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.

Triangle Republic

It was called the Triangle Republic because it sat atop an enormous triangular plateau with steep cliffs on all sides. Although the nation claimed the entire plateau, it was actually a mobile one, traveling in one giant herd from one side to the next.

At the midpoint of each of the three natural borders grew a large grove of Yang trees bearing delicious Yangs. Being their favorite food, the Trianglicans were always on a caravan towards one of these three groves. When all of the Yangs were consumed they would turn to begin their long voyage to the next side, where another Yang grove was waiting for them.

There were four types of Trianglicans

• The Mutes looked like big walking eyes. They could not hear or speak, but could see really well.
  
• The Screamers were like big walking mouths. They could not hear or see, but could scream, especially when hungry for Yangs.
• The Pushers were like big walking ears with arms. They could not see or scream, but could hear and push.
  
• The Giants were like huge, well, giants. They could not hear, see, or scream, but were tall enough to reach fruit on even the highest branches of the Yang tree.
  

The herd of Trianglicans always traveled in a straight path towards the cliff's edge. All along their arduous journey to the next edge they would survive on Yang trees they found along the way. To acquire the Yangs, individuals in the herd worked together...

The Mutes, being the only ones who could see the valuable trees, would find a Screamer and tie him to a Yang tree. Before long, the Screamer would begin screaming. Hearing this, the Pushers would push a Giant towards the tree. The Giant, upon bumping up against the trunk, would instinctively reach up and pick the Yangs to eat. While the Giant did this, some Yangs would always drop for the Mutes and Pushers to salvage. When all the ripe Yangs had been picked, the Mutes would untie the screamers, and feed them bits of Yang along the way to keep them from screaming. When the Giant was full, he resumed his walk in the same direction as the rest of the herd.

The only trait shared by all in the herd was the ability to travel in exactly the same direction.

The problems always began as the herd approached a cliff. You see, there wasn't actually a grove of Yangs there, only a sheer drop-off of several thousand feet. The Mutes, who usually traveled up front, would see the impending doom. They would look back and wonder how to change the direction of the herd. After all, the only productive Yang trees required a 300 degree left turn!

This was an unfamiliar dilemma for the Mutes. A cliff was scarcely encountered, perhaps only once every few generations.

On this particular occasion, the Mutes tried everything they could to warn the herd. They tried screaming, which resulted in a pathetic "mrrr" from their clenched eyelid. Then they tried pushing. No use. They were tiny compared to the Pushers, not to mention the Giants who got dangerously close to stepping on them. Some Mutes even decided to run around like lunatics flailing their little arms, which was least effective of all.

As the herd plodded forward the Mutes became increasingly terrified. These poor souls could not scream, push, or pick. They feared they could do nothing but watch the others drop helplessly over the side! They needed to somehow rescue their friends in the herd...and not just for their own good. The Mute's knew they would starve without them.

There was only one tiny shred of hope. They all knew that this predicament must have happened before, and the Mutes had definitely found some way out of it. They wouldn't be alive if they hadn't. But how had their predecessors done it?

Perilously close the the cliff, the Mutes decided to try something completely unheard of and very risky. They tied a Screamer to a Giant and then they tied several more to the same Giant. Then, deprived of Yang pieces, the Screamers began screaming and the Pushers began pushing the Giants toward one another. Once the Giants met, each would grasp wildly into the air. Not finding Yangs, they became angry, even furious, and became ensnared in their own limbs. Soon, over half of the Screamers, Pushers, and Giants were bound in a collective entanglement of legs, arms, mouths, and ears. Some Screamers and Pushers were crushed. But, the tangled mess effectively hindered their progress towards the cliff...if only for a while.

By this point the ominous sound of screaming could be heard off in the distance as the Screamers not tied to Giants began falling over the side. The dreadful sound was followed by a thud as the Pushers instinctively shoved the untangled Giants toward the screaming and thus over the cliff. Each Pusher would be left teetering on the edge of the cliff, then turn to find another Giant to push. Pushers had very short memories, especially with all the screaming, which had become a distracting temptation for all Pushers.

There was no warning at all for these poor Giants and the Mutes were horrified to watch. They only knew the entanglement was doing some good, and considered it their only hope while they pondered possible solutions. Time was short. They knew that soon thousands of Screamers would fall over the side greatly tempting the Pushers to shove all the Giants to their death. Disaster was imminent.

