possible for us to do this while taking away people's homes. You see, the rich folks lost much more than your parents did, so they really need that back, even if it means stealing it. If you become a congressman, maybe one day you can steal from innocent, hard-working families too. This also keeps them from saving. Saving is very bad for the rich folks, and therefore bad for our country.
Oh, okay. Thank you Mr. Congressman. But, in school, we learned that you are supposed to represent some people. I thought we were those people.
Oh, no, I'm sorry David. I represent the people who contribute to my campaign, and they need to make their money somehow. You see, if you don't notice these guys are stealing from you, then I say it's fine as long as I get a cut. So, here's how it works: They steal from you, they pay me, I pay them back. Then, you continue to pay for decades, and even generations into the future.
That doesn't sound fair.
Of course it's not fair, but at least I'm honest.
Thank you, I think.
Your very welcome, next question.
The congressman responded.
Little man, we in Washington are doing everything we can to help the victims of this financial crisis, including the bank executives and shareholders. We have stolen from your parents to ensure their businesses continue to be profitable. Indeed, their enormous debts have already been forgiven. We won't let them fail.
Now, let me explain...stealing is very wrong for children like you. But, congressmen are special. They have the power to steal so long as the public doesn't notice.
But we don't have any money. Our family is broke.
Yes of course, but your mother, father, friends, family, and neighbors all work very hard to earn a living. This is good, because I will need a portion of those earnings to pay back the very large loan I have borrowed from the US Treasury on your behalf. I have really stolen out of their future pockets, and done it before the money actually reached their pockets.
Loan?
Yes. Rather than physically intercepting the money that would otherwise go into your parents' pockets, I printed that money. The rich folks need that money right now. In the future your parents won't even notice they are paying back the loan. They will be making the same amount of money, but that money will buy less things. It's very complicated and I don't expect you or your parents to ever understand. That is why it is possible for us to do this while taking away people's homes. You see, the rich folks lost much more than your parents did, so they really need that back, even if it means stealing it. If you become a congressman, maybe one day you can steal from innocent, hard-working families too. This also keeps them from saving. Saving is very bad for the rich folks, and therefore bad for our country.
Oh, okay. Thank you Mr. Congressman. But, in school, we learned that you are supposed to represent some people. I thought we were those people.
Oh, no, I'm sorry David. I represent the people who contribute to my campaign, and they need to make their money somehow. You see, if you don't notice these guys are stealing from you, then I say it's fine as long as I get a cut. So, here's how it works: They steal from you, they pay me, I pay them back. Then, you continue to pay for decades, and even generations into the future.
That doesn't sound fair.
Of course it's not fair, but at least I'm honest.
Thank you, I think.
Your very welcome, next question.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Fidelity
As Rome burned, Nero sat in his estate over the city plucking his lire. This event went down in infamy as one of history's most disastrous examples of inept leadership and megalomania. The region burning was to become an expansion of Nero's living space. The guy executed his own mother. History has little good to say about Nero.
This gentleman was an excellent example of weakness and poor judgment. His unflattering legacy gives us a powerful and useful disincentive to repeat his mistakes. It makes me wonder...when a person has faltered enough, is there a time to accept the fact that his life is not an example to be followed, but one to be learned from? At some point, I wonder if Nero knew he would go down in history as a negative example. With honor, his last words "This is fidelity," just might suggest this is the case ("fidelity" can also translated as "faithfulness"). Was he really saying: "I have shown you a true example of the worst in human kind."
It begs the question...did he one day wake up and say to himself: "I am going to be the world's most potent example of evil, and in so much, of value to future generations"? Did he decide: "I will show how one person, if given the power, can cause unheard of strife and destruction. I will use my power to pillage the people for my own glory to the greatest extent possible. I will do so until death...until they garner the will to stop me..."
But, in his last words, historians believe he was referring the the soldier who was trying to stop the profuse bleeding from his neck (after his death was inevitable)...a sign he went to his grave convinced of his own greatness.
Yes, a truly evil man would say such a thing...
Such vice is fidelity bound to illusion, fallacy, and ignorance. This word should probably be reserved for two things...truth and love. We might be able to ignore the former, but can't help the latter.
This gentleman was an excellent example of weakness and poor judgment. His unflattering legacy gives us a powerful and useful disincentive to repeat his mistakes. It makes me wonder...when a person has faltered enough, is there a time to accept the fact that his life is not an example to be followed, but one to be learned from? At some point, I wonder if Nero knew he would go down in history as a negative example. With honor, his last words "This is fidelity," just might suggest this is the case ("fidelity" can also translated as "faithfulness"). Was he really saying: "I have shown you a true example of the worst in human kind."
It begs the question...did he one day wake up and say to himself: "I am going to be the world's most potent example of evil, and in so much, of value to future generations"? Did he decide: "I will show how one person, if given the power, can cause unheard of strife and destruction. I will use my power to pillage the people for my own glory to the greatest extent possible. I will do so until death...until they garner the will to stop me..."
But, in his last words, historians believe he was referring the the soldier who was trying to stop the profuse bleeding from his neck (after his death was inevitable)...a sign he went to his grave convinced of his own greatness.
Yes, a truly evil man would say such a thing...
Such vice is fidelity bound to illusion, fallacy, and ignorance. This word should probably be reserved for two things...truth and love. We might be able to ignore the former, but can't help the latter.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Flatville
Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the Flatville mayoral debate. My name is Mr. Pancake, and today we are meeting with our two candidates to hear what they have to say about the future of Flatville. No doubt, the topic of this evening will be boulders.
Yes, these are very percarious times. As you all know, our little town rests in a valley between two enormous, towering peaks. As you also know, atop each peak rests a boulder large enough to flatten every building in town.
In fact, if you look directly behind me, then bring your head back to about a 45 degree angle you can see the first of these boulders. See? Now, if you turn around 180 degrees, without lowering your head, you can see the second. See? Each of these boulders teeters on a tiny pedestal. We know that an event as unpredictable as a thunderstorm could send either rampaging down the slope directly into your living rooms. Yes, this is very, very bad news. Okay, folks, you can turn back around now.
The boulder behind me, if it fell, would careen off the west slope and decimate the north half of town. The boulder behind you, if it fell, would be sent on a path directly through the south half of town. Our geologists have reported that, if one were to fall, it would strike the opposite mountain hard enough to send the other boulder down the far side and away from town.
So, the good news is, we can save one half of town. And more good news, we have two candidates fighting for you in this year's mayoral race:
Will Mr. South defend his position? Will he convince Flatville that the boulder behind him must not fall?
Will Mr. North defend his position? Will he convince Flatville that the boulder behind you must not fall?
Well, let's see what they have to say for themselves. Welcome candidates, to the final Flatville mayoral debate!
Mr. South: Thank you, Mr. Pancake, for the fine introduction. It's wonderful to be here in this great valley of ours. The greatest valley in the world!
Mr. North: Yes, I'd like to thank Mr. Pancake as well, and congratulate you all for being such compassionate, hard-working people. You are all just great.
Mr. Pancake: Okay, let's get right to it. Mr. South, why must the boulder behind you stay where it is?
Mr. South: Well, I'd like to first ask the folks of Flatville to do me a little favor. Ladies and gentlemen, please turn around for a moment and tilt your head back at a 45 degree angle again. Take a look. Do you see what I see? Do you see the the sun glimmer off of its polished golden surface? Do you see the ornate illustrations of kittens etched into the side? My fellow Flatvillians, I don't see a giant, dangerous boulder at all. No, what I see is a work of art. Now, I know what you're all thinking. Many folks, including my opponent, have told you that this "boulder" is a menace. Well, I admit that it very well may be. Nonetheless, by the end of my campaign you will wonder how you could ever have imagined such a thing. I'm not asking you to believe all that glitters is gold. Far from it. All I ask you is to consider the possibility that this particular object, this shiny sphere adorned with cute kittens, is something less than a menace. Let's put it this way. You know, maybe I'll just ask a very simple question. You can turn back around now. Alright, I am going to ask you a very simple question: Do you really think something so irresistibly adorable as playful kittens could be capable of mass destruction?
Mr. Pancake: But what about the boulder behind you, Mr. South? I think we can all agree both boulders are very dangerous. I want you to discuss how important it is that the boulder behind you stay put.
Mr. South: Well, I admit I fear either boulder falling, but let's focus on the benefits rather than such a bleak disaster.
Mr. Pankcake: Okay, I guess...Mr. North, what about you. Why should the boulder in front of you not fall?
Mr. North: Friends, those may look like innocent kittens now, but they will look like bloodthirsty kittens of death as they claw your houses into splinters. How dare you attempt to convince us otherwise, Mr. South? Flatvillian's know that 100 million metric tons moving at several hundred miles an hour is indeed capable of mass destruction. As such, Mr. South's precious kittens must be forced permanently off the back of that mountain. Yes, I am afraid we must eliminate the misleading golden boulder. It's irresistible whiskers must never be seen again.
Mr. Pancake: And how do you propose to remove the golden boulder?
Mr. North: We must put Flatville first. Yes, times will be tough for some, especially for the south half of town, but that is the price of freedom...security from nefarious kittens. Here is my plan: We will secure our town by releasing the boulder behind me. It will roll down the mountain and smash the other side. The shock will be so great that the boulder of evil will fall off the other side, never to be seen again! Yes, my friends, this rock may look ugly and dangerous, but it is our best weapon agains the scourge of those deceptive golden kittens. Some sacrafices will be required. We must have resolve. We must fight for a kitten-free Flatville.
Mr. South: Now, my opponent doesn't seem to have trouble speaking so harshly of these innocent little creatures. Look. We all know that times will be tough for many Flatvillians, and we agree that freedom does have a price. But, my opponent says that this price is the elimination of fuzziness; that we must watch that delightful golden sphere fall off the back side of the mountai0n never to be seen again. I don't know about you, but to me, this seems rather disturbing. Just look at it, ladies and gentlemen. Beautiful. Stunning even...Folks, we can do better. And I will tell you how: by believing those golden kittens are safe, cuddly, and good for Flatville. I'm going to be completely honest with you. What I ask for is nothing short of incredible. Yes, some say impossible. I ask you to join me in believing something wonderful...not true, but wonderful...that the boulder behind you is not dangerous. Now, my voice is soothing, ladies and gentlemen. Isn't it comforting? It is. Now, let's talk about honesty. As a consequence of my eloquence, many of you will believe absolutely anything I say, no matter how absurd. This is true. Those of you screaming and fainting...thank you. You prove my point. Now, can the rest of you join me in believing this lie? Yes you can. If you do, it is no longer a lie. We can bring down the golden boulder. Yes we can.
Mr. Pancake: Mr. South, if we follow your agenda, and bring down the golden boulder, some scientists report the schock will prompt the granite boulder to fall too, eliminating the remainder of Flatville. Do you support the destruction of both the north and south half of town in return for the arrival of that golden boulder?
Mr. South: Well, some scientists say that my opponent's granite boulder would knock the golden boulder towards Flatville as well. That is a risk we all share in either case. Some say it is an inevitability. But, why speculate when we can act...when we can start imagining my mayoral tenure. We should ask ourselves...if we are going to have both boulders anyway, shouldn't we be absolutely sure to get the gold one with kittens? In fact, and maybe I'm getting a little crazy here, but what if the granite boulder fell and then pushed that gorgeous golden sphere of the other side forever. Imagine it disappearing from view. That would be the worst of both worlds, wouldn't it? See how I am tricking you? See how the people cheer anyway? Oh, this is so fun.
Mr. North: Mr. South, you have just proposed the total destruction of Flatville to cheering crowds. I am afraid my debating skills cannot compete with that.
Mr. Pancake: Do either of you have any proposals that would save us from both boulders?
Mr North: Mr. Pancake, that is not the issue. One boulder must fall.
Mr. South: This is a subject where my opponent and I agree completely. One absolutely must fall. At least one.
Mr. Pancake: But historically, populations have pushed both boulders in the opposite direction, saving both halves of town. Why can't we work together to eliminate both threats?
Mr. South: [Cutting off Mr. North]. Let me take this one. I'm afraid we don't live in the 18th century any more. We live in a global economy. We have computers, cars, and central air. We have nitrogen widgets in beer cans. We simply can't accept the preposterous notion that today's complex society can be planned by profiteers. People need direction. They can't be asked to make these delicate decisions for themselves. Look, when folks get a paycheck, they make a profit. Right now they can use that money for anything they please, even things that do not have anything to do with boulders. Flatville knows that their paychecks must all go directly to the public good...directly to me. And, I will do what's best for Flatville: BRING DOWN THAT GOLDEN BOULDER.
Mr. North: My opponent is correct in some ways. We live in complex times. And, I'd like to believe my opponent is completely correct, but he is not. Some people simply cannot be fooled into thinking the public good is more important than their own family and community. Here is what I propose: Let's pretend people can keep their paychecks, but actually take their prosperity from them by taxing companies and income. Then, when we have stolen all of their wealth, we BRING DOWN THE GRANITE BOULDER AND END DECEPTIVE KITTENS FOREVER.
Mr. Pancake: So, both of you basically propose the transfer of wealth from the people into the hands of your own administration in order to do what's best for the public?
Both candidates: Yes.
Mr. Pancake: And, the only difference is that you, Mr. South, want people to know you are taking their money, and you, Mr. North, want to pretend that you are not taking their money but take it nonetheless.
Both candidates: Yes.
Mr. Pancake: And both of you believe the public good is the same as launching one of these giant boulders into Flatville?
Both candidates: It is.
Mr. South: Well, I for one think this would be a very good time to reach across the aisle. Perhaps we should work together on this one. Mr. North, do you live in either the north or south side of town?