Then one Mute had an idea. Way off in the distance opposite the cliff sat a lone Yang tree that would point the herd directly toward the opposite cliff and towards decades of safety. It was so far away that most other Mutes had dismissed it. Determined, this Mute dragged as many Screamers as possible to the Yang. He tied them up, deprived them of Yang, and the screaming began. But, as the other Mutes had predicted, it was simply too far away. The Pushers with even the biggest ears couldn't hear them. Seeing this, the Mutes grew restless and jumped up and down. There was much blinking.

But this particular Mute had no time to lose. While the others jumped and blinked, he returned to the cliff's edge and diverted more doomed Screamers to the distant Yang tree. In an unheard of fashion he tied the Screamers to one another forming a long chain. Once tied, they instinctively walked toward the cliff. In this way the row stretched out a long distance toward the entanglement.

The Mutes saw this and some were encouraged. A few began to help tie the Screamers to the end of the chain. But not all were so optimistic. In fact, most of the Mutes sat and drooped their eyelids in despair. Even with the long chain, they knew the plan would fail. The entanglement was moving too fast and they knew the Pushers couldn't really hear all that well, much less identify which screamers would lead them to safety and which ones to death. They began to despair.

"Oh, how hopeless is a Mute's life." they thought. "If only we had mouths to scream or arms to push. If only we were big and strong like the Giants. If only we had one of these things, we could save all of our fellow Trianglicans. But, alas, we are all doomed to watch as they careen over the side. Oh, the horror."

Conditions deteriorated. With all the screaming, falling, crushing, and flailing going on, the Mutes felt dejected. The chain grew very close, but its screamers were drowned out by those falling off the side.

You would think that the massive amount of screaming would be a warning to the Pushers and Giants, but no. They could only think about acquiring those delicious Yangs. This shocked the Mutes who were now frantically dragging Screamers from the edge.

These conditions continued to make the Mutes very sad. So sad, in fact, that they began crying. As they dragged their Screamers to the chain, tears welled in their large eyes and fell onto the ground. At first this had a beneficial effect, moistening the dusty path. The dirty air became clean, and they were no longer required to squint as they dragged the sometimes uncooperative Screamers. But, as the dust cleared from the air the increased visibility also allowed them to easily observe the awful sight at the cliff's edge. More tears befell the path and before long the Mutes found themselves trudging through thick, slippery muck.

Navigating the terrain became a challenge. The Mutes, already top-heavy with their tiny legs, began slipping and falling all along the muddy path. One Mute would try to help another and both would topple, each losing his Screamer. Many rolled back and forth, but could not get back on their feet. So sad was this that the stream of tears became a torrent. Before long the whole area was a vast swamp with half-sunken Mutes scattered about. Those who were stuck were helpless, waving their tiny arms in the air for help. Those who watched from dry ground did not dare enter the swamp. All seemed lost.

Then, to the disbelief of all the Mutes, the head of one particularly tall Giant was spotted moving away from the cliff, in the opposite direction of all the others. All the Mutes scurried to the highest ground that they could find. Sure enough, a lone Pusher anguished beneath, straining to push this whole Giant all by himself. Squinting eyes caked in mud became wide with astonishment. Everyone knew this was impossible. Such a thing had never been done. Everyone knew it took three Pushers to even nudge a Giant. But somehow this Pusher was doing it, right in front of the Mutes' weary eyes. He seemed to be the only Pusher who could hear the distant chain of Screamers.

Seeing this the Mutes' eyes were instantly dried. They looked at each other and suddenly realized there was still hope, and serious, unpleasant work to be done. They knew they had to innovate. They frantically increased the chain of Screamers until they dangled all the way off the edge of the cliff. One after another, as expected, the Pushers pushed Giants over this one point, creating a deep rut in the earth. The rut over the edge of the cliff became a waterfall, draining the lake of tears that had accumulated. Then, the Mutes who had almost drowned stood up and joined the others. They helped pull the dangling screamers back to safety. Not one more Giant than necessary would be pushed off the side. The end of the chain was brought back and tied to a spot mid-way between the Yang and the cliff. Soon they saw two Pushers pushing another Giant away from the cliff and toward the end of the chain. It was working!

But, the remainder of the herd was nearing the cliff faster than ever. Hundreds of Screamers were plummeting over the edge. Hundreds of Giants followed shortly thereafter. Worse, the inclination to move in the same direction was so fierce that even the tangled Giants continued to amble toward the cliff, even the ones almost completely restrained among one another. The whole entanglement itself began slipping over the edge!

All the Mutes watched in horror as the enormous conglomeration began to fall over the side! The Screamers were so hungry and just couldn't help but scream. The Pushers simply couldn't resist the Screaming and pushed with all their might. The Giants were now completely helpless. It slid slowly, folding off the edge like a pancake. Giants, Screamers, and Pushers all held tightly to one another for dear life. There, hanging in mid air, they now discovered, without a doubt, that something was terribly wrong.