Mr. North: Of course not, I live on that mountain way upriver.
Mr. South: Me too. Let's push both boulders into town at the same time. Flatville will need us more than ever then. What do you say?
Mr. North: Sounds fun. Count me in. I'm afraid you're right, Mr. South. I will never be able to convince the people of Flatville how deadly those kittens are unless they see for themselves. You almost even convinced me there for a second.
Mr Pancake: So, you both just agreed to bring down both boulders?
Mr South: That's right, Mr. Pancake, we have just made an agreement. Please put us on the same ticket, Flatville. Remember, divided we fail! What collaboration. What a great unification. You should all be proud of yourselves for picking two candidates with so much in common. What a delightful turn of events.
Mr. North: I'd also like to congratulate the people of Flatville for their resolve and courage during these trying times. Now I've gotta run. Good night.
Mr. Pancake: Well, folks, I'm in a bit of a rush, so that concludes our debate. I wish you the best of luck, Flatville.
Yes, these are very percarious times. As you all know, our little town rests in a valley between two enormous, towering peaks. As you also know, atop each peak rests a boulder large enough to flatten every building in town.
In fact, if you look directly behind me, then bring your head back to about a 45 degree angle you can see the first of these boulders. See? Now, if you turn around 180 degrees, without lowering your head, you can see the second. See? Each of these boulders teeters on a tiny pedestal. We know that an event as unpredictable as a thunderstorm could send either rampaging down the slope directly into your living rooms. Yes, this is very, very bad news. Okay, folks, you can turn back around now.
The boulder behind me, if it fell, would careen off the west slope and decimate the north half of town. The boulder behind you, if it fell, would be sent on a path directly through the south half of town. Our geologists have reported that, if one were to fall, it would strike the opposite mountain hard enough to send the other boulder down the far side and away from town.
So, the good news is, we can save one half of town. And more good news, we have two candidates fighting for you in this year's mayoral race:
- Mr. North represents the folks from the north half of town.
- Mr. South represents the folks from the south part of town.
Will Mr. South defend his position? Will he convince Flatville that the boulder behind him must not fall?
Will Mr. North defend his position? Will he convince Flatville that the boulder behind you must not fall?
Well, let's see what they have to say for themselves. Welcome candidates, to the final Flatville mayoral debate!
Mr. South: Thank you, Mr. Pancake, for the fine introduction. It's wonderful to be here in this great valley of ours. The greatest valley in the world!
Mr. North: Yes, I'd like to thank Mr. Pancake as well, and congratulate you all for being such compassionate, hard-working people. You are all just great.
Mr. Pancake: Okay, let's get right to it. Mr. South, why must the boulder behind you stay where it is?
Mr. South: Well, I'd like to first ask the folks of Flatville to do me a little favor. Ladies and gentlemen, please turn around for a moment and tilt your head back at a 45 degree angle again. Take a look. Do you see what I see? Do you see the the sun glimmer off of its polished golden surface? Do you see the ornate illustrations of kittens etched into the side? My fellow Flatvillians, I don't see a giant, dangerous boulder at all. No, what I see is a work of art. Now, I know what you're all thinking. Many folks, including my opponent, have told you that this "boulder" is a menace. Well, I admit that it very well may be. Nonetheless, by the end of my campaign you will wonder how you could ever have imagined such a thing. I'm not asking you to believe all that glitters is gold. Far from it. All I ask you is to consider the possibility that this particular object, this shiny sphere adorned with cute kittens, is something less than a menace. Let's put it this way. You know, maybe I'll just ask a very simple question. You can turn back around now. Alright, I am going to ask you a very simple question: Do you really think something so irresistibly adorable as playful kittens could be capable of mass destruction?
Mr. Pancake: But what about the boulder behind you, Mr. South? I think we can all agree both boulders are very dangerous. I want you to discuss how important it is that the boulder behind you stay put.
Mr. South: Well, I admit I fear either boulder falling, but let's focus on the benefits rather than such a bleak disaster.
Mr. Pankcake: Okay, I guess...Mr. North, what about you. Why should the boulder in front of you not fall?
Mr. North: Friends, those may look like innocent kittens now, but they will look like bloodthirsty kittens of death as they claw your houses into splinters. How dare you attempt to convince us otherwise, Mr. South? Flatvillian's know that 100 million metric tons moving at several hundred miles an hour is indeed capable of mass destruction. As such, Mr. South's precious kittens must be forced permanently off the back of that mountain. Yes, I am afraid we must eliminate the misleading golden boulder. It's irresistible whiskers must never be seen again.
Mr. Pancake: And how do you propose to remove the golden boulder?
Mr. North: We must put Flatville first. Yes, times will be tough for some, especially for the south half of town, but that is the price of freedom...security from nefarious kittens. Here is my plan: We will secure our town by releasing the boulder behind me. It will roll down the mountain and smash the other side. The shock will be so great that the boulder of evil will fall off the other side, never to be seen again! Yes, my friends, this rock may look ugly and dangerous, but it is our best weapon agains the scourge of those deceptive golden kittens. Some sacrafices will be required. We must have resolve. We must fight for a kitten-free Flatville.
Mr. South: Now, my opponent doesn't seem to have trouble speaking so harshly of these innocent little creatures. Look. We all know that times will be tough for many Flatvillians, and we agree that freedom does have a price. But, my opponent says that this price is the elimination of fuzziness; that we must watch that delightful golden sphere fall off the back side of the mountai0n never to be seen again. I don't know about you, but to me, this seems rather disturbing. Just look at it, ladies and gentlemen. Beautiful. Stunning even...Folks, we can do better. And I will tell you how: by believing those golden kittens are safe, cuddly, and good for Flatville. I'm going to be completely honest with you. What I ask for is nothing short of incredible. Yes, some say impossible. I ask you to join me in believing something wonderful...not true, but wonderful...that the boulder behind you is not dangerous. Now, my voice is soothing, ladies and gentlemen. Isn't it comforting? It is. Now, let's talk about honesty. As a consequence of my eloquence, many of you will believe absolutely anything I say, no matter how absurd. This is true. Those of you screaming and fainting...thank you. You prove my point. Now, can the rest of you join me in believing this lie? Yes you can. If you do, it is no longer a lie. We can bring down the golden boulder. Yes we can.
Mr. Pancake: Mr. South, if we follow your agenda, and bring down the golden boulder, some scientists report the schock will prompt the granite boulder to fall too, eliminating the remainder of Flatville. Do you support the destruction of both the north and south half of town in return for the arrival of that golden boulder?
Mr. South: Well, some scientists say that my opponent's granite boulder would knock the golden boulder towards Flatville as well. That is a risk we all share in either case. Some say it is an inevitability. But, why speculate when we can act...when we can start imagining my mayoral tenure. We should ask ourselves...if we are going to have both boulders anyway, shouldn't we be absolutely sure to get the gold one with kittens? In fact, and maybe I'm getting a little crazy here, but what if the granite boulder fell and then pushed that gorgeous golden sphere of the other side forever. Imagine it disappearing from view. That would be the worst of both worlds, wouldn't it? See how I am tricking you? See how the people cheer anyway? Oh, this is so fun.
Mr. North: Mr. South, you have just proposed the total destruction of Flatville to cheering crowds. I am afraid my debating skills cannot compete with that.
Mr. Pancake: Do either of you have any proposals that would save us from both boulders?
Mr North: Mr. Pancake, that is not the issue. One boulder must fall.
Mr. South: This is a subject where my opponent and I agree completely. One absolutely must fall. At least one.
Mr. Pancake: But historically, populations have pushed both boulders in the opposite direction, saving both halves of town. Why can't we work together to eliminate both threats?
Mr. South: [Cutting off Mr. North]. Let me take this one. I'm afraid we don't live in the 18th century any more. We live in a global economy. We have computers, cars, and central air. We have nitrogen widgets in beer cans. We simply can't accept the preposterous notion that today's complex society can be planned by profiteers. People need direction. They can't be asked to make these delicate decisions for themselves. Look, when folks get a paycheck, they make a profit. Right now they can use that money for anything they please, even things that do not have anything to do with boulders. Flatville knows that their paychecks must all go directly to the public good...directly to me. And, I will do what's best for Flatville: BRING DOWN THAT GOLDEN BOULDER.
Mr. North: My opponent is correct in some ways. We live in complex times. And, I'd like to believe my opponent is completely correct, but he is not. Some people simply cannot be fooled into thinking the public good is more important than their own family and community. Here is what I propose: Let's pretend people can keep their paychecks, but actually take their prosperity from them by taxing companies and income. Then, when we have stolen all of their wealth, we BRING DOWN THE GRANITE BOULDER AND END DECEPTIVE KITTENS FOREVER.
Mr. Pancake: So, both of you basically propose the transfer of wealth from the people into the hands of your own administration in order to do what's best for the public?
Both candidates: Yes.
Mr. Pancake: And, the only difference is that you, Mr. South, want people to know you are taking their money, and you, Mr. North, want to pretend that you are not taking their money but take it nonetheless.
Both candidates: Yes.
Mr. Pancake: And both of you believe the public good is the same as launching one of these giant boulders into Flatville?
Both candidates: It is.
Mr. South: Well, I for one think this would be a very good time to reach across the aisle. Perhaps we should work together on this one. Mr. North, do you live in either the north or south side of town?
Mr. North: Of course not, I live on that mountain way upriver.
Mr. South: Me too. Let's push both boulders into town at the same time. Flatville will need us more than ever then. What do you say?
Mr. North: Sounds fun. Count me in. I'm afraid you're right, Mr. South. I will never be able to convince the people of Flatville how deadly those kittens are unless they see for themselves. You almost even convinced me there for a second.
Mr Pancake: So, you both just agreed to bring down both boulders?
Mr South: That's right, Mr. Pancake, we have just made an agreement. Please put us on the same ticket, Flatville. Remember, divided we fail! What collaboration. What a great unification. You should all be proud of yourselves for picking two candidates with so much in common. What a delightful turn of events.
Mr. North: I'd also like to congratulate the people of Flatville for their resolve and courage during these trying times. Now I've gotta run. Good night.
Mr. Pancake: Well, folks, I'm in a bit of a rush, so that concludes our debate. I wish you the best of luck, Flatville.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Rescue Plan
Oh holy one, they say you have all the answers. Can I ask you a question?
Sure thing. What's up?
Will I go to heaven?
Is that what you want?
Yes. I believe it is.
If I said you have a place in heaven immediately, would you allow me to kill you so you could go there?
Um, well...
After all, this life is meaningless compared to the afterlife...
Yes, well...
And your weak body is certainly useless there, more so than it is here...
But, but, I have work to do yet on earth, Father.
Says who? Do you know this? Or, are you afraid of the physical pain of death?
I do know...I just know. I think.
Yes, you think death is painful...tell you what, I've got some morphine. It will be painless. I'll give you a couple shots and you will wake up in heaven. What do you say?
Oh. Well, Father. Thank you for the offer. I just...
I've got the syringes in this case right here. Give me your arm...
But, my girlfriend, she wouldn't approve of all this...
Oh? Your girlfriend opposes your righteous place in heaven? Oh, that is very bad.
No, she would approve of my place in heaven. It's just that, well, you know...not yet.
Not yet? Why not? Every minute that goes by is another minute teetering on that tightrope. Why allow Satan one extra moment to drag you to the furnace of Hell? Any girlfriend that would approve of such a thing is no friend of yours. I will save you from an eternity of roasting, but I must do it now. Give me your arm.
Do you want to go to Heaven, Father?
Me? Of course.
Why haven't you taken a morphine overdose?
If I had, I would't be here to save your soul. It's all part of God's plan, you see...
Oh, I see. So, what if I become ordained and offer others the chance to go to heaven? Can I live then?
No. You need to be able to identify the ones who are destined for heaven. You wouldn't want to be responsible for sending a bloke to Hell before his time, would you?
Well, I guess not. How do you do it? How do you know for sure that I'm ready for heaven?
It is a gift from God, of course. But there is only one way for me to be absolutely sure that you will indeed go to heaven.
Oooh. What's that?
If you take the shots.
Oh.
If you do not, there is a very good chance you will burn. There is not a moment to lose.
Tell me, Father, why did God create man with such curiosity only to discover that he should kill himself as soon as possible?
How dare you question the motives and nature of the Almighty.
If He created us in his own image, why hasn't He snuffed it yet?
He is God. Give me your arm. There is no time to lose.
Why would He give us such profound love for life, Father, only to demand that we voluntarily destroy it?
It is the most true test, my son, and you are failing.
Why would he create us with enough intelligence to fight disease, purify water, feed the hungry?
He is merciful. That is why he gave us the intelligence to develop morphine.
But I would rather live. If God was alive, which you say he is, wouldn't he rather live as well? Own image, right?
God is not a man. He is God. Do not question his ways. You are slipping, my boy. You are being consumed by the flames of Hell. God did not give us intelligence so that we might indulge in worldly pleasures or explore the stars or even cure disease. He gave us intelligence so that we can discover our destiny...to die, and to do so honorably.
So, in church, why do you ask us pray for people to live? To be cured of disease? To live long and healthy lives?
Because I know that they do not have the capacity to understand, my boy. I have this knowledge, and you can have it to, if you only accept the truth and give me your arm.
Just one more question: What if I believe my destiny is to reject your nonsense and use my intelligence instead to prevent you from killing other children.
Then your flesh will char eternally in Hell's most blistering regions.
Well, I guess I'll have take my chances in Hell, then.
I'll see you there.
Sure thing. What's up?
Will I go to heaven?
Is that what you want?
Yes. I believe it is.
If I said you have a place in heaven immediately, would you allow me to kill you so you could go there?