Having assembled and chained the last of the available Screamers, the Mutes could only watch as the bulk of their beloved herd began escaping into oblivion. There was nothing more they could do but continue starving the chain of Screamers who were now bellowing ferociously. The sight was unbearable.

Then, miraculously, the sliding began to slow down. Something stalled the momentum and now about half of the entanglement hung over the side propped by the other half. The Mutes approached to assess the situation. To their amazement, they discovered something else they had never seen before. The pushers on the ground were pushing away from the cliff! They were Pulling!

Through great effort, all of the Pushers pulled together and began lifting the entire entanglement. Slowly but surely the entirety of the weight was being pulled, lifted from the great abyss.

But, by now the Giants already hanging off the side were so frustrated that their arms flailed in a desperate panic, which began breaking apart the entanglement. Seeing this the Mutes jumped and blinked and mrrred with indignation. If only they would just be still and allow the pulling Pushers to save them. But, this was not to be. Suddenly, the half already over the edge could be pulled no further. The bond broke at the cliff's edge and the doomed Screamers screamed in unison as they plummeted into free fall. Looking over the edge, the Mutes watched the Giants' wild arms flutter in a frenzy until each met their doom against the rocks below, joined by the poor Screamers and Pushers who had been at the front half of the entanglement.

The Pushers atop the cliff could now hear the chain of Screamers loud and clear. As such, they pulled the entanglement toward the lone Yang in the distance. Once there the Mutes carefully untied the Screamers and to the surprise of all, the Giants began walking slowly in the direction opposite the cliff! Seeing this the Mutes hopped up and down, blinked happily, and celebrated with a gleeful chorus of mrrr.

Then a period of mourning followed as the herd slowly moved away from the cliff. It was a tragedy of historical proportions. As far as a warning to pass into the future, the Mutes had some paper and pencils, but none knew how to write. And, passing the story down by word of mouth was also prohibitive for obvious reasons. But, to the relief of them all, the next cliff was generations away. For now, they could resume the roles they had grown to know and love. All citizens of the Triangle Republic who survived this great tragedy lived in peaceful harmony for the rest of their lives.

Sunshine

Pete still had one eye left to see through, and he waited for the sunrise. His shackles had become loose overhead, but the blood continued to drip down over his eyebrows each time he adjusted himself. Slipping out of them would be futile, even if he could, surrounded by the dank stone chamber walls shrouded in black death. His only comfort was his cache of delirium. He spent it frugally.

His chains rattled as the first hint of light shot through the single tiny crack in the stones across from him. He winced and hung like a statue as it slowly approached. One minute, two, ten, thirty...he sensed it from the corner of his eye. It floated at an imperceptible speed across the adjacent wall. One hour, two. It glistened off the moist rock. He was helpless to prevent its approach. He recognized the absurdity, but there was no stopping it, not in this place. Closer. The irrational pangs of hope clenched tightly as he forced himself to acknowledge the absolute certainty of his fate. He would perish that evening, or perhaps during the night, but it couldn't be long now...

Through the red hue he saw the faintest outline of his emaciated torso as the spec neared. By now not even the sight of his body could remind him he was human. His breathing became shallow and measured. He reminded himself to ignore it, to restore sanity and hopelessness...sound reality. Resolved, he opened his eye to discover the strands of his hair and beard dancing in the light. It was a sight he hadn't seen for days. It fascinated him. The magical gnarled tufts crusted with dried blood were like vines over his childhood pond. He watched in desperation, trying to remind himself of the horror draped in front of him, but could not.

He backed up and ran, swinging into the wind, brushing his feet gently across the cool water. He couldn't feel his bony heels burning beneath him. He returned to the grassy bank and looked to the sky only to be blinded by the beating sun, which washed over him like a warm shower. Chills shot up his spine and he shuddered like an epileptic, grinding his sores violently against the course granite. Holding on tight he ran again, flying high and crashing forcefully into the water. Every ounce of his being tingled fiercely and uncontrollably. He basked in the brightness as long as he could, writhing in terrible bliss, wanting desperately for it to stay. He adjusted his stance, stretching his neck to soak in every moment of fortune, sharp metal cutting deep into his flesh...

The speck finally drifted past and onto the wall on the other side. He resisted with all his strength but finally collapsed into maniacal laughter, splashing blood against the stone and all over his face before screeching in horrific agony. The light disappeared and he hung, motionless.