Um, well...
After all, this life is meaningless compared to the afterlife...
Yes, well...
And your weak body is certainly useless there, more so than it is here...
But, but, I have work to do yet on earth, Father.
Says who? Do you know this? Or, are you afraid of the physical pain of death?
I do know...I just know. I think.
Yes, you think death is painful...tell you what, I've got some morphine. It will be painless. I'll give you a couple shots and you will wake up in heaven. What do you say?
Oh. Well, Father. Thank you for the offer. I just...
I've got the syringes in this case right here. Give me your arm...
But, my girlfriend, she wouldn't approve of all this...
Oh? Your girlfriend opposes your righteous place in heaven? Oh, that is very bad.
No, she would approve of my place in heaven. It's just that, well, you know...not yet.
Not yet? Why not? Every minute that goes by is another minute teetering on that tightrope. Why allow Satan one extra moment to drag you to the furnace of Hell? Any girlfriend that would approve of such a thing is no friend of yours. I will save you from an eternity of roasting, but I must do it now. Give me your arm.
Do you want to go to Heaven, Father?
Me? Of course.
Why haven't you taken a morphine overdose?
If I had, I would't be here to save your soul. It's all part of God's plan, you see...
Oh, I see. So, what if I become ordained and offer others the chance to go to heaven? Can I live then?
No. You need to be able to identify the ones who are destined for heaven. You wouldn't want to be responsible for sending a bloke to Hell before his time, would you?
Well, I guess not. How do you do it? How do you know for sure that I'm ready for heaven?
It is a gift from God, of course. But there is only one way for me to be absolutely sure that you will indeed go to heaven.
Oooh. What's that?
If you take the shots.
Oh.
If you do not, there is a very good chance you will burn. There is not a moment to lose.
Tell me, Father, why did God create man with such curiosity only to discover that he should kill himself as soon as possible?
How dare you question the motives and nature of the Almighty.
If He created us in his own image, why hasn't He snuffed it yet?
He is God. Give me your arm. There is no time to lose.
Why would He give us such profound love for life, Father, only to demand that we voluntarily destroy it?
It is the most true test, my son, and you are failing.
Why would he create us with enough intelligence to fight disease, purify water, feed the hungry?
He is merciful. That is why he gave us the intelligence to develop morphine.
But I would rather live. If God was alive, which you say he is, wouldn't he rather live as well? Own image, right?
God is not a man. He is God. Do not question his ways. You are slipping, my boy. You are being consumed by the flames of Hell. God did not give us intelligence so that we might indulge in worldly pleasures or explore the stars or even cure disease. He gave us intelligence so that we can discover our destiny...to die, and to do so honorably.
So, in church, why do you ask us pray for people to live? To be cured of disease? To live long and healthy lives?
Because I know that they do not have the capacity to understand, my boy. I have this knowledge, and you can have it to, if you only accept the truth and give me your arm.
Just one more question: What if I believe my destiny is to reject your nonsense and use my intelligence instead to prevent you from killing other children.
Then your flesh will char eternally in Hell's most blistering regions.
Well, I guess I'll have take my chances in Hell, then.
I'll see you there.
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Ride
Peter walked down the wharf one beautiful Tuesday afternoon. On this day the breeze was gentle, the sea was a vibrant blue, and the clouds were bright white, some puffy. It was an excellent day for sailing.
In his left hand he held Susan's, and they marveled at the boats docked against the wooden boardwalk. Some were small with a single sail. Others were catamarans. Still others were enormous with cabins and sprawling decks. Susan's imagination got the best of her...
"Ya know Peter, let's sail away. Wanna sail with me?"
Peter smiled and looked up at the most puffy cloud. They continued to walk, enjoying the flocks of seagulls and the sound of waves which lapped against the breakwater.
They turned to walk down a long pier. Susan held an ice cream cone. It was black raspberry. Peter had a bite and decided it was the best sample of ice cream he had ever tasted. It was turning out to be an fine day.
Peter saw a middle aged man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt tying up his large sailboat. It was a Ranger, and reminded him of the one he had learned to sail years ago when he was in high school. Peter never talked about his experience sailing. Those trips were years ago with his uncle Eddie, who had some unfortunate habits. So unfortunate, in fact, the judge denied any possibility of parole.
But Peter was fond of Eddie, despite his flaws. Before the military raided his boat, Eddie had an endless supply of stories to share with Peter. Out among the whitecaps Eddie would explain how easy drug trafficking was for a well-spoken corporate executive. He would describe his most extravagant plots, the offshore accounts, the fraud, the tax evasion schemes. He trusted Peter, especially over a bottle or two of Canadian whiskey. He always said: "lie big enough, and no one can stop you."
Peter learned a lot about the folks at the yacht club while he held that large wooden wheel. He learned quite a lot indeed. He thought about Susan's comment and then remembered a conversation he once had with Eddie...
Peter told Susan to wait for him on a bench at the end of the pier while he approached the man in the Hawaiian shirt.
"A nice breeze today, wouldn't you say?"
"I certainly would, young man, now what can I do for you?"
His wife and three children walked out of the boat and smacked inflatable objects against each other's heads while they scurried back to the parking lot.
"Well, sir, I was just admiring your boat. It's a nice rig. I sailed one just like it years ago."
"That so?"
Peter continued to describe details about sailing this particular boat. He was surprised himself to discover how much he remembered. They had a cordial chat about mast height. Peter got back on task...
"So, mind if I take this one out for a spin this afternoon?"
"What was your name? Peter? I'm sorry Peter, I don't loan the boat to strangers."
"Well, we aren't strangers any more. You know I can sail it. What do you say?"
"Sorry mate, start saving and one day you might be able to afford one of these all for yourself. Until then, I suggest you go have some more ice cream."
"Well, mate, I don't mean to be rude, but this boat is simply begging to be sailed this afternoon. Let's make a deal...I take the boat, and your wife stays completely oblivious."
"Oblivious?"
"Completely."
The man paused and looked down at Peter from the bow. Peter looked back with a casual grin. He walked down the stairs and onto the pier, looking at Peter sternly.
"So, you'll tell my wife about my affair unless I lend you the boat?"
"That's right."
"Hm, that sounds like a pretty good deal."
"You won't regret it."
"Peter, like I said, just start saving. You're a good kid. See you around."
The man tipped his hat and walked back toward the parking lot.
Peter walked back to Susan and had another bite of ice cream. They held hands and walked along the pier having the most enjoyable time.
Such things sounded so easy when Eddie described them. Peter decided the ride might not have been all he expected anyway.
In his left hand he held Susan's, and they marveled at the boats docked against the wooden boardwalk. Some were small with a single sail. Others were catamarans. Still others were enormous with cabins and sprawling decks. Susan's imagination got the best of her...
"Ya know Peter, let's sail away. Wanna sail with me?"
Peter smiled and looked up at the most puffy cloud. They continued to walk, enjoying the flocks of seagulls and the sound of waves which lapped against the breakwater.
They turned to walk down a long pier. Susan held an ice cream cone. It was black raspberry. Peter had a bite and decided it was the best sample of ice cream he had ever tasted. It was turning out to be an fine day.
Peter saw a middle aged man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt tying up his large sailboat. It was a Ranger, and reminded him of the one he had learned to sail years ago when he was in high school. Peter never talked about his experience sailing. Those trips were years ago with his uncle Eddie, who had some unfortunate habits. So unfortunate, in fact, the judge denied any possibility of parole.
But Peter was fond of Eddie, despite his flaws. Before the military raided his boat, Eddie had an endless supply of stories to share with Peter. Out among the whitecaps Eddie would explain how easy drug trafficking was for a well-spoken corporate executive. He would describe his most extravagant plots, the offshore accounts, the fraud, the tax evasion schemes. He trusted Peter, especially over a bottle or two of Canadian whiskey. He always said: "lie big enough, and no one can stop you."
Peter learned a lot about the folks at the yacht club while he held that large wooden wheel. He learned quite a lot indeed. He thought about Susan's comment and then remembered a conversation he once had with Eddie...
Peter told Susan to wait for him on a bench at the end of the pier while he approached the man in the Hawaiian shirt.
"A nice breeze today, wouldn't you say?"
"I certainly would, young man, now what can I do for you?"
His wife and three children walked out of the boat and smacked inflatable objects against each other's heads while they scurried back to the parking lot.
"Well, sir, I was just admiring your boat. It's a nice rig. I sailed one just like it years ago."
"That so?"
Peter continued to describe details about sailing this particular boat. He was surprised himself to discover how much he remembered. They had a cordial chat about mast height. Peter got back on task...
"So, mind if I take this one out for a spin this afternoon?"
"What was your name? Peter? I'm sorry Peter, I don't loan the boat to strangers."
"Well, we aren't strangers any more. You know I can sail it. What do you say?"
"Sorry mate, start saving and one day you might be able to afford one of these all for yourself. Until then, I suggest you go have some more ice cream."
"Well, mate, I don't mean to be rude, but this boat is simply begging to be sailed this afternoon. Let's make a deal...I take the boat, and your wife stays completely oblivious."
"Oblivious?"
"Completely."
The man paused and looked down at Peter from the bow. Peter looked back with a casual grin. He walked down the stairs and onto the pier, looking at Peter sternly.
"So, you'll tell my wife about my affair unless I lend you the boat?"
"That's right."
"Hm, that sounds like a pretty good deal."
"You won't regret it."
"Peter, like I said, just start saving. You're a good kid. See you around."
The man tipped his hat and walked back toward the parking lot.
Peter walked back to Susan and had another bite of ice cream. They held hands and walked along the pier having the most enjoyable time.
Such things sounded so easy when Eddie described them. Peter decided the ride might not have been all he expected anyway.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Mrs. Bastian's Appeal
"I'm terribly sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but the vote absolutely must be unanimous. We have one dissenter. Would the individual who opposes the exhumation of Mr. Bastian please approach the bench."
A woman in the back slowly stood and walked towards the front of the courtroom. All eyes followed her as she approached the judge.
"Mrs. Bastian. Would you please tell us why you oppose the motion to exhume your husband? Please remember that everyone in this room approved your exhumation. Many assumed your husband would easily follow. Please explain..."
She wiped her eyes and turned slowly to face the crowd. She was a petite woman with brown hair and glasses. Over the past month she had regressed from her 70's to her mid-40s, taking well to the therapy. She paused for several moments. She took off her glasses and began to speak...
"Your honor, friends, family, loved ones...I must say...I am deeply, deeply moved by your decision to exhume me. I never imagined living in such a time and under such...well, unexpected conditions. I could never have expected. I was filled with joy to meet my great, great grandchildren for the first time. So many of them! Reuniting with each and every one of you has been wonderful. I have only begun learning how to live again. I love you all so much..."
A voice erupted from the front row..."We love you too, Mom!" Others shouted similar sentiments with various titles..."grandma," "Betsy," "Mrs. Bastian."
She smiled. Then slowly brought her hands over her face. She choked back tears and then seemed to sob, turning toward the judge...
"Mrs. Bastian, we can call a recess if you'd like."
She paused for a moment, collecting herself...
"No, your honor. I can do this now."
She continued...
"But today, I regret to tell you that you are all making a terrible, terrible mistake."
The crowd gasped collectively, then chatter filled the room. A gavel struck several times to quell the commotion...
"You are all right. My husband loved me until the day he died. Indeed, he loved all of you too. He was a good man by every estimation. But, I'm sorry, I cannot accept his exhumation."
The room exploded in a cacophony of inquiry. No one expected this.
A man in a suit stood and addressed the court...
"But Mrs. Bastian, we have been counting on your husband's skills to rebuild. He was a great architect. He was a respected member of the community and a competent businessman. No one who knew him has shown the slightest disagreement with Mr. Darbin's exhumation request. Indeed, he is a necessary part of our restoration plans. We don't know what we will do without him. Please tell us what could possibly prevent you from insisting life be restored to your husband."
"Robert, I thank you for your confidence in my husband. And might I say, you have grown up to be a dapper young gentleman. He was all you say and more. He was the kindest, gentlest, loving individual I have ever known, and I thank Mr. Darbin for making the motion. I do approve of the technology, and encourage its use. But, for very personal reasons, I must insist you leave my husband in the grave."
The judge quickly spoke..."Mrs. Bastian, we acknowledge your intimate relationship with your husband, and the things that only you could know, but you must explain to the jury your reasons."
"Alright, your honor, if you must know, I am not in love with my husband. I have never loved him."
The courtroom was silent.
"You see, my poor husband was madly in love with me. Smitten. Oh, he wouldn't miss an opportunity to remind me. For decades I alone was the reason he woke up every morning, the reason he went to work. He loved nothing more than my smile, my happiness, my grace and charm. Yes, he was a shameless and hopeless romantic. Being the sweet gentleman he was, I'm sorry, but I simply could not bring myself to break his heart...not in our 20s, 40s, 60s, or 70s. He would tell me things like I was the light of his life. What terrible woman takes the single joy out of this man's life? I'm sorry. I do not have the heart for such cruelty. I simply could not live with myself knowing I had done such an awful thing. If you allow this exhumation to proceed, I will be forced to brutally shatter his heart. Then he will be crushed. Crushed completely, utterly, and eternally. His soul with wither into a haze of sorrow, a life of scarce and fleeting happiness. I'm sorry, but I cannot approve this dreadful scenario. For his own sake, please leave my dear husband in the grave."
The courtroom was silent.
Through the silence a young woman stifled a chuckle. It could almost pass for a sneeze.
Just then, several more women could not restrain themselves, and pressed their hands against their mouths.
Within moments the rest of the courtroom erupted into uproarious, hysterical laughter.
Mrs. Bastian glanced at the judge through the corner of her eye. She walked confidently and seriously toward the back of the courtroom. A gavel struck the bench and the judge bellowed:
"We appreciate your appeal, Mrs. Bastian, but I'm afraid your request is unequivocally denied. The exhumation of Mr. Bastian will begin immediately."
A woman in the back slowly stood and walked towards the front of the courtroom. All eyes followed her as she approached the judge.
"Mrs. Bastian. Would you please tell us why you oppose the motion to exhume your husband? Please remember that everyone in this room approved your exhumation. Many assumed your husband would easily follow. Please explain..."
She wiped her eyes and turned slowly to face the crowd. She was a petite woman with brown hair and glasses. Over the past month she had regressed from her 70's to her mid-40s, taking well to the therapy. She paused for several moments. She took off her glasses and began to speak...
"Your honor, friends, family, loved ones...I must say...I am deeply, deeply moved by your decision to exhume me. I never imagined living in such a time and under such...well, unexpected conditions. I could never have expected. I was filled with joy to meet my great, great grandchildren for the first time. So many of them! Reuniting with each and every one of you has been wonderful. I have only begun learning how to live again. I love you all so much..."
A voice erupted from the front row..."We love you too, Mom!" Others shouted similar sentiments with various titles..."grandma," "Betsy," "Mrs. Bastian."
She smiled. Then slowly brought her hands over her face. She choked back tears and then seemed to sob, turning toward the judge...
"Mrs. Bastian, we can call a recess if you'd like."
She paused for a moment, collecting herself...
"No, your honor. I can do this now."
She continued...
"But today, I regret to tell you that you are all making a terrible, terrible mistake."
The crowd gasped collectively, then chatter filled the room. A gavel struck several times to quell the commotion...
"You are all right. My husband loved me until the day he died. Indeed, he loved all of you too. He was a good man by every estimation. But, I'm sorry, I cannot accept his exhumation."
The room exploded in a cacophony of inquiry. No one expected this.
A man in a suit stood and addressed the court...
"But Mrs. Bastian, we have been counting on your husband's skills to rebuild. He was a great architect. He was a respected member of the community and a competent businessman. No one who knew him has shown the slightest disagreement with Mr. Darbin's exhumation request. Indeed, he is a necessary part of our restoration plans. We don't know what we will do without him. Please tell us what could possibly prevent you from insisting life be restored to your husband."
"Robert, I thank you for your confidence in my husband. And might I say, you have grown up to be a dapper young gentleman. He was all you say and more. He was the kindest, gentlest, loving individual I have ever known, and I thank Mr. Darbin for making the motion. I do approve of the technology, and encourage its use. But, for very personal reasons, I must insist you leave my husband in the grave."
The judge quickly spoke..."Mrs. Bastian, we acknowledge your intimate relationship with your husband, and the things that only you could know, but you must explain to the jury your reasons."
"Alright, your honor, if you must know, I am not in love with my husband. I have never loved him."
The courtroom was silent.
"You see, my poor husband was madly in love with me. Smitten. Oh, he wouldn't miss an opportunity to remind me. For decades I alone was the reason he woke up every morning, the reason he went to work. He loved nothing more than my smile, my happiness, my grace and charm. Yes, he was a shameless and hopeless romantic. Being the sweet gentleman he was, I'm sorry, but I simply could not bring myself to break his heart...not in our 20s, 40s, 60s, or 70s. He would tell me things like I was the light of his life. What terrible woman takes the single joy out of this man's life? I'm sorry. I do not have the heart for such cruelty. I simply could not live with myself knowing I had done such an awful thing. If you allow this exhumation to proceed, I will be forced to brutally shatter his heart. Then he will be crushed. Crushed completely, utterly, and eternally. His soul with wither into a haze of sorrow, a life of scarce and fleeting happiness. I'm sorry, but I cannot approve this dreadful scenario. For his own sake, please leave my dear husband in the grave."
The courtroom was silent.
Through the silence a young woman stifled a chuckle. It could almost pass for a sneeze.
Just then, several more women could not restrain themselves, and pressed their hands against their mouths.
Within moments the rest of the courtroom erupted into uproarious, hysterical laughter.
Mrs. Bastian glanced at the judge through the corner of her eye. She walked confidently and seriously toward the back of the courtroom. A gavel struck the bench and the judge bellowed:
"We appreciate your appeal, Mrs. Bastian, but I'm afraid your request is unequivocally denied. The exhumation of Mr. Bastian will begin immediately."
The Pledge
Mr. Smith was 25 years old. He had a decent job, a wife, and a child on the way. It was 3:30 in the morning and he sat at his kitchen table with a pen in hand. He re-read the agreement in front of him...
=================
I, __________ acknowledge that the federal government is depriving me of my prosperity through the Social Security System. I recognize that they withdraw over 12.4% of my income to supplement retirement income of the elderly. I know that although only 6.2% of my salary is withdrawn from my paycheck, my employer is required to pay me 6.2% less than he/she otherwise would because the government confiscates this percentage through payroll taxes on my behalf. My employer is in agreement with this assessment.
Employer: City of Brendwood Signed___________________
I recognize current Social Security beneficiaries also bore the burden I am bearing now, and with a long life, they might have the opportunity to recover their own belated, though well-deserved, rewards. I also understand that many fewer of the elderly would require Social Security had they been able to take ownership of these earnings earlier in life. I understand that my condition at retirement will be less prosperous because it is more dependent on Social Security. I know this because 12.4 of my life's earnings were preemptively confiscated by the government in the assumption that I was not capable of preparing for my later years, which I believe to be a false assumption.
As an unwilling participant of the Social Security system, I admonish those who have perpetuated the pillaging of America's youth for their own security, and especially those for whom this income is disposable. I do not care to partake in the plundering of my children and grandchildren. As such, I pledge the following:
On my honor, I promise to return 100% of my Social Security income to the Citizen's Retribution Fund.* I also promise that, until retirement, I will continue to pay my 12.4% willfully, with the understanding that this sacrifice is the necessary moral obligation thrust upon us by our forefathers. I pledge to take action to ensure future generations will not be required to endure this sacrifice.
Signed_____________________Date______________________
* The Citizen's Retribution Fund is a private fund that distributes all voluntary contributions evenly to every Social Security payee.
=================
Mr. Smith signed, placed the letter in an envelope and dropped it in the mail. Then he put on his boots and walked out the door. There was at least a foot of accumulation, white, wet, and thick. It would be a long day at the office.
=================
I, __________ acknowledge that the federal government is depriving me of my prosperity through the Social Security System. I recognize that they withdraw over 12.4% of my income to supplement retirement income of the elderly. I know that although only 6.2% of my salary is withdrawn from my paycheck, my employer is required to pay me 6.2% less than he/she otherwise would because the government confiscates this percentage through payroll taxes on my behalf. My employer is in agreement with this assessment.
Employer: City of Brendwood Signed___________________
I recognize current Social Security beneficiaries also bore the burden I am bearing now, and with a long life, they might have the opportunity to recover their own belated, though well-deserved, rewards. I also understand that many fewer of the elderly would require Social Security had they been able to take ownership of these earnings earlier in life. I understand that my condition at retirement will be less prosperous because it is more dependent on Social Security. I know this because 12.4 of my life's earnings were preemptively confiscated by the government in the assumption that I was not capable of preparing for my later years, which I believe to be a false assumption.
As an unwilling participant of the Social Security system, I admonish those who have perpetuated the pillaging of America's youth for their own security, and especially those for whom this income is disposable. I do not care to partake in the plundering of my children and grandchildren. As such, I pledge the following:
On my honor, I promise to return 100% of my Social Security income to the Citizen's Retribution Fund.* I also promise that, until retirement, I will continue to pay my 12.4% willfully, with the understanding that this sacrifice is the necessary moral obligation thrust upon us by our forefathers. I pledge to take action to ensure future generations will not be required to endure this sacrifice.
Signed_____________________Date______________________
* The Citizen's Retribution Fund is a private fund that distributes all voluntary contributions evenly to every Social Security payee.
=================
Mr. Smith signed, placed the letter in an envelope and dropped it in the mail. Then he put on his boots and walked out the door. There was at least a foot of accumulation, white, wet, and thick. It would be a long day at the office.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The Trip to Myrth
Bob, come here, you need to see this...
Nice. H2O....
No this...
Holy shit...
That's right, on the surface...
Liquid, most of it...
Atmosphere?
Nitrogen, methane, CO2...
Total mass, density?
Sorta like Venus...
Looks like a winner...
What should we call it?
How bout Myrth?
Works for me. How far?
3000 light years...
Looks like the one. Let's get started...
Right now?
Sure.
Didn't you hear what I said?
Right, 3000 light years. It's in range. We anticipated as much. Multi-generational voyage. We'll condition DNA along the way in the lab...modify the atmosphere gradually...
Modify the atmosphere?
On the ship. You can't start breathing methane cold turkey.
Breath methane?
For starters. Looks like we'll need some strong jaws and a more robust digestive system. We should have room for it. At three times the pressure we can skimp on lungs a bit.
Skimp on lungs?
The food will be fibrous, tree bark probably. Engineering has been working on it. Vegetation needs to be hardy with low access to soil nutrients. We have one fruit so far. It converts CO2 to Ozone...not ready for prime time.
Breath methane, eat bark? Ready for prime time?
That's right, we'll need to nudge nature a bit. We'll introduce gene therapy as the ship's atmosphere gradually adjusts to mimic Myrth's. We'll choose a moderate elevation when it's time to pick nits. Oh, and we're looking into some Koala genes. They have some mighty fine chompers for this sort of thing.
Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?
No time. This planet's a hot potato. If we can't find a spot with palm trees and pineapples I'm afraid we're going to have to learn how to breath methane and digest tree bark...
Can a human body run on methane?
Body? Body's secondary. We need brain fuel. Can methane work? We'll find out. After that we are stuck with the bare minimum...we'll need to find, extract, masticate tree bark, mate. You know, the basics...
Will it be human?
Oh yes, human for sure. Fully capable of learning, language, abstraction, adaptation, empathy, love, all those good things. We anticipate six legs and a rigid exoskeleton with multiple antennae - needs feelers. We hope no more than twelve eyes will be necessary given the hazy conditions and possible predators.
Predators?
Possible. We have no way of knowing. We'll direct a comet into Myrth a few hundred-thousand years before habitation to ensure the really mean ones are killed off.
Killed off?
You know, like the dinosaurs. No choice unless you want to be some Triceratop's breakfast. We're shooting for top of the food chain, here. If we can't make it, well, we'll get as high as we can, ya know.
Top of the food chain. Good. Can't we add spines or something?
Nope. Very limited resources. We'll spare no expense for neuron space. Big brain = top of food chain. All extra tissue spent on those dozen eyes.
What about the ship? We're talking about a prison for, what, 6000 years?
Peanuts.
Easy for you to say, Mr. lab rat. You volunteer.
This one's carried us longer than that. I'm already on the list.
Nice. H2O....
No this...
Holy shit...
That's right, on the surface...
Liquid, most of it...
Atmosphere?
Nitrogen, methane, CO2...
Total mass, density?
Sorta like Venus...
Looks like a winner...
What should we call it?
How bout Myrth?
Works for me. How far?
3000 light years...
Looks like the one. Let's get started...
Right now?
Sure.
Didn't you hear what I said?
Right, 3000 light years. It's in range. We anticipated as much. Multi-generational voyage. We'll condition DNA along the way in the lab...modify the atmosphere gradually...
Modify the atmosphere?
On the ship. You can't start breathing methane cold turkey.
Breath methane?
For starters. Looks like we'll need some strong jaws and a more robust digestive system. We should have room for it. At three times the pressure we can skimp on lungs a bit.
Skimp on lungs?
The food will be fibrous, tree bark probably. Engineering has been working on it. Vegetation needs to be hardy with low access to soil nutrients. We have one fruit so far. It converts CO2 to Ozone...not ready for prime time.
Breath methane, eat bark? Ready for prime time?
That's right, we'll need to nudge nature a bit. We'll introduce gene therapy as the ship's atmosphere gradually adjusts to mimic Myrth's. We'll choose a moderate elevation when it's time to pick nits. Oh, and we're looking into some Koala genes. They have some mighty fine chompers for this sort of thing.
Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?
No time. This planet's a hot potato. If we can't find a spot with palm trees and pineapples I'm afraid we're going to have to learn how to breath methane and digest tree bark...
Can a human body run on methane?
Body? Body's secondary. We need brain fuel. Can methane work? We'll find out. After that we are stuck with the bare minimum...we'll need to find, extract, masticate tree bark, mate. You know, the basics...
Will it be human?
Oh yes, human for sure. Fully capable of learning, language, abstraction, adaptation, empathy, love, all those good things. We anticipate six legs and a rigid exoskeleton with multiple antennae - needs feelers. We hope no more than twelve eyes will be necessary given the hazy conditions and possible predators.
Predators?
Possible. We have no way of knowing. We'll direct a comet into Myrth a few hundred-thousand years before habitation to ensure the really mean ones are killed off.
Killed off?
You know, like the dinosaurs. No choice unless you want to be some Triceratop's breakfast. We're shooting for top of the food chain, here. If we can't make it, well, we'll get as high as we can, ya know.
Top of the food chain. Good. Can't we add spines or something?
Nope. Very limited resources. We'll spare no expense for neuron space. Big brain = top of food chain. All extra tissue spent on those dozen eyes.
What about the ship? We're talking about a prison for, what, 6000 years?
Peanuts.
Easy for you to say, Mr. lab rat. You volunteer.
This one's carried us longer than that. I'm already on the list.
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